The Beauty Bride (The Jewels of Kinfairlie) (40 page)

“I
am from Scotland.” Madeline dismounted and cast the reins over the destrier’s
head as she strode to the other man. “You must be one of my husband’s friends,”
she said. “He has been beset in the village at Caerwyn, and I fear he has been
captured. We must aid him!”

Instead
of making haste down to the village, the other man frowned. “I feared their
scheme was as much. I thought to waylay him on his ride homeward.” At
Madeline’s confusion, he gestured to the road behind them. “This is the best
passage through the hills, and Rhys oft uses it.”

“We
came by ship,” Madeline said and the man nodded, though he was clearly not
reassured.

“Ah,
forgive my manners!” he said suddenly and forced a smile. “I am Cradoc ap
Gwilym. I am sheriff of Caerwyn.”

“But
you are Welsh. I thought only the English could hold offices in Wales.”

Cradoc
smiled. “And so they could, until Dafydd ap Dafydd chose to make the best of
what would be, and so they were, until Rhys FitzHenry argued for a place for
me. I owe him much. You call Rhys husband. There are those who will lose a
wager when that man takes a wife.”

Madeline
almost smiled. “Nonetheless, he has taken one. I am Lady Madeline, born of
Kinfairlie and now Lady of Caerwyn.” As she claimed her title through Rhys for
the first time, she felt her chin rise with a measure of his pride.

Cradoc
smiled and bowed. “May God in his grace grant you many sons and many years of
happiness.”

Madeline
understood that this must be his customary blessing for married couples, but
still she sobered. “God can do no such thing if Rhys is killed by his
assailants. Who are they?”

“They
came from Harlech just days past and evidently came to await Rhys’ return. They
have hidden themselves and those bold enough to protest their presence have
disappeared.”

“But
surely they would have arrested the sheriff?”

Cradoc
grinned. “They would have had to catch me first.” He gestured further down the
road. “I invite you to accompany me, my lady. Now that we know their intent,
perhaps we can reason how better to foil their scheme.”

Madeline
whistled to the dog, cautious about proceeding to some more private place with
a man she did not know.

Cradoc
surveyed her so thoughtfully that she wondered whether he guessed the root of
her hesitation. “There are others hidden over the crest of the hill, already. I
halted them on this road this very morning. You may know them for they, too,
came from the north.”

“Who?”
Madeline demanded, even as her heart began to pound in anticipation.

“Madeline?”
Vivienne cried and Madeline spun to find her siblings racing toward her. They
surrounded her with noisy enthusiasm and Madeline smiled to see them all again.

“Are
you hale enough?” Alexander asked.

“Were
you injured?” Vivienne asked.

“Darg!”
Elizabeth cried. “Darg is on your shoulder!”

Alexander
caught her close and spun her around. Vivienne kissed her cheeks and hugged her
tightly. Madeline picked up Elizabeth in her turn.

“Tell
me that Kerr had no chance to hurt you,” Alexander insisted, his gaze intent.

Madeline
smiled and kissed his cheek. “I was safe all along,” she said with surety. “I
was with Rhys.”

Rosamunde
forced her way into the tight circle of siblings. There was a suspicious shine
in her eyes and her embrace was uncommonly forceful. “Did I not tell you as
much?” she whispered into Madeline’s hair.

“I
told you the lass was as strong as good Toledo steel,” Padraig said roughly.
This faithful cohort of Rosamunde’s winked at Madeline, the way he shifted his
weight telling her that even he had been fearful of her fate.

Then
her family stepped back, so that Madeline could see the last member of their
company. James was taller and slightly broader than he had been, his smile was
more ready and his tan was darker. Madeline waited for her body to respond to
his presence, but she had felt more relief in encountering Rhys’ friend Cradoc
than in her betrothed.

“Well
met, Madeline,” James said, then bent low over her hand. He kissed her knuckles
and Madeline felt nothing at all. Not a shiver was awakened by his touch and no
heat awakened in her belly. It was all too easy to recall Rhys’ suggestion that
James had never kissed her as Rhys had done.

No
less to find it true.

It
was shock that slowed her response, to be sure.

Madeline
deliberately closed her fingers over James’ hand and forced a smile to her
lips. “It is good to see you, James.”

He
laughed. “Only good to see me? I think it wondrous to be in the presence of
your beauty yet again. You are as lustrous as I recall, my Madeline, as
luminous as the moon.” He made to strum his lute, glancing across the company
to ensure that all watched him, then grimaced when his fingers coaxed forth no
sound.

Vivienne
laughed. “Rosamunde has yet to return the strings!”

James
sneered. “Any soul is a heathen, clearly, who cannot appreciate a fine tune.”

“James
had more interest in his music than your safety,” Alexander said grimly.
Madeline watched her siblings turn against her betrothed, their opinion of the
man more than clear.

“Would
it not have been fitting for me to greet Madeline with a love song, composed
only for her?” James demanded, taking affront at their manner. Madeline noted
that their reserve did not melt. “An ode to Madeline’s spectacular beauty would
have been a fine greeting, but I have no such offering to make, thanks to your
interference.”

Madeline
was beginning to find his references to her beauty annoying. “What is of import
in this moment is how we shall aid Rhys,” she said firmly, then told the others
that Rhys had been captured.

“These
are sorry tidings,” Rosamunde said, then turned to Cradoc. “You feared that
something dire was afoot.”

“They
came from Harlech. Robert Herbert, the lord there, has long tried to prove
himself the heir of Owain Glyn Dwr, if not by blood than by deed. He hungers
after all of the fortresses held by Owain, including Caerwyn.”

Rosamunde
frowned. “But how could he have known when to expect Rhys’ return?”

“A
runner came days passed, bringing a missive from Lady Adele’s sister,” Cradoc
said. “She is an abbess near York.”

“Miriam!”
Madeline said and the sheriff nodded. “We were wed at her abbey, over her
protest.”

“But
who is Lady Adele?” Vivienne asked.

“She
must be Rhys’ mother, the mistress of his father,” Madeline said.

Cradoc
nodded. “There are only the two women left at Caerwyn, Henry’s wife and his
mistress. One of them must have sent word, perhaps even inadvertently, to
Robert.”

“They
may all be imprisoned,” Rosamunde mused and the group looked as one at the
crest of the road. They could not see Caerwyn but Madeline felt as if a shadow
had slipped over her.

“Surely
no one will injure Rhys?” she said.

“There
is no heir to Caerwyn after him,” Cradoc said.

Madeline
barely kept her hand from stealing over her flat belly. Could she carry Rhys’
son already?

Would
Rhys be pleased if she did?

Madeline
dared not think of that. She turned to her aunt, needing to know the truth.
“Rosamunde, I would ask you to recall my birth, if you could. Rhys said
something most strange to me, and perhaps you can recall whether it is true.”

“What
is that?”

“He
thought me to be the child of his cousin Madeline...”

“The
daughter of Rhys’ uncle, Dafydd ap Dafydd, who wed Edmund Arundel and went to
Northumberland,” Cradoc cried. At Madeline’s nod, he became more animated. “Any
surviving child of that union could challenge Rhys’ suzerainty of Caerwyn, for
Dafydd was the last lord and his other children have all died.”

“Madeline
Arundel died in childbirth with her first and only child,” Madeline said and
Cradoc crossed himself with some sadness.

“She
must have been Catherine’s first choice to be your godmother,” Rosamunde said
to Madeline. “I knew that I was your mother’s second choice, for her dearest
friend had recently died, though I did not know more of that friend.”

Madeline
nodded, for this made sense. Rosamunde never asked for more detail on any
matter than she was granted, perhaps because she herself tended to confess to
others only what they needed to know. “Madeline’s husband, Edward, died five
years later, in 1403. Rhys said that my mother took Madeline’s child back to
Kinfairlie, for the child had been orphaned.”

“And
he thought you might be that child.” Rosamunde guessed, then shook her head.
“It seems unlikely. I attended your christening, after all, and you were only
days old.”

“But
you must recall Ellyn,” Alexander said with sudden urgency. His eyes were
bright.

Madeline
turned to him, a ghost stirring in her memory. Ellyn. The utterance of that
name made her vaguely recall another child, a quiet, small child.

Rosamunde
shook a finger at him, evidently remembering the matter as well. “That tiny
child! She was so sickly, and of an age with Madeline. I teased Catherine that
she had brought home a changeling, not a mortal child, and that the fairies
would steal her back one night.” She shook her head. “I had forgotten all about
poor little Ellyn.”

Alexander
grinned. “And she would never play with us, remember?” He nudged Madeline. “I
probably granted her more attention than any other soul at Kinfairlie, so
convinced was I that she should join our games. You were not even five summers
of age, Madeline, and you, Vivienne were younger still. Malcolm was a babe.”

“I
do not recall her,” Vivienne said with a shrug.

“I
think that I do...” Madeline admitted.

“You
preferred to play with Vivienne,” Alexander reminded Madeline, then sobered.
“It was only later that I understood that Ellyn did not play because she was
ill.”

“She
died very shortly after her arrival at Kinfairlie,” Rosamunde said. “Hers was a
short sad life.”

Alexander
nodded. “I remember Madeline Arundel, as well, for she and mother rounded at
the same time and oft visited with each other.” He shook his head, seeming
snared by some fond memory. “She was a kind woman. She always brought candied
angelica because I loved it so and no one at Kinfairlie knew how to make it.
She would feign surprise when I found it amongst her embroidery. I remember how
Maman
wept when she died.”

“She
was a kind woman,” Cradoc affirmed. “I remember her well. And such a laugh! She
lightened hearts wheresoever she went.”

“I
think
Maman
was still round with
you when we had word of Madeline Arundel’s death.” Alexander said. “I recall
Papa arguing with our castellan about telling
Maman
some dire news so close to her time. He insisted
that she must know, while the castellan said it would only do her injury.” He
tapped a finger on Madeline’s shoulder. “You must have been named in memory of
Maman
’s friend.”

Madeline
liked the notion well, whether it was true or not. “But Ellyn died?”

Alexander
nodded, his manner sad. “There is a stone in the churchyard at Kinfairlie for
her, a small one with a cherub upon it.
Maman
used to pray there in memory of her friend and
little Ellyn, as well.”

Cradoc
shook his head. “Ah, I recall Madeline and Edwards’ nuptial feast. You never
saw a happier pair. They were so smitten each with the other, so glad to face
life together. It is sorry indeed that they had so few years together.”

“Perhaps
they savored each moment fully,” Madeline suggested softly and the others
nodded at that prospect.

The
company stood in silence for a moment, grieving for the lost couple and their
child. Madeline imagined that the wind even took a mournful tone. When next she
was at Kinfairlie, Madeline resolved she would visit the stone laid in memory
of Ellyn, the tiny quiet child she had almost forgotten, and she would say a
prayer for all of them.

* * *

Rhys’
captors were rough, but they did not do him much injury. He suspected that he
was wanted alive, for some purpose, though he could not guess what it was.

A
good twenty mercenaries surrounded him and marched him through Caerwyn’s gates,
which he supposed was a compliment to his fighting abilities. He was not
surprised that he was forced down the ladder to Caerwyn’s dark dungeon, nor was
he surprised that he was shoved into its one cold chamber. He was not surprised
when the oaken door was slammed behind him, and the cell plunged into darkness
as the key was turned in the lock.

He
was surprised when a voice cleared behind him.

Rhys
jumped and pivoted, his hand falling to his empty scabbard and closing upon no
weapon at all.