The Beauty Bride (The Jewels of Kinfairlie) (8 page)

His
reticence made Madeline believe that he had little reason for this foolery - or
that his reason was not one flattering to himself. “You merely thought it a
jest,” she accused. “But I would have you pledge to me, brother mine, that you
will not so shame our sisters as you have me.”

“I
meant well, Madeline. You have to know that!”

“Your
intent is of less import than your deeds. You always were too besotted with
your own ideas, however wild they were.” Madeline spoke as sternly as their
father oft had. “All the world is not so readily charmed by you and your
schemes as
Maman
and Papa were. Take
greater care with our sisters’ lives than you have with mine.”

Alexander’s
mouth set into the relentless line that Madeline knew all too well. “You cannot
command me to do your will, not when I am Laird of Kinfairlie.”

“Swear
it!” Madeline cried, her vigor so uncharacteristic that her siblings looked at
her in alarm. “I will not suffer you to repeat this foolery! You have coin
aplenty to pay any debt as a result of this day’s folly. Swear it, Alexander.”

Alexander
looked disinclined to do as much, and her sisters’ grips tightened on
Madeline’s hand.

“I
would suggest you do so as the lady suggests,” Rhys said from unexpected
proximity. “Your sister speaks with greater sense than you have shown thus
far.”

“I
thought myself among kin,” Alexander complained as he scowled at Rhys. “You
should have declared your presence afore this!”

“And
you should look about yourself afore you speak.” Rhys captured Madeline’s hand
in his once again, easing Annelise aside. “A man must keep his wits about him
better than you have done this night if he means to survive as lord of a
holding. He must also guard his treasures more closely than you have guarded
the Jewel of Kinfairlie. We will be kin soon enough, Laird of Kinfairlie.”

Alexander
flushed scarlet at this, obviously discerning some truth in Rhys’ words.
Madeline was astonished that her new betrothed was the one to champion her
demand. Her sisters regarded Rhys with admiration.

Rhys
drew Madeline closer to his side, as if they spoke as one. “Grant my lady the
pledge she requests of you and grant it to her immediately.”

His
lady. That treacherous shiver began deep within Madeline’s belly. She was
stirred by Rhys’ touch and so surprised by his endorsement that she could not
summon a word to her lips.

Alexander
regarded the pair of them sullenly. “I swear it, Madeline. I shall not auction
our sisters.”

And
there, the pledge she had requested was hers as readily as that. Madeline had
the uncommon sense that Rhys would ensure the promise was kept. She was
relieved, yet felt a debt to Rhys that she would have preferred not to owe.

“Does
that suit you well enough?” Rhys demanded of Madeline.

“It
does.”

“Then
what was begun poorly has ended well.” Rhys tucked Madeline’s hand into his
elbow. “Come, my lady. Our betrothal feast awaits.”

Madeline
turned at his bidding, as if she would indeed be a dutiful wife to this
renegade. She dared not let him see the defiance that roiled within her. She
matched her step to his and even managed to grant him a small smile. Though she
was glad of Rhys’ intercession, she was wary of his reasons for doing so.

Her
sisters thanked him prettily for his intervention, their estimation of his
character obviously improving by the moment. Madeline did not doubt that Rhys
cultivated their approval deliberately - and she did not trust that he did so.

Any
man could be charming for one evening.

Any
man of dark repute might find that one evening of such charm served him well,
if it gained him the bride he desired for all eternity.

It
was Madeline who would have to live with the result.

Rhys
seemed so determined to eliminate her misgivings - and to think well of her -
that he roused her suspicions. That he was a traitor to the crown made Madeline
doubly determined to not pledge herself forevermore to an utter stranger. But
no matter, by the morning, Madeline would be gone from Ravensmuir, leaving no
trace of her destination behind.

That
would be simple to do, for she as yet had no idea where she would go.

* * *

Rhys
could fairly smell the defiance of his intended. In truth, he could not blame
her for being reluctant to wed under such strange circumstance, no less to a
man she did not know.

No
less to a man reputed to be a villain.

But
wed they would be, and wed they would be on the morrow. Rhys would suffer no further
delay in his claiming of Caerwyn.

The
sole solution was to reassure the lady, in what little time remained between
this meal and the exchange of nuptial vows. He had begun with reassuring her
sisters, and so he would continue. Indeed, their merry presence awakened a
yearning in Rhys, a memory of his own lost sisters and the way they had
tormented their only and much younger brother. He felt an uncommon tenderness
in the midst of these sisters, for their bickering was evocative of his own
half-forgotten past.

The
company were seated at the high board under the direction of Tynan’s castellan.
Tynan claimed the central seat, with Rosamunde upon his left and a young boy
upon his right. The boy shared the dark hair of Madeline and Alexander, though
his eyes were a vivid green, so Rhys guessed him to be another sibling. Further
to Tynan’s right was Alexander, then two of the younger sisters.

Rhys
was seated to the left of Rosamunde, Madeline to his left and her sister
Vivienne to her left. The sister, Elizabeth, who had seen the fairy had the end
place at the table and seemed despondent that no one had believed her earlier.
She cast covert glances down the table, often in strange directions, and Rhys
wondered what she saw.

In
the first table facing the high table were seated various bishops and dukes and
lords in their finery, their wives and consorts at their sides. They were all
seated roughly by rank, though the ale had already flowed with sufficient vigor
that none were in the mood to take offense at any inevitable slight.

Rhys
saw the women settled and their cups filled, then winked at the dejected
Elizabeth. Her color rose and she toyed with her cup, even as she cast him a
glare.

“Do
not mock me,” she said.

“I
would not dream of doing as much. You must have a fearsome power to be able to
see the fey so clearly.”

“Do
you think so?”

“Yours
is a rare gift.”

The
girl brightened at Rhys’ nod, and Rhys felt Madeline stiffen beside him. He had
a thought then that the lady’s resistance could be softened through her
siblings.

“It
is pulling your ear and making fearsome faces,” Elizabeth confided.

“Then
it is a mercy that I cannot see it, much less feel the pain.”

Elizabeth
laughed. “Why do you believe in fairies?”

“Because
they exist, of course.”

“But
how can you know as much, if you cannot see them?”

“My
mother and her kin are reputed to be descended from a water fairy, who wed a
mortal man, my own forebear.” Rhys watched the girl’s eyes round and felt
Vivienne turn to listen to his words. “Do you know the tale of the Gwraggedd
Annwn?”

Both
girls shook their heads, while Madeline took a studied interest in the arrival
of the venison. Rhys did not doubt that she listened to him, as well, and he
was glad to have chosen this tale to recount.

In
fact, it described his own response to the lady beside him perfectly, and he
hoped that she would discern the morsel of truth in his words. He was aware of
her presence, of the spill of her kirtle so close to his leg, of the soft scent
of her flesh, of her thigh beside his own. Her hand rested on the board, soft
and finely wrought, and though he yearned to capture it within his own, he
feared to frighten her.

A
tale might soften her resistance to him.

He
cleared his throat and began. “There are many lakes in Wales, where I was born,
and most of them have a mysterious air. It is said that there are fairies
living beneath the surface, in splendid palaces that mortal men can only
glimpse once in a long while. It is said that their daughters are beauteous
beyond belief, and immortal, and wise. And it is told that one such lake maiden
liked to sit on a certain rock on the shore, and comb her hair in the
sunlight.”

“I
would wager that a mortal man spied her there,” Vivienne said, her eyes
glowing.

“Indeed,
one such man did,” Rhys agreed. “And as you might anticipate, he was smitten at
the sight of this rare beauty. Some say that she was singing and that her voice
was such a marvel that he was enchanted. Others recount that it was her beauty
alone that snared him. I heard that she had hair as dark as a raven’s wing, and
eyes that flashed like sapphires. I have heard that he had only to see her the
once to lose his heart completely.”

Madeline
cast him a glance at this description, which so nearly matched her own, and
Rhys held her gaze as he continued. “She was a beauty beyond beauties, that
much is for certain, and her character was no less attractive than her face.
And so, the mortal man was smitten, and in the hope of winning her attention,
he offered to share his bread with her.”

Rhys
glanced down at the table, knowing Madeline’s gaze would follow his own, and
considered the trencher cut of bread that they were to share. Madeline’s cheeks
were stained with sudden color and she looked across the hall.

“And
what happened?” Elizabeth demanded.

“The
fairy maiden said that his bread was too hard. She may have laughed at his
dismay, then she disappeared beneath the water, scarcely leaving a ripple on
its surface.”

“Oh.”
Elizabeth was clearly disappointed, thinking the tale finished, but Vivienne
spoke up.

“He
probably did not give up easily.”

“Indeed
he did not, for love is a fearsome power. He knew that he had to win this
maiden’s favor, and he did not care how difficult the task might prove to be.
No man of merit surrenders readily to the challenge of his lady’s desire.”

A
page placed meat upon the trencher and Rhys nudged the choice morsels toward
Madeline. She glanced down, took nothing, and looked away again, her back
straight.

Rhys
was not deterred.

“The
man returned home and sought his mother’s counsel, and that woman gave him
bread the following morning which had not been baked. He went back to the same
place, and was thrilled to find the lake maiden there again. He offered to
share this bread, but she laughed and said it was too soft for her. With that,
she disappeared into the lake once more.”

“And
the third day?” Elizabeth prompted.

“On
the third day, he brought bread that was half-baked, and the fairy maiden liked
it very well. Indeed, I suspect that she liked that he labored so determinedly
to win her favor.” Vivienne laughed at this, though Madeline drew slightly away
from Rhys. Did she find herself susceptible to his meager charm, or was she
repulsed by him? He could not guess, but continued on. “No sooner had she eaten
of the bread, though, than she disappeared again into the lake. The man was
disappointed by this, for he thought the fairy maiden spurned him.”

The
girls were rapt, and even Madeline glanced over her shoulder at Rhys. “Did he
abandon his quest, then?” she asked and Rhys let himself smile.

“Did
I not mention that love had a hold upon him? No sooner had he begun to fret
than three resplendent figures rose from depths of the lake. They walked across
its surface to him, their garb and jewels glittering in the sunlight. There
were two maidens, each as beautiful as the other, both so similar as to have
been the same woman in two places. They stood on either side of an older
gentleman in fine garb, who informed the mortal man that he was the king of the
fairies beneath the lake. The king offered one of his daughters in marriage to
the mortal man, if that man could identify which daughter had accepted his
bread.”

Rhys
pursed his lips. “This was no easy task. The man looked between them and feared
that he would fail, for he could discern no difference between the sisters. And
just when he thought all to be lost, the one on the right slid her foot
slightly forward. For you see, the fairy maiden had fallen in love with the
mortal man, and she did not desire to lose him.”

He
captured Madeline’s hand and let his thumb slide over her skin. She shivered
and her eyes turned a more fervid blue, though she did not pull her hand from
his grasp. “He recognized the slipper of his lady love immediately, and was
overjoyed that she too was willing to make this match. Thus he spoke out and
chose his bride correctly.”

“And
so they were wed,” Vivienne prompted.

“And
so they were wed, though the fairy king granted an injunction. If the mortal
man struck his fairy wife three times, then he would lose her forever, for she
would be compelled to return to her father’s kingdom beneath the lake.”