The Captive Heart (28 page)

Alix felt tears pricking at her eyelids. She nodded. “Aye, my Fiona. You may call me Mama if that is all right with your da.” She looked to him.

He nodded, smiling.

“A Christmas wedding!” Fenella said. “We’ll have to start planning right away, for tomorrow is the first of December. We must send to Drumcairn to your uncle. He will be so pleased. And my lady must have a new gown in which to be married.”

Afterwards as they sat in the kitchens Iver said to Fenella, “Well, you escaped the wrath you deserved. I knew he was bedding her, but I didn’t think he’d marry again.”

“I told you he would,” Fenella said. “It isn’t natural for a man to live without a wife. Just because the Ramsay was the wrong woman didn’t mean the right one wasn’t out there, Iver. The lady is perfect for him. She’ll never betray him like the other did.”

The priest was called for, and he came from the laird’s village of Dunglais, which was nearby. His name was Father Donald, and he was a man in his middle years. Learning that the laird wanted to wed Alix, the priest posed several questions. “You are both free to wed, my children?” he asked them.

“I am widowed,” Alix responded. “My late husband is dead, God assoil him.”

“And I am free, as my first wife’s bones were found out on the moor,” the laird said quietly.

“You both wish to have children?” Father Donald asked Alix, his mild brown eyes searching her lovely face. He had been at Dunglais for twelve years and had known the beauteous but high-strung Robena Ramsay.

“Aye!” Alix said without hesitation, causing the priest to smile.

“And you, my lord?”

“Aye,” the laird said, looking at the object of his desire. “Son or daughter, it matters not to me. But our home should be filled with the laughter of children, and Fiona should have siblings. Family is most important to me.”

“There is one thing, Good Father,” Alix said. “My late husband’s father wanted to wed me, and sent to York for a dispensation. I thought this desire unnatural and against church teachings. I fled his home. I am told he obtained that dispensation.”

The priest looked troubled. Then he said, “That is England. This is Scotland. No dispensation can make clean that which is unclean, my daughter. I believe Bishop Kennedy at St. Andrew’s would agree with me. I will marry you. You have but to name the day,” the priest told them. “I am pleased, my lord, that you have decided to take this step. Your uncle at Drumcairn has been most worried. Have you sent to him yet?”

“We but awaited your blessing, Good Father,” the laird said.

Father Donald chuckled. “No matter what I might have said, my lord, you would have found a way to make your union with this young woman a legal one. I shall draw up the marriage contract for you in the next few days.”

“I can bring my husband a dower,” Alix said proudly. “My father gave me a small bit of gold and silver before he died. He said it was for me alone. I will not come to my husband in naught but a chemise, Father Donald.”

The priest nodded. “Bring me your portion then, my daughter, and when the contracts are signed it will be turned over to your husband,” he told her.

Robert Ferguson, upon receiving word that his nephew was to remarry, came with all haste from Drumcairn. Although he had wanted Malcolm Scott to wed again, he was a bit disappointed that his nephew had not chosen one of his candidates. But when he learned of Alix’s dower, he decided the laird had not made a bad bargain. True, Alix was English, but her parents were French, and Scotland was allied with the French. True, she had no relations who might be of use to the Scotts, or who would fight beside them, but she had a queen, albeit an English queen, for a godmother, and Scotland’s queen had become her friend. And she was certainly pretty. And biddable without being boring. And both his nephew and little Fiona obviously adored her. It would be a good marriage, and he wagered silently to himself that Dunglais would have a male heir within the year.

The marriage contract between Alix and Malcolm Scott was drawn up. The bride brought her dower portion to the priest.

“Is this all of it, my daughter?” Father Donald asked as he took the small chamois bag. He would count it out when he was alone and add the amount to the contract.

“Nay,” Alix told him honestly. “My father always said a woman should have a bit of her own money put aside.” Then she drew two full-weight silver coins from her pocket and gave them to him. “A donation for the church, Good Priest.”

“Your sire was a wise man,” Father Donald said with a smile as he pocketed the coins she had given him.

“I have kept only a wee portion for myself,” Alix said. “One day I will use it for whichever of my children needs it most.”

“I can see you are nothing like the other,” the priest said. “And you love him.”

“Aye, I love him,” Alix answered him simply.

“I understand you read,” Father Donald said. “Since, having no family, you must act for yourself, you may read the contract I have drawn between you and the laird.”

“There is no need,” Alix told him. “I have faith in you, and know you have done what is right, Father.”

The priest nodded. Her trust pleased him. She might be intelligent, which was not exactly an asset for a woman, but she had obviously been raised to respect the church. “When do you wish the contract to be signed and the blessing to be given, my daughter?”

“The laird and I have discussed it,” Alix said. “Fiona’s birthday is on the fifth day of this month. My lord and I will marry on the sixth, the feast of St. Nicholas. His uncle of Drumcairn and his uncle’s wife have already been summoned.”

It was but two days away, but the priest could see no reason for a delay. He knew that married or no the laird would spend the long winter night in his bed with Alix, getting a child on her. Better the child be born legitimate, especially if God granted the pair a son and heir. “So be it, my daughter,” he answered her.

“The signing will be in the hall with the blessing in the keep’s small chapel,” Alix continued. “This will be no grand affair. In the summer, if there are no raids, we will invite our neighbors to come and celebrate with us.”

“Perhaps at the baptism of your first child?” the priest suggested.

Alix laughed. “Aye! That would be a fine occasion for it,” she agreed.

When she had gone, the priest emptied the chamois bag she had given him onto the wooden table in his cottage. He was surprised by what he saw. There were four gold coins and ten of silver. All were full weight. There was not even the hint of clipping. It was the dower worthy of a noble’s daughter. He knew her father had been physician to royalty. He had obviously been well liked by his masters and careful in his personal spending. And the bride had been scrupulous in holding back something of her small wealth for herself. He was not certain he fully approved, yet his instincts told him Alix would be a good wife to Malcolm Scott and a good mother to his wee lass.

Alix had returned to the hall to find that Fenella had finished the gown they had been fashioning together for the wedding day. Of royal-blue silk brocade it had a high waist and long tight sleeves with light, almost-white fur cuffs. The hem was fur-trimmed as well, and the low-cut neckline had a fur collar edging it.

“It’s beautiful,” Alix told Fenella. “Thank you for finishing it for me.”

Fenella smiled. “There wasn’t a great deal left to do, and with Fiona’s day tomorrow and the Drumcairns arriving I thought it should be done.”

“I brought my dower to the priest,” Alix told her.

Fenella nodded. “Then it’s just about done. I am happy for you, my lady.”

Alix immediately noticed the change in Fenella’s attitude, and said, “We will remain friends, won’t we, Fenella?”

“Aye, my lady!” Fenella smiled, broadly pleased by the question. “I’m happy to serve the laird’s wife. At least
this
wife.”

There was suddenly a great stir at the other end of the hall as the Fergusons of Drumcairn arrived. Big and bluff, Robert Ferguson greeted his nephew jovially. “Well, praise God and his Blessed Mother, Colm! And I like the lass, although I could have gotten you a virgin with a large dower. Dunglais could have used a lass with a big dower. Still in all, she’s young and will hopefully prove a good breeder.” He clapped the laird upon the back, grinning.

“Is a dower of four gold coins and ten of silver, all full weight, enough of a dower for Dunglais, Uncle?” the laird asked Robert Ferguson.

“God’s foot, lad! That kind of a dower is more than respectable. Who would have guessed that pretty little Englander would have all that sewn in her skirts.” And he chuckled. “A clever wench, Colm. A very clever wench indeed.” He turned to his wife. “What think you, Maggie?”

Robert Ferguson’s wife, a pretty woman with warm amber eyes and chestnut-colored hair, grinned up at her mate. “I think that Colm did not need you after all, Husband. It seems he was more than capable of finding a wife without you. And a young woman of wealth too. But where is she? I wish to meet her.”

At this point Alix had managed to get down the hall and greeted the Ferguson of Drumcairn with a pretty curtsy. “Welcome back to Dunglais, my lord,” she said, and then she turned to Maggie Ferguson. “I am Alix Givet, madame, and as the laird’s betrothed wife I welcome you too.” She kissed the other woman upon both of her cheeks.

“Pretty and mannerly,” Maggie Ferguson said with a smile. “Aye, Nephew, you have indeed done well in your choice of a wife.”

The next day was the fifth day of December, and they celebrated Fiona’s birthday. Alix gave her a little pearl ring her mother had given her as a child. It was too small for her now, but it fit Fiona perfectly. The little girl was delighted, waving the hand with the ring about so all could see it. “My first piece of real jewelry!” Fiona crowed. Then she greedily undid the cloth hiding her father’s gift and squealed, delighted. Inside was a little gilded leather girdle and a filigreed pomander that could be hung from it. “Oh, Da! Thank you! It will be perfect with my new gown.”

“A new gown?” The laird feigned surprise. “And when am I to see this new gown, Daughter? It would seem to me as you grow up you are becoming more of an expense,” he teased her. “You will need a wealthy husband, I fear.”

“Oh, Da! You knew I was to have a new gown for the wedding,” Fiona said.

“The wedding?” He continued to beleaguer her. “Is it soon?”

“It’s tomorrow, Da!” Fiona giggled. “Don’t you remember?”

“I don’t think I have anything to wear,” the laird responded, pulling a long face. “It would seem everyone has been too busy sewing for my ladies.”

“Stop your teasing, my lord,” Fenella cautioned, shaking her head. “You’ll upset the lass. You know how she can be sometimes.”

An odd look came over Malcolm Scott’s face. Then he said, “Aye.”

“Cook has baked an apple tart to celebrate our daughter’s birthday,” Alix announced, breaking the brief tension.

“It’s my favorite!” Fiona said excitedly, and she danced about the hall.

The laird reached out and took Alix’s hand in his, his eyes meeting hers. “Thank you,” he said. “You are a better mother to Fiona than the cursed wench who birthed her.”

“I love her, and I can see she is high-strung, Colm. Most little girls her age are. I will teach her restraint, but she is just seven today. Little girls are quite often sensitive. She isn’t Robena, my lord. I will lead her by example.”

“She is right, you know,” Maggie Ferguson said. “As the mother of daughters, I could tell you tales.” She chuckled.

“You have been very good for her,” the laird admitted, looking into Alix’s eyes and smiling. Then, “How is it you understand me so well?” he wanted to know. “I sometimes think you know me better, lambkin, than I know myself.”

Alix laughed. “Will you be offended if I tell you that you are not a very complex man? You are honest and straightforward. I quite like it, my dear lord. The world in which I was raised was filled with men intriguing and plotting. Each word they spoke had to be considered carefully. The truth was a rare commodity. I often wonder if King Henry had been sound of mind and a strong man what his rule would have been. I would certainly not be here at Dunglais had it been.”

“Do you miss that world?” he asked her. He knew the answer, of course, but he needed to hear her say it again. Now that she was to be his wife, he found that he needed reassurance that she truly loved him. It had never been this way with Robena.

Alix stood before him and, reaching up, stroked his jaw as she gazed into his eyes. “I would rather be with you and here at Dunglais than anywhere else. I love you, Colm Scott, my dear, good lord.” Then her voice dropped so only he might hear her. “You have become my life. I want no man but you. I will never leave you, my darling. Do not be afraid, Colm. Our marriage is meant to be, and it will be good.” Standing on her tiptoes Alix kissed him sweetly and gently.

The laird’s voice was equally low as he spoke to her. “When Robena betrayed me, only my pride was hurt. As I saw her standing there in my half brother’s arms I knew I had never had any real love for her. She had nothing of my heart. But you, my lambkin, you have captured my heart. You hold it captive and you always will.” He kissed her back, and his kiss was one of deep longing.

“I belong to you, my lord,” Alix told him softly.

“And I belong to you, my love,” the laird replied.

When she had seen the way the situation was going, Fenella had eased away from the pair, Fiona in her care. The guests moved away too. But, seeing the servants bringing in the meal, Fenella called out, “My lords, my ladies. Come to table. Fiona’s feast is now set, and it smells delicious. Look, child, prawns!”

The laird and Alix turned from each other. Hand in hand they came to the high board, Malcolm Scott picking up his daughter and bringing her to the place of honor, where she held court the rest of the evening until she was finally carried to bed by her father and tucked in by Alix. Then they returned to the hall to be with their guests. The laird’s piper played for them, and the old bard who made his home at Dunglais entertained them with tales, some spoken, some half sung.