The Frost Maiden's Kiss (17 page)

Erik would have liked to have argued the merit of his wife’s brother, but found he could not.

“Oh, the laird is gracious enough,” Ruari muttered, needing little encouragement to continue one of his tirades. “But what has he done to amass such wealth as could pay for this? He has sold his own soul, upon that you can rely, committed all manner of evil, and his taint has only made Ravensmuir more foul than ever it was.” He spun to face Erik as he had a thought. “Perhaps it is the Fae music that enchanted him. Perhaps the sound of it beguiled the laird and hardened his heart so that he could do the deeds he did.”

“Perhaps we should tend the horses, if our party means to depart this morn.”

Ruari granted Erik a dark look, then made a sound of disgust as he began to groom the palfreys. “See the Fae mischief? Knots in manes and tails, and a mess made of the trap.” It was true. The manes and tails of the horses were in as tangled a state as the trap, and Erik knew it had not been left that way the night before.

Ruari wagged a finger at him. “The Fae were displeased that we did not come to dance, that much is certain.” He made his way to the destriers, his scowl deepening. “And look at the glisten on the hides of these two. They have had a run in the night, unless I miss my guess, a wild hunt with the Fae.”

“The horses were here all the night long, Ruari.”

“So you think, but the Fae are cursed deceptive. I say these destriers have run and that they have run far.”

The beasts did seem warm from exertion and the flesh of his stallion quivered when Erik put a hand upon the beast’s rump. There was a glint in the horse’s eye and his ebony mane was filled with knots that had not been there the night before.

Erik would have liked to have called Ruari’s words nonsense, but once he looked upon the horses he could not.

Did it not figure that the Fae, widely reputed to adore fine horses, should have chosen these two black destriers as their mounts?

Were the steeds of Ravensmuir’s line so fine because of the Fae? A shiver slipped down Erik’s spine at that. He had to get his family away from this holding with all speed.

“A fine thing it is that Kinfairlie is not far,” Ruari said. “For if you had a long journey this day, it would be cruel to so push the steeds.”

“A fine thing indeed,” Erik replied, tugging on his tabard and his boots. “If you might see the horses saddled and the cart prepared, Ruari, I shall rouse my lady wife. I would be at Kinfairlie before midmorning.”

“Aye, lad, that may be the wisest decision that ever I have heard you make.”

* * *

With one glance out the window of the solar, Catriona knew the weather would be even less pleasant than the day before. The sea was still dark and churning, as dark as a tarnished silver buckle, and the clouds in the sky were of a hue to match. Though it had rained mightily in the night and there was standing water on the ground, the skies appeared to have more to loose. The wind tore through the windows of the new keep, chilling the stone and making it difficult to kindle a fire on the hearth.

She wondered if the elements were always thus at Ravensmuir.

Or was the weather a portent of doom?

Certainly, the babe in her belly had awakened with a vengeance. Between its motion and her nightmare, she had slept precious little.

Unexpectedly, it had been curiosity about the laird himself that had occupied her thoughts as she lay awake. Catriona found herself wondering what he did in those ruins, why he entered them, and how often.

She wondered if he would confide her.

She wondered if she dared to ask.

Catriona left the solar and her sleeping lady just after the dawn to collect embers from the hearth in the hall below. She could not help that note the absence of the laird in his own hall, though his companion was rolled in his cloak in one corner, snoring softly. The cask of wine that had been opened the night before appeared to be empty, which explained Rafael’s state well enough. She heard the laborers calling to each other in the bailey and smelled fires burning as the men roused themselves to work anew.

Laird Erik came into the hall with Ruari just as she was climbing the stairs. “Catriona, we shall leave with all speed for Kinfairlie, if you would tell my lady as much. I would reach there by mid-morning.”

Catriona recalled her lady’s state and wished she could ensure that Lady Vivienne slept longer. “But the children are sleeping so deeply, my lord.”

“They can sleep at Kinfairlie,” he said, slapping his gloves against his palm with an impatience to be gone. “The steeds are saddled already. Please bid my lady wife to make haste.”

What could she do? Catriona dared not break her pledge to her lady, but ducked her head and hastened up the stairs. Her footsteps faltered when she heard the voice of the Laird of Ravensmuir. She lingered out of sight, listening, hoping one laird could convince the other.

“Will you not remain another night?” the Laird of Ravensmuir asked, his tone gracious.

“I think not.” Laird Erik was formal to the point of being cold. “We are expected at Kinfairlie.”

“And they already know that you linger here, for they sent provisions for your comfort.”

“All the same, I would continue with haste.”

“I throw myself at your mercy, Erik,” the Laird of Ravensmuir said, to Catriona’s surprise. “I have not seen my favorite sister these eight years. Might I not savor one more day of her company?”

Catriona bit her lip, glad beyond belief that the laird tried to keep his word to her, without betraying her trust.

“I did not know that you understood much of mercy,” Laird Erik replied. “And truly, I would not expect many to show you any.”

The silence from the hall was charged then, and Catriona feared the laird would reply with heat.

When the Laird of Ravensmuir spoke, there was a quietude to his voice. Catriona guessed that his green eyes glittered, as they did when he was concerned with a matter. “I suppose you will tell me that I am welcome at Kinfairlie, even though that is not quite true.”

“A man cannot expect his deeds to cast no shadow.”

“But surely a man can expect his own family to grant him an opportunity to repent.”

“If repentance is your desire, Malcolm, I suggest you send for a priest,” Laird Erik retorted. “Indeed, I cannot help but notice that there is no chapel at Ravensmuir, much less a priest. How long has it been since you confessed your sins?”

“Long enough, it is true, though it is out of kindness that I do not burden Father Malachy with such fearsome tales.”

Catriona heard Laird Erik slap his gloves on his palm again, a sound that communicated his impatience. “We will be gone, as soon as Vivienne and the children have broken their fast.”

“And no reciprocal invitation for me to visit Blackleith,” the Laird of Ravensmuir drawled. “Your manners surprise me, Erik.”

Again there was a charged silence and Catriona imagined the men glared at each other. Laird Erik would be stiff and angry, Laird Malcolm apparently amused, but intent.

“Tell Vivienne that I await her in the bailey,” Laird Erik said.

Catriona grimaced as he left the hall, slamming the portal behind himself. She jumped when the Laird of Ravensmuir appeared at the foot of the stairs, his gaze upon her again. He looked haggard on this morn, but then she knew he had not slept more than she. The stubble on his jaw made him appear dangerous, but his raised eyebrow told her of his concern for his sister. Catriona shrugged, uncertain of the lady’s state. The laird frowned and nodded once, his fingers drumming on the wall as he thought.

Catriona dared to slip down the stairs again to his side. “She must tell him,” she whispered. “It is the only possible course, though I thank you for not revealing me.”

The laird’s gaze swept over her face. “You did not sleep.”

Catriona touched her belly. “Once awakened, neither did the child.”

“What of your dream?” he murmured.

Catriona dropped her gaze. “It was naught. A mere nightmare.”

“And Ian?”

She forced a smile. “A ghost destined to haunt me,” she said, keeping her tone brisk.

He did not smile in return. “Then we have more in common again, Catriona, for I am haunted by ghosts as well.” She might have asked for more detail, but he continued with a frown and the opportunity was lost. “I shall try to change Erik’s thinking, but I fear it cannot be done,” he admitted. “If Vivienne would confide in him, that might be best.”

“I will try to convince her.”

The laird’s sudden smile made her blink, though it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I know, Catriona. My sister is fortunate in having you by her side.”

His words launched a tide of heat within her that was sufficient to make her dizzy. Catriona spun and hastened up the stairs, slowing her pace when he cleared his throat pointedly. She glanced back to see him shake a finger at her, feigning sternness at her speed, and even as her heart leapt, she smiled that he was consistent in his concern.

It was not all bad having a fierce mercenary argue the side of her unborn child.

* * *

It was a losing battle and Malcolm knew it well. He could not change the thinking of Erik without Vivienne admitting the truth to her husband. Catriona’s minute shake of her head when the family appeared in the hall made it clear that his sister was adamant.

He, of course, could not argue with Vivienne about her choice without revealing that Catriona had shared her secret. Although Catriona had not pledged him to silence, he did not wish to jeopardize her place in Vivienne’s household.

She might, after all, bear a daughter.

He might never know if she bore a son. Should he take a chance and ask for her hand before the party departed this morning? Catriona would think him mad, no doubt, as would all of his family, and that would only worsen if Catriona’s babe was a daughter. Would Malcolm’s family challenge his own will, if Catriona was his wife and her daughter his heir when he died?

Malcolm could not say, and he wished it were otherwise. A son would make matters most simple.

But how would he learn about Catriona’s child after she had left Ravensmuir?

Malcolm sat with his sister as she broke her fast and tried to convince her to remain another day in his abode first. He used the same argument that he had presented to Erik, reminding her how long it had been since they had been together. Vivienne laughed and immediately dismissed the notion, making it clear that she would cleave to her husband’s plan.

“I cannot vex him every day, Malcolm,” she confided. “Erik is indulgent beyond belief, but he has made his disapproval of you more than clear in recent years.” She placed her hand over Malcolm’s and squeezed his fingers even as she grimaced. “I wish you had not made such a choice.”

Malcolm knew his dissatisfaction showed. “So you all say, but not a one of you can tell me where else I would have found the wealth to administer an estate with a ruined keep and no tithes.”

“The horses!”

“They do not live upon air, Vivienne,” he countered with some impatience. “Do you know the cost of good fodder and hay? Of decent ostlers and well-made trap? We do not talk of a single steed, but more than forty.”

Vivienne waved away this objection. “A new accord between you and everyone else will take time, but I believe we made a good first step last evening.” She smiled with confidence. “Give it time, Malcolm. Perhaps come to Kinfairlie while we are there. You know that I will argue in your favor.”

“And why is that?” Malcolm asked, unhappy with the situation.

“Because I know the man you truly are. Necessity may have demanded you to make a choice others would not have made, but your essential nature has not changed.” Her smile was unrepentant. “Even if you do scowl most fiercely now.”

He had to ask. “And what of Catriona?”

“What of her?” Vivienne appeared to be surprised.

“What will become of her when she has her child?”

“She will be a mother, then, I suppose.” Vivienne sipped her cup of milk. “In truth, Malcolm, I am surprised she has remained at our hearth for so long. I thought she would return to some family or other by this point and bear the child amongst her own kin. I have offered to write to anyone for her, but she declines.”

“Perhaps she has no other family.”

Vivienne shrugged. “I cannot help when my assistance is not wanted.”

“Would you keep her as a servant along with her child?”

Vivienne frowned in her turn. “I am not heartless, Malcolm.”

It was scarce the reassurance that would have set him at ease. Before he could think of how to ask for tidings of Catriona’s child, Erik came to the portal of the hall. “We are ready, Vivienne,” he said, as grim as he had been earlier.

“Of course!”

“At least ride in the cart,” Malcolm muttered. He saw Catriona bringing satchels down the stairs, hastening to pack for her lady. She left them at the foot of the stairs, bracing her hand upon the small of her back for a moment before she turned to fetch more. He felt his eyes narrow.

Vivienne sat back to regard him with suspicion. “Why would you ask me of Catriona’s future in my household? What interest to you?”

Catriona straightened on the stairs to look at Malcolm, her eyes wide.

“I have developed a concern for women near their time,” he admitted gruffly, knowing that both women listened.

Vivienne clutched his hand again. “Did you lose your lady love, Malcolm? You can confide in me.”

“Nay. It was the lady of a friend,” Malcolm admitted tersely. “I vowed at his deathbed to defend her in his stead, but she died in bearing his son.”

“And the child?”

“Lost as well.” Malcolm had to avert his gaze from the disappointment he was certain to find in Catriona’s eyes. His sense of failure rose hot and hard.

“You cannot save every woman ripe with child,” Vivienne chided softly. “And indeed, most of us do not need to be saved.” She finished the last bite of her bread and drained her cup of milk, turning her attention to the children who now descended the stairs in their turn. Mairi carried Euphemia. “Have all of you eaten? Your father awaits us. Have you thanked your uncle for his hospitality?”