The Frost Maiden's Kiss (25 page)

“Never mind that cross,” Vivienne said.

“What is this?” Alexander asked.

“I noted long ago that she wore some talisman, hung from a chain around her neck, but she always kept it hidden beneath her garments,” Vivienne supplied. “I glimpsed it first when she labored to bear her son, for she held it fast to pray.”

“She wore it openly for her nuptials, perhaps for the first time ever,” Eleanor said. She pulled the amber-studded cross that had been left to her by her own mother from her chemise, cradling it on her palm. “It is much like this but a little smaller, and the gems are aquamarines and amethysts.”

Alexander was visibly astounded yet again. “But such a gem would be worth a king’s ransom.”

“Not quite,” his wife replied. “But it is a rich prize indeed.”

“Particularly for a serving woman,” Erik said. “I hope it was given to her.” An awkward silenced followed his words.

Alexander frowned. “Why would she keep such a gem when she was in need? She could have sold it to see her future assured.”

Eleanor smiled. “Because it is not just a gem.” She tucked her own cross back into her chemise. “I treasure mine beyond its worth, for it is my sole token of my mother.” A predictable fire lit her eyes. “It would take much hardship, Alexander, to change my will to die with this cross in my hand and my wedding ring upon my finger.”

Alexander did not doubt it. He surveyed his wife and recognized what she had not said. “You like her,” he accused with a smile, for it was the best argument yet in Catriona’s favor, in his view.

“Very much,” Eleanor said with a vigor that encouraged Elizabeth. “She appeared overwhelmed for a moment by the task before her but not daunted, so I offered to teach her of running a keep. She was gracious and grateful, not proud at all.” Eleanor’s lips set. “I admire a person with the wits to admit what she does not know and to accept tutelage in it.”

“Indeed,” Alexander agreed.

Eleanor came to his side, her manner hinting that she would ask some favor of him. “And so I would ask you to give your brother a chance to step into your affections again.”

“I keep his steeds!”

His wife shook her head. “Malcolm expends much coin to rebuild Ravensmuir in but half a year, and now he weds to have a son with all haste. Something is afoot. You yourself have told me that the Lairds of Ravensmuir have oft had the power to see more than most. What does Malcolm fear will happen?”

“Retribution for what he has done?” Erik suggested.

“He fears his own demise, and he fears it will be soon,” Alexander said as understanding dawned. He wondered that he had not perceived it sooner. “He puts all in order so that Ravensmuir will not tumble again.”

“Nay!” Vivienne protested.

Elizabeth knew from the tension in the room that they had all recognized the truth when they heard it.

“Help him, Alexander,” Eleanor urged. “Forgive him and join forces with him.”

“We all should help him,” Vivienne said with heat. “I would do my part to ensure that this tale has the best ending possible.”

Alexander drummed his fingers on the table where he kept his ledgers, considering his wife’s counsel. “Agreed,” he said finally.

“She invited us to return in a week, to celebrate their wedding with a feast,” Eleanor said.

“We shall go and we shall take Malcolm and Catriona a nuptial gift as an expression of good will.” Alexander knew precisely what would be the best choice. He called for the castellan, and Anthony appeared so quickly that he might have been eavesdropping.

“My lord?”

“I would ask you to send word to the village, Anthony, for I would speak to the carpenter at once.”

“Of course, sir.”

“A week hence, we will journey to Ravensmuir to celebrate Malcolm’s nuptials. If you would be so good as to inform Father Malachy that we will require his presence as well. “

“Of course, my lord.”

“What will you take to them?” Vivienne asked with evident excitement. “Wine? There is naught in his hall.” She wrinkled her nose. “I believe he goes into the ruins, though he would not speak to me of it. I told him that Isabella had the ring, for I feared he sought it, but I am not certain it mattered.”

Into the ruins?

Had Malcolm become more daring or was he reckless? Did he know more of the ruins than the rest of them, or did he have no care for his hide?

Elizabeth readily recalled that the Fae liked those caverns and could not suppress her excitement. The Fae were responsible in some way for the change in her brother, and Elizabeth was determined to find out what that change might be.

“I will go and speak to him,” Elizabeth offered, stepping forward even as her family started at her words. “If he goes into the ruins, he might feel threatened by the Fae.”

“And you alone can see them,” Alexander said with a nod. “Of course, you shall come with us in a week.”

“Nay!” Elizabeth spoke with a passion that had become rare for her. “I must go on the morrow, before Midsummer’s Eve.” She saw the others exchange glances of wonder, and Eleanor press Alexander’s arm to encourage his agreement.

Alexander considered her and she held his gaze, hoping he did not ask what she sensed or saw, for there was little she could tell him. She had a feeling, ’twas no more than that, and an urgency fed by her own yearning to join to Fae.

“I will escort you there, after the mass in the morning and wait for you at the borders,” he said and she smiled in her anticipation. Alexander studied her for a moment, as if amazed by the sight of her, then he smiled as well.

“You will not come into the hall with me?” Elizabeth asked, but Alexander’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“I sense that you would speak to Malcolm alone,” he said. “I will see Malcolm and his bride in a week.”

“Thank you, Alexander!” Elizabeth said, not hiding her pleasure.

Her oldest brother smiled. “You have asked for so little these past years, Elizabeth. I am glad to see you impassioned with some matter, as once was so characteristic of you.”

The others smiled at her with affection and Elizabeth found herself blushing, the heat of her response chasing some of the chill away.

Chapter Nine

Catriona was fearful as she seldom had been. She waited in the solar, unable to rest even though she laid abed. The hour was late. Her lord husband had yet to come to her. Her mouth was dry and her hands were trembling, and it seemed the night would last forever.

Vera had brought Avery to be nursed, then taken him to the other chamber, insisting that a couple must be alone on their wedding night. As irksome as the older woman’s chatter could be, Catriona found the silence worse.

It gave her fears time to breed.

The masons had been paid that day, and all had gone well. The masons had drunk well of the ale when it arrived from Kinfairlie and saluted their host. Compliments had been exchanged, then most of them had loaded their carts and left.

Ravensmuir seemed oddly silent without the sound of their camp, and the fields looked bare without their tents. Catriona had the odd sense that she was not the sole one awaiting something in the night.

She heard a tread on the stairs then and burrowed beneath the covers. She felt a coward when she feigned sleep, but she did not know what else to do. She heard her husband wish Vera a good night, then he came into the solar. He did not bring a light. He shed his boots just inside the portal and Catriona struggled to make her breathing sound slow and regular.

She could not imagine why she troubled herself. If he had desire for her, surely he would simply awaken her. Or maybe he would just take what he desired. She prayed for strength in this moment, knowing that her son’s future hung upon her fulfillment of the laird’s expectation. Any nuptials could be put aside, if the match were not consummated. What would happen to Avery then?

She heard her husband shed his garments, his tabard and undoubtedly his chausses. She heard the straw pallet rustle as his weight settled upon it, and heard his breathing close beside her. She squeezed her eyes shut as his hand eased beneath the covers and landed upon her waist.

“I know you are awake, Catriona,” he murmured, drawing her back against his warmth. Catriona let him do as he would, though her entire body was so tightly clenched that he could not be unaware of that. “And you should know that I would demand only two tokens from you this night.”

She turned to look at him, uncertain.

He held up two fingers. “First an answer.”

That sounded simple enough. Though Catriona feared what he might ask, she nodded.

He indicated her cross. “I was surprised by this treasure today, for I had thought you penniless or near to it.” Catriona’s chest tightened as he met her gaze. “How did you come by it?”

“It was given to me by my mother.” Catriona frowned. “She put it in my hand when she was upon her deathbed.”

“Was she a noblewoman as well as a midwife?”

Catriona frowned, for she had wondered as much herself. “Not so far as I knew. I was surprised to learn that she possessed such a gem, and I believe she meant to tell me more of it, but she had no time to do so.” She grimaced. “I wish she had at least shown it to me sooner, for I should have liked to have learned more of her life in earlier times.”

His gaze roved over her features, and she thought he sought the parts of the tale she did not tell. When he spoke, though, he did not ask for more detail of her childhood, as she expected. “Yet you did not sell it, not even to secure the future of your child.”

Catriona shook her head. “I feared to be cheated, for I know little of its value.” She fingered it and cast him a smile. “But in truth, it is all I have of my mother, and I could not have surrendered it for any price.”

“I am glad you did not.” He traced the line of the chain with a fingertip. “Would you wear it always, or would you rather I locked it in the treasury?”

“I would prefer to wear it.”

“Then you shall.” He smiled at her. “Was that so difficult?”

Catriona smiled in turn and shook her head. “Nay, sir.”

He lifted that brow again.

“Malcolm,” she corrected herself, feeling that it was audacious beyond all for her to address him so, even though he was her husband.

Husband.

Malcolm smiled and reclined beside her. He was wonderfully warm and the weight of his hand upon her waist was not unpleasant. His thumb moved against her skin in a caress that made her pulse flutter.

“And the second token?” she found herself asking, her words breathless.

That simmering gaze landed upon her mouth. “A kiss, Catriona, no more than that.”

“You may take whatsoever you desire from me, my lord.” At his glance, she corrected herself. “Malcolm.”

“Nay, Catriona, you will take that kiss from me.” He laid back then, those eyes gleaming like stars in the night, and waited. Again, she had the sense that he was as agile as a predator, but this time, she knew he sought to win her trust. She might not ever give it fully, but she had to meet him halfway.

“I have little skill in this,” she admitted.

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Yet I have it on good authority that one can always choose to change the future with one’s deeds.”

He was right. She had no desire to spend all of her life afraid of intimacy, simply due to one horrific night. If she meant to move beyond her past, she had to choose to do so.

And here was the best opportunity.

She had kissed him once.

She could do it again.

Indeed, he was chivalrous in inviting her thus, rather than simply claiming his due. Catriona sensed again that she had wed well, against all expectation.

She rolled to face him and placed her hand upon his chest. Malcolm only waited. She leaned over him and touched her lips quickly to his, so quickly that she had only the barest taste of the ale. She retreated, fearful of his reaction.

Still Malcolm did not move.

“I apologize,” she whispered. “That was a poor excuse for a kiss.”

“I did not complain,” he murmured, his words rumbling in his chest beneath her palm.

Catriona eased closer, feeling more bold, and raised her hand to his jaw. The muscle was taut there, a sign of how he controlled himself.

And he did as much for her.

She realized the gift he gave her with his patience and knew that he must be repaid well for such a deed. She would give him a kiss worthy of a wedding night.

Catriona leaned over Malcolm, letting her hair spill around them. She smiled down at him, feeling how his pulse quickened beneath her hand. That sign of his response, that they both savored this, was all the encouragement she needed. She bent and endeavored to kiss him as he had kissed her that night in the stables. She slanted her mouth over his, as if to coax the kiss from him, then slid her tongue over his mouth. She compelled herself to kiss him with leisure, as if they had all the time in the world.

Malcolm sighed. He fitted one hand into the small of her back, bracing her as much as he held her, his thumb still moving in that slow caress. His other hand slid up her arm and neck, his fingers spearing into her hair at her nape. He held her with exquisite tenderness, letting her kiss him as she chose.

He was hers to command, this powerful man, and it was a heady realization indeed. Catriona found herself deepening the kiss, daring to trust him, even as she ventured more. His fingers flexed and she felt him shudder with desire, but he did not force her closer. His body grew taut and a new heat emanated from him, but the play of their lips and tongues was all at her command.

It was a gift fit to make Catriona weep. While hers was not so fine a kiss as the one Malcolm had given her, it set her heart to racing in a new way. She felt a strange and languorous heat unfurl within her, and when she finally lifted her head, there was satisfaction in her husband’s smile. He eased the hair back from her cheek with a gentle fingertip, then lifted her hand from his jaw and kissed her palm, his gaze clinging to hers.

God in heaven, but she could come to love this man.

That was a revelation sufficient to make her blink.