The Frost Maiden's Kiss (40 page)

“You promised me!” Jeanne swatted her uncle’s arm. “You said I would be Lady of Ravensmuir. You said this keep would be mine to manage. You said I would be wedded this very day! I rose from bed when it was still dark to do your will. I rode all this way, but it was for
naught
!” She punctuated this last with a stamp of her foot and a covetous glare around the hall. “I want it,” she insisted, as if sheer will could make it so, and folded her arms across her chest.

“Yet it shall not be yours,” Malcolm said softly.

Jeanne exhaled, then spun to confront his sister. “Give it to me.”

Elizabeth frowned. “I do not understand…”

“Give me the herb that will let me see the Fae. I will drink sweet mead from a golden cup and live in finery and wealth. If my family cannot see that it will be so, then I have no qualms in abandoning them for a better life.”

Catriona felt her eyes widen. Here was another who believed the Fae to be real!

She watched as Elizabeth pulled a fresh herb from her purse. She asked for a cup of mulled wine and Catriona fetched one for her, heating it over the fire though she doubted the results. The herb was wild thyme, Catriona could smell its distinctive pungent scent when it was plunged into the wine.

She vaguely recalled hearing that it gave this gift, though she had never put much credence in it.

Until Jeanne drained the potion. The maiden swallowed it down, she looked around, and her eyes widened with horror. “They are everywhere!” she cried with disgust. “It is as if the hall is full of vermin!” She glanced down at her feet, dancing backward as if pursued by some invisible creature. She squealed and snatched at the hem of her skirts. “It bit me!”

Elizabeth seemed to swallow a smile, her gaze following the same path that Jeanne’s did. Malcolm, Catriona saw, was also watching the floor of the hall, as if he followed the progress of a small creature. Jeanne screamed and retreated, then fled to the bailey and her steed.

Her uncle followed, but Catriona did not care for his choices, not now.

If the Fae were real, if this potion gave a mortal the power to see them, then Catriona knew what had to be done.

She curtseyed before Malcolm’s sister. “I welcome you to Ravensmuir, as well, Elizabeth, but must ask of you a favor. Would you make such a potion for me, as well?”

Elizabeth smiled, her eyes lighting. “Of course. ’Tis why I brought it.”

* * *

The raven came first.

It landed on the window sill of the great hall in the late afternoon, with a cry that made all within that chamber jump.

The men were gathered in the hall, planning for the earl’s reaction to the morning’s events. Malcolm did not doubt that he would respond in some way: his desire for alliance with Ravensmuir or even Malcolm’s subjugation was clear. Also, Catriona had seen those men in the earl’s party dispatched on some errand.

Malcolm hoped it did not mean war, and that he would not be leaving his holding in disarray. With every passing day, his yearning to survive grew stronger, thanks to Catriona. Yet again, she might hold the key. Catriona conferred with Elizabeth about the Fae, comparing the tales she had learned with what Elizabeth had witnessed. Malcolm had been savoring a wondrous sense that all things came together to make his keep a home, when the bird cried out.

The raven had to be a portent of good. He was on his feet immediately, approaching the bird with care and trying to identify it.

“God in Heaven!” Vera cried as the creature bobbed its head.

It seemed to survey the room with its beady eyes. It had a streak of silver on its brow that Malcolm recognized.

“Welcome, Melusine,” Malcolm said, then made a distinctive whistle. The bird cried out, as if in reply, then took flight anew.

“Trust a Hellhound to have a pet raven,” Tristan jested and the others laughed.

“More than one,” Elizabeth contributed. “Once there were dozens of them living here.” The men were discomfited by these tidings, but Malcolm hastened to the window and peered at the sky.

“Gone,” he murmured, knowing his disappointment would be clear to all. He followed the bird’s course, then stilled as he noticed movement on the far fields of Ravensmuir.

Melusine had come to warn him.

“Are the gates secured?” he asked, his words bringing the others to their feet.

“Aye, and Louis stands sentinel,” Amaury supplied. “Why?”

“Who arrives?” Ranulf asked, going to Malcolm’s side.

In that same moment, Louis appeared at the portal. “A large party approaches,” he said. “A party riding to war. I have locked the portcullis, but we should be prepared.”

“Is it the earl?” Reynaud asked.

Malcolm said naught but climbed the stairs, Catriona fast on his heels, to look out the tower window. The rain had stopped earlier in the morning, and this party kicked up a plume of dust in their haste to arrive. The horses were so numerous that he could not count them. Sunlight glinted on armor and banners waved over the party, indicating that their visit might not be a friendly one.

“Douglas returns,” Malcolm murmured, noting the insignia. His gaze danced over the company spreading across his fields, pitching tents, creating a barricade that would seal Ravensmuir on the land side. “He will have the reception he deserves.”

“I would not have our nuptials cost so much as this,” Catriona said beside him.

Malcolm seized her hand. “I agreed to the betrothal he suggested, for I had little choice, and I believed I would never have to make the match. Later, though, I feared he would simply march upon Ravensmuir when I was gone and seize it for his own.”

She looked up at him. “Who would defend it, then?”

“I feared that my brother would try to defend it and our family would lose much more than one sorry soul.” Malcolm smiled at the woman he was coming to love. “I confess I thought your arrival and situation timely, but the notion would not have come to me if I had not thought yours a fine hand to have in mine.” He brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Never doubt it, Catriona.”

She smiled at him, a gift richer than any prize in his treasury.

He gestured to the women’s kirtles. “You cannot dress thus, for it will make you targets. Let us ensure that they cannot readily identify the women.”

Let them be unable to find Catriona and kill her now.

Malcolm strode to his gear and offered Catriona a pair of his chausses, as well as a leather jerkin. He laced it himself as she braided her hair. “Amaury’s feet are smaller than mine. Perhaps he has a second pair of boots.” Malcolm knotted the lace then tucked Catriona’s braid into her chemise. He found another chemise for his sister, who dressed quickly. “And we shall see Vera outfitted as well.”

“We can fight,” Elizabeth said.

“I pray you will not have to.”

“Should we send word to Kinfairlie?” Catriona asked.

“It is too late,” Malcolm said. “They mean to seal us from assistance. See the way the troops are arrayed? Any messenger would be lost before he made the road.” He braced his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “This battle is ours alone.”

“I pray that we shall triumph.”

Malcolm smiled. “Come, lady mine, we go to parlay with the army at our gates.”

“Me, as well?”

“There is a form to such encounters, Catriona. I would have you learn it.”

He left the rest unsaid but had no doubt his astute wife heard his underlying concern.

She might have to defend this holding without him. Until his dying breath, Malcolm would teach her what he knew.

“Elizabeth, I would have you remain with Vera and Avery, locked into the chamber before the solar.” His sister nodded with a meekness unexpected, but Malcolm would take advantage where he found it.

He led the way to the gatehouse newly constructed to close the gap in the thorned hedge, his lady wife beside him. The portcullis was dropped and Ranulf stood at the base of the stairs, arms folded across his chest. Rafael was in the staircase in the tower. Georgio with his horned helm stood on the top of the wall surveying the army. The rest of Malcolm’s comrades flowed behind him, two carrying a trunk at his command. He pointed and they moved to fill it with a particular gift, then hurried to the gatehouse.

He could feel Catriona’s uncertainty and spoke to her quietly. “At parlay, the terms are defined. They will tell us of their desire.”

“Ravensmuir,” Gunter muttered.

“And we shall give our response,” Malcolm continued.

“Leave now or die,” Tristan contributed.

Malcolm glanced over his grim fellows. “It is possible to negotiate at parlay,” he reminded them.

“But highly unlikely when an army camps outside your gates,” Amaury provided. “They do not come to leave with empty hands, my lady.”

“And we know the prize they desire,” Gunter declared.

“They will not claim it with ease,” Ranulf said.

Tristan and Reynaud carried the trunk up the stairs of the gatehouse, keeping it out of sight of the opposing force. Louis was hunkered down on the roof already, his crossbow loaded and trained on the leading party.

“They will not leave with naught,” Malcolm said. “But they will leave with something they did not expect.”

He watched Catriona’s gaze flick to the trunk and back to him again. She appeared to be mystified, so she had not seen what his men had done.

“As in many things, lady mine, surprise is key to gaining the upper hand.” He led her to the stairs, hesitating when he looked over the army. “They have bowsmen and their bows are loaded. Remain here and listen.” Her eyes widened, but she did as bidden, pressing herself back against the stone wall as Ranulf indicated.

Malcolm doffed his helm and stepped onto the roof of the gatehouse, choosing to greet them with bravado. “I am Malcolm Lammergeier, Laird of Ravensmuir!” he cried, acting as if he and the earl had not parted just hours before. “Who comes to my gates in such unfriendly fashion?”

Banners were unfurled and drums beaten as a trio of men urged their destriers forward. They were fine horses, chestnut of hue with white socks, and finely caparisoned in the colors of the house of Douglas. A palfrey was led behind them, a maiden with red hair riding upon it.

So, Jeanne had decided not to abandon her ambition just yet.

Rafael flicked a glance at Catriona. “I grow fond of you, my lady, now that you vex this earl’s scheme.” He lowered his gaze to one of the arrow slits, peering through it at the approaching party. “He is a man I like to deny.”

“As you well know, I am Archibald, Earl of Wigtown and Fifth Earl of Douglas,” the earl declared. “And you know why I have returned, Malcolm. I have brought Jeanne to you this day, that your nuptials could be celebrated before us all.”

“We have discussed this already, and agreed to disagree.”

“We have not discussed this detail!” The earl rode forward and stood in his stirrups. “You owe me, Malcolm Lammergeier, and I demand the debt be paid.”

“I owe you naught!”

“You abandoned my father’s forces in Verneuil! You left the army without permission, and without your blade raised alongside all the others, my father, my brother and my sister’s husband all lost their lives in a single day.”

“That is a weighty loss indeed, but I had need of no permission to leave that army.”

“You pledged your blade…”

“To an honest battle fairly fought,” Malcolm cried, interrupting the earl. “I did not ride forth to see people who surrendered to our armies be mistreated and women abused. If there is no honor in a man’s word, then there is no honor lost in breaking a pledge to serve him.”

“You insult my kin!”

“And you assaulted my wife.” Malcolm gave a nod and the trunk was opened, its contents tipped over the lip of the roof. The corpse of the intruder fell to the ground, and the earl’s shock of recognition was clear. “You have no honor. You have no right here. Take what is yours and leave my holding forever.” Malcolm donned his helm and left the parapet, even as a roar rose from the army assembled behind Douglas.

“Negotiate,” Tristan mocked with a roll of his eyes. “I knew that was not your intent, and not just because I stuffed the trunk.”

“It will take them most of the day to array themselves and prepare,” Malcolm said briskly. “We have preparations to make of our own.” He offered Catriona his hand and led her back to the keep. A single arrow came whistling out of the sky and he tucked her before himself. The point buried itself in the ground not three steps away but she did not start. Indeed, her gaze was as steely as that of his comrades.

“This will be war, then,” she said, no fainting demoiselle, and Malcolm nodded agreement.

In addition to the preparations for the keep, there was one deed he needed to do to prepare Catriona for the days ahead.

War it would be, but he must allow for the possibility of his own demise.

* * *

To Catriona’s surprise, Malcolm led her back to the solar. He crossed the chamber, and unlocked the door to the treasury. He lit a lantern just inside the door, then beckoned to her. The light glinted on the contents of the chamber, making it look like a pirate’s cave of riches. There were trunks of gold coins against the far wall, still more trunks filled with silver, all of which had to be the riches he had brought home. The chamber was not so crowded as it might have been, but he had paid the masons richly.

Before that, it must have been crowded indeed.

To her delight, the chamber was of the same size as she expected. She paced the width of the chamber twice, then nodded with satisfaction. “I thought it must be this deep,” she murmured.

Malcolm looked to be startled. “You knew its size as well as its entry?”

She smiled at him. “The solar is not large enough. I knew that several paces from this end were disguised and assumed it to be your treasury.”

“And you found the portal.”

“Only by the key hole. We should hang a tapestry on that wall to better disguise it.” She eyed the chests of coins. “Is this your plunder?”

“Naught in this chamber is plunder.”

Catriona glanced up, confused. “But you rode forth to earn your fortune and returned with all of this.”