The Frost Maiden's Kiss (44 page)

A treasure such as this deserved no less.

* * *

Malcolm saw to his guests’ comfort, then found Rosamunde by his elbow.

There was a sadness in her eyes and she seemed unusually emotional. It was clear she wished to ask him something, and Padraig gave Malcolm a nod. They walked across the inner bailey, toward the sea, together, and Malcolm thought his aunt meant to give him advice. Perhaps she did not know where to begin.

But he knew what he had to tell her. “I saw him, these past months,” he said and her head snapped up. “Tynan’s ghost.”

“Is that who moved the furnishings of Ravensmuir out of the ruins?”

“I believe so, strange as it seems. I could not venture far into the collapsed keep myself, certainly not far enough to retrieve any such tokens.”

“But you went into them.”

“Just here.” Malcolm indicated the entry where he had sat night after night. “I took refuge in this nook, out of the wind, and I felt as if I were in his company.”

Rosamunde smiled sadly. “For he is ever at Ravensmuir.”

“No longer. Alexander said he waved farewell and disappeared.”

“He could see him?”

Malcolm nodded. “Not I, though I would have paid any price for a single glimpse.”

“As would I,” Rosamunde said, sighing heavily. She touched her fingertips to Malcolm’s arm. “Make no mistake: I am fortunate beyond all in Padraig and I know it well. I love him with all my heart.”

“Or all of it that is yet yours.”

She looked at him warily.

“Catriona has told me this week that her foster mother believed that once you surrender a part of your heart to another, it is no longer yours to reclaim. She taught Catriona to love boundlessly and often, the better to have more love to give. I think it wise counsel.”

“A foster mother of good sense,” Rosamunde mused. “It seemed I have something in common with your new bride.” She smiled a little. “I will never forget Tynan, but we could never have made a good match.” Rosamunde shook her head. “We were both too stubborn and held different things in high esteem.” She bit her lip and sat upon the rock where Malcolm had spent so much time, sliding her hand across the surface of stone. “I have come to believe it is better this way. Although he disappointed me in our parting, I can love him still, for he simply was the man he was.”

“I dreamed that he advised me not to make his error.”

“Tynan did not err. He could not have chosen differently. If he had, he would not have been the man I loved.” Rosamunde smiled sadly. “And if we had remained together, our differences would have driven us apart. Nay, neither of us would have changed willingly, and both would have resented any compromise. That would have destroyed our love, and that would have been more tragic.”

“Padraig knows this?”

“Padraig only knew me when I loved Tynan. He has never sought to change me and has never wished that I were other than I am. I adore him. We make each other laugh and we greet the day with a passion for adventure.” She smiled at Malcolm. “We are sufficiently alike that our match is an excellent one.”

“Do you dream of Tynan?”

“I have.” She flicked another look at Malcolm. “The last time I dreamed of him, he bade me make haste to Ravensmuir for a wedding. Then he kissed his fingertips, as so oft I have seen him do, and faded to naught. I knew then that I should never dream of him again.” She frowned anew. “I am glad it is because he has found his peace.” She smiled then, her expression wistful. “Though I should not be surprised that he would linger until Ravensmuir was secured.” She stood up and braced her hands upon Malcolm’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “If he never told you this, then I will. He loved you like a son, Malcolm, and was proud of all you did. He would have been proud of you this day, I know this to be so—” she smiled “—in what crumbs remain of my heart.”

“Thank you.” Malcolm embraced his aunt, liking that she took a bracing breath and blinked back her tears. He had never seen her weep and was not certain what he would have done if she had wept now. It would have been less startling to see her nude.

“I will stay here, for just a moment, if you please,” she said then, her tone turning as crisp as a sea breeze. “See to your guests while I put some memories to rest.”

Malcolm kissed her cheeks anew, then did as she asked.

* * *

And so it was that Malcolm watched Vera and Ruari exchange their vows before Father Malachy. The sky was clear blue and the wind from the sea was brisk. He caught himself scanning the sky more than once, certain the ravens would arrive soon, but there was no sign of them.

As he scanned the company, he doubted he was the only one to note how Rafael’s gaze followed his youngest sister. He hoped Alexander would hold his tongue for one day at least. After all, Elizabeth looked daggers at his old comrade, so there would be little achieved there.

Catriona was a woman transformed when she met him before the chapel, her eyes sparkling with a happiness he never wished to see extinguished. Her cheeks were flushed and her delight so clear that it was hard to believe he had ever imagined her cold of heart. Eleanor rocked Avery as they made their vows once again, this time before so many witnesses and family.

When the nuptials had been declared, Malcolm turned with Catriona to face the company. To his enormous pleasure, it was not just Ranulf who pledged his service to Malcolm’s hand. Louis and Giorgio chose to remain, as did Gunter and Amaury, Tristan and Bertrand.

Rafael acted as if there had never been any indication he might leave. There was a new ease between his old comrade and his wife, as if each had taken the measure of the other on Midsummer’s Eve and accepted what they had each found.

It was a party filled with laughter that returned to the hall, to the confusion of new servants arrived and familiar servants trying to set matters to rights. There was more than one jest about the great bed Alexander and Eleanor had brought to Malcolm and Catriona as a wedding gift, and Catriona had been awed by the draperies upon it. Rosamunde presented Catriona with a trunk filled with beautiful lengths of cloth and vowed to bring her some fine leather slippers of the right size. She also gave cloth to Vera, who hugged it as tightly as a beloved babe.

Erik had indeed given his leave to Ruari to remain at Ravensmuir, just as Alexander had consented for Vera to remain at Malcolm’s holding. The pair intended to occupy the first house in Ravensmuir’s new village, and Ruari would be Malcolm’s master of arms. Vera had been delighted when Catriona asked her to aid in ensuring that all ran smoothly within the keep until a castellan was chosen. Ruari complained about remaining at Ravensmuir forever, but Vera teased him so much that he did not look overly displeased.

Kinfairlie’s baker sent fresh trenchers for the feast, the brewster brought ale and the dogs could not believe their good fortune that there was so much fare in the hall.

“A tale!” Ranulf roared when the meal was completed and the fires yet burning bright. He raised his cup and shouted again. “A tale!”

“A tale!” Elizabeth echoed, raising her own cup. She and Ranulf laughed at each other and drank each other’s health, even as Rafael scowled at them both.

“I know just the one,” Catriona said and rose to her feet, clapping her hands for silence. She smiled at Malcolm, then began.

“Once, there was a man, who stood heir to a holding he loved with all his heart. His treasury was bare, though, and his responsibilities were great. And so it was that he surrendered the signet ring and the seal of his holding, and custody of the steeds his family had long bred on his holding, to his loyal brother and set forth to find his fortune.”

Malcolm sat back and savored the music of his wife’s voice as she recounted his own tale. He looked over the company with pride and satisfaction, the height of his new hall, the health of Catriona’s son, and knew his life was better than ever he had hoped it might be.

There was but one gift left he would bestow upon his lady wife.

He could not wait for it to arrive.

Friday, October 23, 1428

Feast Day of Saint Severinus Boethius and Saint Romanus, Bishop of Rouen.

* * *

Epilogue

The harvest had been gathered when a ship appeared on the horizon to the east of Ravensmuir. It had not been a large harvest, for only a small increment of Ravensmuir’s fields had been tilled, and the soil had been turned late. But Alexander had supplied seed for oats that matured early, and Malcolm was well pleased.

The village of Ravensmuir already grew, for half a dozen young men had requested of Alexander that they move to Ravensmuir and Malcolm’s brother had graciously assented. With new fields, there was more opportunity to establish an income at Ravensmuir, and numerous younger sons in Kinfairlie’s village wished to wed their sweethearts. By the time the harvest was safely stored in the stables and Ravensmuir’s small chapel nearly complete, there were four weddings to be celebrated there.

Avery was a vigorous boy and one who seemed disinclined to fall ill. His easy nature made him a joy to all in the keep and already he showed his mother’s resolve to conquer all obstacles. He would be a fine knight and a finer laird, in Malcolm’s view.

Ruari and Vera did settle into the first house built in the village, which seemed to give Ruari the notion that he was in charge of all to be done there. When the village grew larger and if the need arose, Malcolm had already decided to make that man sheriff. The wet nurse Greta was a plain girl with a giving nature, and it seemed Ranulf had been lost with a single look. He courted her with a diligence Malcolm recognized well, and Malcolm did not doubt there would be a fifth wedding in Ravensmuir’s chapel by the Yule.

Catriona learned much from Eleanor, and more from Anthony’s choice of castellan, one Roger who had been brought from York. Roger was older than Malcolm but younger than Anthony, and every measure as fastidious as Kinfairlie’s castellan. He followed direction but also anticipated needs with a skill that both Catriona and Malcolm had already come to rely upon. To Malcolm’s pleasure, Roger was not a man to put aside any asset, and insisted that he had need of Vera’s considerable experience. The pair of them managed the keep and the staff with ease and authority.

Rosamunde had lent her expertise to identify a place just to the south of Ravensmuir where a ship could be docked. The fallen rock meant that a ship could not drop anchor so close to shore as had once been the case, but Rosamunde knew the coast well. She had found a mooring not so far from the one previously used and a place to land a smaller boat on the shore nearby. Although the climb was steep up the cliffs, it could be done, and she vowed that she and Padraig would use it often.

It was remarkable to Malcolm to look upon his hall and his holding, and think of how much had changed since his return in January.

He heard the jingle of keys and turned to find Catriona approaching, her sheathed dagger on one side of her belt, the keys to the pantries on the other. He loved how she had blossomed in her role and her confidence. He smiled and offered his hand to her, kissing her palm as was his wont and drawing her against his side. It would take a less observant man than Malcolm to have failed to note the slight rounding of her belly, but he left the sharing of her tidings to his lady wife.

She was not the sole one who planned a surprise, after all, and he would not disappoint her.

“There is a ship,” she said, pointing to the vessel in question. Already it had drawn closer, its sails billowed in a good wind. “Are these more relations of yours, or does it simply pass us by?”

“Have you fare for guests?”

“Of course.” Catriona smiled up at him. “But you know Roger. He wishes to plan for every eventuality in advance.”

“I believe they make for Ravensmuir,” Malcolm admitted, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the sea in sunlight as he watched the ship. “At least I hope as much, for I have been expecting someone.”

“Someone, husband?”

“Someone, lady mine.” Malcolm ignored her curiosity and kissed her brow. “I shall go to the cliffs, just in case.”

“And you will not tell me who it might be?”

“Not before I am certain.” Malcolm winked at her, noting the stern look she granted to him. “But I am not the only one with a secret, lady mine. Am I?”

Catriona flushed and smiled then, poking him with her finger. “I wanted to surprise you with news of the babe!”

“Then you should have confessed the truth before I could see it,” he replied, drawing her close to his side again. Catriona nestled against him, seemingly content with her situation.

“You are cursed perceptive,” she complained, her tone teasing. “I wanted only to wait until the time of greatest risk was past, lest you be disappointed.”

“And is it?”

“More or less. I believe you will have a new child before the spring, my lord.” She tipped her head to look up at him, her eyes sparkling with a happiness that made his heart leap. “March, perhaps.”

Malcolm nodded. “It is a good time for a birth, after the worst of winter.”

“Indeed. I might have thought you had planned it that way.”

“I could never have planned upon you, lady mine.” Malcolm could not resist her smile, but bent and kissed her thoroughly. The heat rose between them as it did every time they touched, and he might have suggested they spend the afternoon alone in the solar, in the great bed that Alexander and Eleanor had given them. When he lifted his head, he saw that Catriona’s thinking was much the same, for she pursed her lips and flicked a glance at the ship. It was now clearly destined for Ravensmuir and drew quite close.

“Wretched guests,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling. “But as you have invited them, I suppose we must greet them well.”

“Indeed, we must, lady mine.” Malcolm kissed her hand again before he stepped away. “But trust me in this, Catriona. You will not regret it.” Before she could ask, he strode away, heading for the cliffs and the arrival who would make his lady’s happiness complete.