Claire Delacroix (25 page)

I took a deep breath, relieved to concentrate upon the tale. “One wicked day, my sister went to the market to meet Alasdair as always they did. I remember that her face was alight with her love when she skipped down the stairs, I remember that I could scarce keep pace with her as I went to shop.”

“How old was she?”

“Thirteen, smitten with her first love and her last. I remember how she cried out with joy when she spied Alasdair. I remember how she ran across the market to his side. It was as if she flew.” My words faltered at the recollection. “I remember how his shoulders stiffened, how I felt that first sense that something was amiss.”

“Surely he did not reject her publically?” There was a welcome outrage in Merlyn’s tone.

“He did exactly that. I shall never forget the stony expression he wore when he turned to acknowledge her. He told her, curtly, to leave him be from that day forward, then he turned his back upon her as if she did not merit his attention further.”

Merlyn caught my shoulders in his hands. I jumped slightly, not having heard him approach, but did not turn.

“She was shattered, Merlyn. She had never been dealt such a cruel blow in all her life. The wound of her heart was there for all to see.”

“I can imagine as much.”

“But any who expected the retaliation of a sorceress were to be disappointed - Mavella covered her face with her hands, shrank into herself and wept.” I sighed. “It was terrible.”

I turned and looked Merlyn in the eye. “She has never been the same, not until this very week when she resolved to live again.”

“But what had Ada to do with it?”

“She is responsible for Alasdair’s change.”

“How can you know?”

I looked to my shoes. Here was a part of the tale that did not show me to advantage. “I could not look upon my sister’s grief for long that day. I glanced over the watchful crowd, even as I hugged Mavella tightly, and I saw Ada. She wore the smile of one well satisfied with what she had wrought. She was gleeful that my sister was in pain.”

“So, this is the root of your animosity?”

“Oh, more than that. I sent my sister home, then I followed Ada stealthily. I had a sense that she knew more than she told. I was right.”

Merlyn watched me.

“She hurried away from the market, singing beneath her breath, no doubt wanting to be in her kitchen when the miller’s son came calling for a bride. She was so certain of herself that she never anticipated me, never anticipated that she would be caught.”

“But caught she was.”

“I guessed her destination and entered her kitchen before she did. It did not take me long to find six more dead mice, their eyes poked out, their tiny bodies abused with her feigned witchery. It did not take me long to find the spool of red thread with which she had trussed so many. She was surprised when she arrived there and I presented what I had found, when I made my charge.”

My fists clenched. “And then she laughed, convinced that she had done so good a job that none would believe any accusation I made against her. She was of a wealthy family, after all, and we were no one of merit at all. I was young and angry and fearful that she was right. I slapped her, as she struck me this very day, and we fought like she-cats. There was no one else at home, no one else to hear. I blackened her eye before I left her there weeping.”

“Weeping?”

“Of course. She could not show her face in the market until that bruise healed, lest she have to explain its origins. And with the bruise, she presented no vision to tempt a reluctant suitor’s heart.”

“Did you plan as much?”

I shook my head. “I merely struck out at her. Providence did the rest. She had to wait at home for Alasdair.”

“And he did not come.”

“He wed in haste, but he did not wed Ada. He married the buxom daughter of one of the townsmen, a dark-haired and hearty woman as unlike Mavella as a woman could be.” I stared over Merlyn’s shoulder at the wall. “She died within the year in the birthing of his son, and the infant died as well.”

“How tragic.”

“It was a tragedy made more so by Ada’s whispering. She said that we had hexed the new bride in retaliation for her taking Mavella’s place.”

I met my spouse’s gaze, uncommonly anxious to persuade him of the truth. “But we are not witches, Merlyn. Indeed, if there is a witch in all of this, it is Ada. She dispenses malice into the world with gusto and it seems that there is some truth in the assertion that whatever one sends out returns threefold. She has had poor luck in her ambitions, poorer luck than it would seem a favored and wealthy daughter could have.”

“Are you superstitious,
chère
?”

I shook my head. “I endeavor to do the best for the welfare and protection of those around me, that others might reciprocate in kind. Ada is the sole exception, and it is because she seeks to grant injury to those I hold in my heart.”

“Again, that fierce love is revealed.” He stroked my cheek with his fingertip, awakening an array of tingles in my treacherous flesh. I reminded myself of my husband’s own credentials, but it was hard to recall anything beyond his pledge of love and the fire he could awaken with his touch.

I spoke hastily, thinking to finish the tale and escape. “The miller’s son left Kinfairlie after his wife’s demise, travelling south to some relations. There were rumors that he wed again. I had heard that he had returned of late, though Mavella alone has seen him. She saw him with a young boy, presumably his son, and he took no heed of her.”

“And Ada?”

“She did not linger long in Kinfairlie before she came here to tend to your father’s hearth. Her mother died around that time and she had the burden of Arnulf to bear. Her brother’s wife Fiona is shrewd with a coin, and perhaps did not appreciate two more mouths to feed. I do not know. Nor do I know precisely why Ada’s brother was anxious to give us charity upon our return to Kinfairlie.”

“But you guess that he felt remorse for his sister’s deeds?”

I nodded and bowed my head.

“What of Ada’s doting father?”

“He died about five years before Mavella’s failed courtship. After his death, of course, Ada’s mother wed again. I did not know her step-father well, he was from away and not a man inclined to be friendly. He disappeared after his wife died, and I assume he returned to his own blood.”

I sighed. “Ada’s father, though, was a kindly man, generous with his wealth and apparently blind to the foibles of his children. Or perhaps they grew unchecked in his absence. Perhaps Ada had long benefitted from his wisdom and restraint, and knew not how to behave without his counsel. The fact remains that I knew her father well and mourned his death deeply, perhaps more deeply than his own blood, who were overly concerned with dividing the spoils of his life.”

“How did you know him so well?”

I looked away, knowing this detail could be misconstrued. “Matters were apparently dour in the Gowan household and it was well known that Robert Gowan and his wife were estranged.” I paused. “Robert Gowan came to our abode often and lingered long there. He oft said that my mother made him laugh.”

Merlyn smiled in reminiscence. “It was a gift of hers.”

“I think he enjoyed the respite from the demands of his own household, and the frequent laughter of our own. He was good company, was Ada’s father, and he granted much paternal advice to Mavella and I.”

Merlyn waited, his grip still fast upon my hand.

“He died in my mother’s bed,” I confessed quietly. “My mother always said that he smiled like an angel at the end, though Malcolm scowled like a demon when he came to collect his father’s corpse.”

“Perhaps that is the root of the animosity between you and Ada,” Merlyn suggested softly.

I considered the possibility, then shrugged. “Perhaps you are right. Not only was her adored father less saintly than she had believed, but Ada discovered the truth of it along with all the rest of the village. There were those who thought this a reckoning long overdue, a humiliation to people who imagined themselves better.”

Merlyn seemed to be fighting a smile. “It is hard to conceive of Elizabeth thinking of matters that way.”

Our gazes met and we smiled in fond recollection of her earthy merriment. “Oh no, she found it most fitting that Robert died between her thighs. It was where she insisted he was happiest, and my mother long believed that a person dies best engaged in a deed he or she loves.”

“God bless her stalwart soul.” Merlyn brushed a kiss across my knuckles, awakening untold fires beneath my flesh. His words came very soft and low. “How did Elizabeth die,
chère
?”

My smile faded and my tears rose again. “Wretchedly. Pustules and boils upon her body, a fire beneath her flesh and madness in her mind.”

“And a new babe just out of her womb,” he reminded me, his words gentle yet insistent.

“Of course, yes,” I agreed hastily and nodded with unnecessary vigor. “That as well.”

“You were with her.”

“I held her hand. I told her that we had returned to Ravensmuir while she slept and that every finery was at her fingertips. She never understood my departure from this place.”

“Nor did I.”

“She liked you.”

Merlyn laughed, well pleased. “I liked Elizabeth as well, but solely as the mother of my wife.”

I ignored his manner. “She took our departure most poorly and when we returned to Kinfairlie, her health began to fail. So I lied at the end, I told her of the fine wines and tidbits arrayed upon the table, awaiting her attention. I told her of sumptuous cloth draping the bed and luxurious furs piled against her chin. She was nigh oblivious, she did not know that I lied.”

Merlyn slipped his arm around my shoulders, and kissed my temple. “But your wondrous tales gave her solace, I am sure. Elizabeth was a woman much comforted by finery.”

“It was a lie, Merlyn,” I said bitterly, shrugging off his embrace. “Yet another lie in a long retinue of lies, another falsehood in the stream of falsehoods that have fallen from my lips since first leaving this place.”

I strode away from him, my arms wrapped about myself. Despair assailed me as it seldom did and I knew myself for the failure that I had become. “For years I have blamed you for making a liar of me, but the sorry truth is that I have made the choice to let each falsehood pass my lips. I am disgusted with the person I have become.” I turned to study him. “You have chosen the wrong assistant in your quest for truth, Merlyn. You are wrong in thinking me a person of integrity. I cannot aid you.”

* * *

The words hung between us for a long time, only the rustling of the birds overhead filling the air. Then Merlyn shook his head slowly. “No,
chère
.” He strolled after me like a great cat, his gaze pinning me in place when I might have turned away. “I made no error.”

I would have protested, but his thumb landed heavily upon my lips, silencing me as effectively as the admiration in his eyes.

“Your loyalty is beyond question, once you grant it, and your desire for justice is far greater than that of any I have known. You willingly jeopardize yourself and sacrifice your own desires for the good of those you love.”

I shook free of his touch. “Then bring Tynan back to me.” As soon as I voiced my demand, I knew that it irked Merlyn.

“Do you not already have my guarantee? Is my pledge insufficient for you?”

“How can you ask as much?” I spun away from him and put the meager width of the chapel between us. “The sea is a capricious mistress, Merlyn. Even you cannot control all the matters that might go awry.”

“No, I cannot,” he admitted, but he looked uncommonly pleased.

“And of course, there is your own unknown scheme for the boy,” I amended hastily.

Merlyn closed the distance between us with one step, then raised a finger to ease an errant tendril of hair behind my ear. His finger slid over the curve of my ear in a caress that left me dizzy. I could scarcely breathe, so close was he, so intent was his gaze.

“My own wickedness,” he whispered against my temple and I closed my eyes. “Which you forgot, if only for a moment.”

What he considered a triumph, I could only see as a failure. I ducked around him and crossed the chapel once more. “I thought you gone from Ravensmuir, and good riddance.”

His smile flashed. “Ah, but we have a wager,
chère
, by your own dictate. Having encouraged you to aid me, it would be churlish to not reward your daily efforts with my nocturnal ones.”

I cursed myself when a heated flush rose over my cheeks. Merlyn chuckled, doing nothing to ease my discomfiture. He pursued me and I ignored him. I closed my eyes at the caress of his breath against my nape, the slide of his fingertip down my throat. “Of what did you dream last night,
chère
?”

“I did not sleep.”

His fingers slid into the hair and I fought valiantly against his allure. “Nor did I,” he murmured. I felt his lips upon my ear, his breath upon my temple, and I clenched my fists against the vigor of my desire.

“Guilt clearly kept you awake,” I said, belying the weakness of my knees with a strident tone.

Merlyn chuckled. His other hand rose to cup my breast and I glanced down, appalled to find that my labor had left the wool damp and my nipples clearly discernible.

I gasped and tried to pull away but he held me captive in the circle of his embrace.

“You love with vigor and tenacity,
chère
, and expect nothing in return,” Merlyn whispered. I glanced up and found his eyes filled with that unsettling admiration.

“I am the stronger one. It falls to me to protect my younger siblings. It is only right and proper.”

Merlyn bent and kissed me with such tender vigor that my toes curled. “You grant more than others expect or even perhaps than they deserve.”

“No, I...”

“Hush.” His gaze searched mine, his expression intent as he hovered close. His voice dropped low. “If ever a man could prove himself worthy of your trust, would you love him with the same ferocious ardor?”

I knew that Merlyn spoke of no random man, but himself. I felt the dawning love I had once felt for him awaken once more, then reminded myself that Merlyn had lied to me.