Claire Delacroix (37 page)

“Why?” Merlyn’s eyes brightened.

I looked at my hands. “We have already discussed our doubts about his parentage,” I said carefully. “Perhaps he is a Lammergeier. This way, he can train for the lairdship and all will know his destiny.”

Silence stretched taut between Merlyn and me.

“But if some killer hunts the Lammergeier, this will put Tynan at risk,” Mavella said fearfully.

“Then praise God that he is away from here,” I said with resolve. “Is this why you seized him?”

Mavella caught her breath, but Merlyn nodded slowly.

“I knew they would come,” he acknowledged, indicating the men below with a quick move of his head. “Indeed, they could do nothing else. And I feared, it is true, that all the Lammergeier were to be hunted. This matter must be resolved, if we are to live in peace again.”

I took a deep breath. “Then it is good that Tynan is abroad. Being openly acknowledged as heir may serve to protect him.”

“You have no other reason for choosing him,
chère
?” Merlyn prompted, his words soft and compelling. I came close to surrendering my secret to him, but my sister’s presence and my own temerity halted me.

I lifted my chin and met Merlyn’s regard. “None beyond the fact that he is my brother and my responsibility. I, too, am mortal, Merlyn, and I fear for my Tynan’s well-being in my absence. Ravensmuir could secure his future.”

Merlyn regarded me for a long moment before he nodded. He smiled as he turned to Mavella. “A man has come to beg the right to wed you, Mavella. He even insists that he has no need for a dowry, so fathomless is his love.”

“Alasdair!” my sister cried, her face lighting like a beacon.

Merlyn smiled and this time his pleasure lit his eyes. He was fond of my sister, I saw, and as well pleased as I with what he had wrought. “You favor his suit?”

“Of course!”

“Then, I will offer my congratulations to him, and suggest that he may have the priest in Kinfairlie call the banns.” Merlyn frowned at the floor. “I would prefer that you leave with him this day, Mavella. Though it may cause some scandal, you will be safer in Kinfairlie than here. Perhaps Malcolm Gowan and his wife will provide you with fitting accommodations until your nuptials.”

Mavella glanced to me, uncertainty lighting her eyes. “If you insist...”

“And I would have you take your sister with you...”

“No, Merlyn! No!” I leapt to my feet and crossed the chamber. “I will not leave you here alone. We are wed, partners for better or for worse, and...”

His thumb landed quickly on my mouth, silencing my protest, and his eyes sparkled. “And how did I guess that you would say as much, wife of mine?” He kissed me quickly on the brow, obviously enjoying how I sputtered that he had guessed my response.

He then pulled his inlaid box from beneath his arm and presented it to me. Our fingers brushed as I took it from him once again. “Keep this for me,
chère
. The hall on this night will be no place for treasures.”

He bent and brushed his fingertips across my lips, then whispered an astonishing command in my ear. Then he smiled and retreated down the stairs.

I could not let him go so easily as that! I seized his shoulder before he disappeared.

“You risk too much in revealing yourself, Merlyn,” I said for his ears alone.

“Do you fear for me,
chère
?” He whispered as did I.

I nodded once, my throat tight. “Your wound is not fully healed. There was blood in the stables.”

He shrugged, though there was no such insouciance in the heat of his gaze. “I may have ridden too hard to Kinfairlie, in my haste to win my lady’s desire.”

“So you then rode to Haddington as well.”

He grinned, unrepentant. “We shall see all of this behind us soon,
chère
.”

“If you survive it.”

“I have always had an unholy luck.”

“As befits a demon?”

We smiled at each other, then our laughter faded and a hunger lit Merlyn’s gaze. There was no time to say all that needed saying or to confess every sweet burden of my heart. I bent to kiss his brow as he had so often kissed mine. I found myself trembling, and fearful that I could so obviously be in need of another.

“Be careful, Merlyn. I could not bear to be without you now.”

He did not answer me, not in words, but then, I could not blame him for not granting me a guarantee that might not be true. He lifted my hand from his shoulder, then slid his thumb across the silver ring upon my finger.

Before I could speak, he captured my fingers in his grip and kissed the ring. “There is nothing to fear on this night,
chère
, not when the hall is full of men all watching each other.” Merlyn kissed my palm, folded my hand over the heat of his embrace. “It will be when they depart that the peril begins.”

And I knew he spoke the truth.

* * *

After several moments, I heard the men leave for the hall, the echoing silence of their absence leaving me bereft. The sounds of merrymaking persuaded me to not lend chase. The men were drinking, celebrating, emptying Ravenmuir’s cellar of stores, and the hall was no place for women.

Mavella sat on the great bed and chattered happily of what Alasdair had told her. I carefully unlocked Merlyn’s box and removed the small sack of jewels. Mavella’s tale faltered as her curiosity had the better of her. I took her hand in mine and she gasped aloud as I spilled the sack’s contents into her palm.

“Ysabella! What is this?”

“Your dowry,” I smiled at her. “As befits the daughter of Elizabeth of Kinfairlie.”

Her mouth dropped open. “No, Ysabella, you cannot do this...”

“Merlyn insisted as much and I think his counsel good. This is your guarantee for your children and yourself.”

“But...”

“Consider it a nuptial gift.”

“But...”

“Every field has a bad harvest once in a while. Even millstones fall silent in some years. Take it, Mavella, take it with the hope that you be healthy and hale and never have need of it for all the days of your life.”

She fell upon me, her tight embrace nigh driving the breath from my very lungs. We began to laugh as we had in childhood, our merriment mingled with tears.

“God smiles upon us in this place,” she said, marveling. “I never dreamed of knowing such good fortune as has found us here at Ravensmuir.”

We gathered up the gems and poured them back into the sack. I knew it was not good fortune but the choices of my husband that saw my sister’s happiness and prosperity assured. “There is one gift yet owed to you. You have need of a dress for your nuptials, and we shall choose one from that trunk.”

“Ysabella, I can take no more from you.”

“You will take some raiment, and this will be the gift that all know that I have given you. And we will shorten the hem together tonight, stitching good wishes into every measure.” I shook the sack of gems before her eyes. “And when we are done, this sack will be empty, your riches pooled around your feet, and none in this hall or in these lands will be the wiser.”

“Oh.” Mavella fingered the sack once more. “Are they stolen?”

“No,” I said, hoping it was true. “We simply do not wish for you to be taxed by these avaricious earls.”

We set to work then, choosing finally a dress of red samite trimmed with ermine, as regal a garment as ever I had seen. Mavella was loathe to claim it but I insisted that I could not wear such a hue, due to the shade of my own hair.

She loved the garment - I know this, for she acquiesced with only the slightest argument. We summoned Berthe to aid in the fitting of the gown and the adjustment of the hem - so that all would hear what we did - then I sent the girl to bed.

Mavella and I sat and sewed, long into the night, the lanterns flickering as she told me far more than I wished to know of the marvels of Alasdair. I only half-listened, my thoughts whirling.

Though I was happy for my sister, I feared mightily for what the coming days might bring to Ravensmuir’s doors.

Mavella eventually fell asleep in the great bed, but I could not be still. And Merlyn did not come, even after the hall fell into the silence of drunken stupor.

I could not sleep for fear of Merlyn’s welfare, which troubled me as much as his absence. I had never been so dependent upon another, never relied upon another soul, though many relied upon me. The change in my circumstance made me deeply uneasy - especially as Merlyn seemed determined to court his own demise.

* * *

December 31

Feast Day of Saint Sylvester,

Saint Columba,

Saint Melania the Younger.

Hogmanay

* * *

XV

The sun rose, a blood red disk wreathed in wraithlike clouds. The very sight made me shiver. I stood on the trunk and stared out the high windows of the solar, watching the eastern wind whip the ocean waves higher. The sea was a hundred hues of inky darkness, the sky filled with dark clouds.

There was a storm coming and it looked to be a fierce one.

It was a bad portent for the day. My sister slept, untroubled, her hair cast across the pillow in blonde waves. She smiled in her slumber, happy at last, and my heart ached at the sight of her.

Merlyn was right. It was time for all old secrets to be revealed, including the one I had clutched so close for so very long. I was resolved.

* * *

The earls and the king left Ravensmuir at midday, their pomp and retinue trailing somewhat more raggedly behind them than before. The men had all drunk long into the night in celebration of both Merlyn’s survival and the resolution of Ravensmuir’s future. Most had been slow to rise, and there had been a great deal of groaning and moaning. At least there were no concerns of having too little food on this day - most of the men had no taste for solid fare.

Merlyn was quiet, wary and watchful. Although I was nigh bursting to share the secret held tightly for so long, it was tale to be offered in private.

Mavella and Alasdair departed, Ada and Malcolm had already left for Kinfairlie. The squires lingered in the kitchen and there was no sign of Arnulf. I assumed he had gone with his kin, though wished I might have said farewell. I was restless, waiting for I knew not what, and impatient that Merlyn seemed so at ease with his circumstance.

The stone keep brooded all around us, the sea crashed upon the shore in the distance. Ravensmuir felt hollow, yet echoed with secrets and old crimes. I was chillingly aware of how vulnerable we were, that if the keep itself did not defend us, we would be lost.

I stared into the fire of the Yule log. Even though I stood close, the heat did not drive the chill from my bones. I closed my eyes as rain began to fall, cold and forceful. The wind wailed through the high windows, nothing but falling sheets of silver visible beyond it.

“You should hire knights,” I said as Merlyn poured himself another cup of wine.

He grimly shook his head. “There will not be time,
chère
.”

I shuddered. He would say no more, though, merely stretched his legs out toward the fire, his eyes narrowed as he stared into the flames. Another might have thought his mood grim, but I knew him well enough to know that he reviewed all he had seen and heard. He would wrest every nuance from his observations, and then he would choose his course. There is not so much impulsiveness in my spouse as he would have others believe.

I tapped my toe, never the most patient soul or the most accepting of inactivity. “What do you mean to do?”

Merlyn pursed his lips. “Wait.” He did appear inclined to do just that.

“Are you mad?” I asked in frustration. “Do you mean to simply sit here and wait for some vermin to murder you again?”

He watched me with undisguised amusement. “What do you suggest?”

“Hire knights and men-at-arms. Close the gates and post a watch. Secure alliances.” My voice faltered, for I knew little of such matters, knew little beyond the fact that I was not prepared to lose my spouse again. Tears clouded my vision and I looked away, sorely vexed with his scheme.

Merlyn’s smile faded and he leaned forward, touching my elbow with his fingertips. “None of that will deter this villain,” he said quietly. “It might only delay his assault.”

“And indefinite delay would not be all bad.”

My husband shook his head. I thought he would say no more, but he spoke with quiet vigor. “I want him to act while he is angered. I want him to think that he is unsuspected. I want him to move quickly, with no clear plan, so that his passion might betray him into making an error.” He met my gaze, his own eyes dark. “He must think then,
chère
, that I consider the matter resolved. He must think me confident in my own safety. He can only think that if I change nothing at all.”

“But you might be killed!”

Merlyn’s gaze turned steely. “I will not tolerate this threat tainting all the days of our lives,
chère
. The matter will be resolved, one way or the other, and that with all haste.”

“I do not wish to lose you.”

He smiled. “I have no intention of dying,
chère
.” He opened his arms and I sat upon his lap, my feet curled up beneath me and my head upon his shoulder. His arms closed around me and we shared the cup of wine, its heat keeping the chill of the day at bay. He leaned back in the chair and we watched the flames together. The hound had found a prize in the rushes and curled at Merlyn’s feet, the occasional sound of vigorous gnawing making us smile.

We curled together there and I told Merlyn all that had transpired in his absence.

He was most intrigued by Gawain’s claiming of the relic. “What did he say precisely?” he demanded and I recounted his brother’s words again.

“The
Titulus
.” Merlyn sighed.

“Did you know?”

“No. I knew that whatever the relic was, it had to be a piece of importance. I never guessed that my father had found such a prize. I wonder how it came into his possession.”