Claire Delacroix (25 page)

Aileen cleared her throat. “It seems that Margery’s belly rounds, and not with fat. Is it your babe she carries?”

Reinhard colored even more deeply. “Aye, but...” He sputtered as he tried to explain himself, then fell silent.

Aileen straightened in disapproval. “You have got a child upon one of the laird’s vassals? I do not suppose that you have considered wedding her? Although many in this household seem to believe that men should take their pleasure where they would, and women should bear the consequences alone, I do not countenance this view. I expect better of the Hawk’s comrades, Reinhard.”

Reinhard appeared to be ashamed. “I would wed her... I understand your concerns, my lady... I believe...” He halted and swallowed forcibly. “It is impossible to wed Margery, thus I will not promise what I cannot see done. It is not honorable.”

“Yet it was honorable to get a child upon her?” Aileen demanded, outraged. “Are you wedded already?”

Nissa shook her head. “No, my lady. Reinhard means that it would dishonorable to make an offer of marriage unless there was a means to be wedded.”

“I would not pledge to her what I cannot see done,” Reinhard said, his manner vexed. “And without a priest to bless the match, what honorable offer can I make to her?”

Nissa leaned against the wall beside Reinhard with such a confident manner that the man looked both cornered and deeply suspicious of her motives. “Reinhard, what you have failed to understand is that we can aid you.”

The mercenary looked between the two women in surprise. Aileen kept her expression composed, even as she wondered at Nissa’s scheme.

“My lady has made it her task to ensure that a priest comes to live at Inverfyre,” Nissa confided, every word heavy with import. “I have no doubt that she will succeed, for we all have seen how our laird favors his lady’s will.”

“If there is a priest, we can be wed!” Reinhard‘s eyes widened. “I implore you, my lady, to make every effort to see this done.”

Nissa dropped her voice to a whisper. “Yet even if there is a priest, there are details to be observed, details that consume time. And it may take some weeks or even months for the laird to not only agree but to find a priest.”

Reinhard frowned even as he nodded woeful agreement.

“But imagine if our lady urged the priest to forgo the banns for your nuptials when he arrives? You and Margery might wed more hastily, perhaps even afore the child makes its first cry?”

“You would do this for me?” Reinhard demanded of Aileen, his excitement evident.

Aileen could not hold his gaze, for she was far less certain of her eventual success than Nissa. “There is not a decent soul in Christendom who would not return a favor willingly granted.” She pointedly hefted the basket of provisions for the prisoner.

Reinhard glanced from side to side, then nodded once, his decision made. “You will not utter a word of this visit to the Hawk.”

“Nor will you,” Aileen agreed with a smile.

“But I shall speak with Margery this very night. Her mother is most distressed with me and all will be relieved to know that matters can be resolved. I thank you, my lady. It was not my intent that our match should begin this way.”

“I shall do my best to ensure it continues more honorably,” Aileen vowed.

The mercenary bowed deeply, then stepped away from the barred portal. He struck a flint and lit a candle, leading the way down the stairs to Inverfyre’s cold dungeon. The darkness closed around the pair and Aileen clutched her basket even as she lifted the hem of her skirts.

Reinhard took a key from his belt, granting Aileen a stern glance as he turned it in the lock. “You have only to call if you need me. Recall, my lady, that he is dangerous.”

“You need not wait directly outside the cell for me,” Aileen said, her spirit quailing with the boldness of what she meant to do. “I shall summon you when I am prepared to leave.”

“But my lady...”

“No man would confide the weakness of an injury while in your presence, Reinhard, for all know you to be a warrior at the laird’s command. And Nissa will accompany me to ensure that no improprieties occur.”

Aileen granted the pair no time to argue with her choice. She ducked into the dungeon cell, Nissa on her heels, and confronted the man there as the door clanged shut behind them. He was young, sandy of hair and green of eye, and he was shackled to the wall. His forlorn expression brightened.

“And good day to you,” he said with astonishing cheer. “Am I dead then, that angels have come to visit me?”

* * *

Nigel Urquhart, Lord of Abernye, paced the Hawk’s, his agitation more than clear. He was armed as he had not been in his own hall, his hauberk falling to his knees, his helmet still under his arm. He was as large and burly a man as the Hawk recalled, red of face and round of chest.

The very sight of him awakened every possessive urge within the Hawk. He knew that he would have to be slaughtered himself afore he would willingly relinquish his wife.

Despite his suspicions of her.

How could Magnus have chosen to live without Anna, even if he had known her to be barren? The Hawk could not understand his forebear’s choice.

The Hawk advanced into the hall, shedding his gloves as he walked. He felt rather than saw that his cohorts had moved to secure the doors and had quietly surrounded the men accompanying Aileen’s father. This was a matter of some delicacy: he would not be challenged by another within his own hall, yet he did not wish to make an enemy of Aileen’s father. Beneath the watchful gazes of nearly hundred souls, the Hawk chose his course.

Abernye noted the moves of the Hawk’s men, his gaze flicking left and right. He met the Hawk’s gaze again and snorted under his breath. He had not exhibited such confident skepticism in his own hall, but then, his new wife had kept him upon a short rein. In her absence, he seemed more vigorously alive.

Indeed, he drew himself taller, then brandished a fist at the Hawk. “Where is my daughter?” he roared. “How dare you so insult my hospitality? I treated you as my guest!”

The Hawk refused to answer in kind lest matters grow more hostile. An angry man cannot make a fight alone.

He smiled slightly. “Against your daughter’s counsel, if I recall well enough. I thank you for teaching her well.”

Abernye reddened. “I will have redress for your insult...”

“Where is the insult?” the Hawk demanded. “I wedded your daughter before your own priest.”

The Hawk’s men smiled and put their hands upon the hilts of their blades. Abernye’s men belatedly realized that they were surrounded and tried to hide their dismay.

Abernye fumed. “Aileen did not come to this match willingly!”

“Surely, that was not your priest’s recollection. I distinctly recall that the lady agreed.” He indicated that his guest should be served a cup of wine. “I cannot imagine that your priest tells a falsehood about this matter.”

“My priest does not lie!” he thundered. “He knows well what she said and he knows well what little choice she had. It was nuptials or dishonor, two poor choices.” He pointed a shaking finger at the Hawk. “You soiled my daughter in my own home, sir, in my own lady’s chamber...”

At least, the consummation of their nuptials was not in doubt.

Thus far.

“Do you have proof of that?” the Hawk asked, nodding approval of the cask of wine his castellan would order to be opened.

“Of the deed, you left enough!”

“I confess to supplying evidence of the deed, but have you evidence of the location of the deed?” The Hawk slapped his gloves against his palm. “Or of your daughter’s disinterest in it? Perhaps she welcomed me.”

His guest glowered. “Do not cast aspersions upon my daughter’s character.”

“I would not dream of doing so base a deed. I simply acknowledge the force of passion between us, and would ask you to do the same.”

Abernye breathed heavily, no little discontent in his expression.

The Hawk smiled. “I intend no dishonor in admitting that the lady claimed my heart with a glance. You cannot argue that Aileen is a pearl, no less that she is now rightly set amidst finery.”

Abernye cast a covert glance around the hall, just as the Gregory, the castellan, paused before him, offering a cup of wine.

The Hawk accepted his own cup of wine. “And surely, you do not protest my disinterest in any dowry you might offer. I assure you that the lady’s charms are sufficient prize for me.”

Abernye sputtered. “You would insult me again by dismissing my charges...”

The Hawk spoke firmly, having no fear of using blunt speech to end this argument. “And surely you do not argue with my choice to make matters come aright by wedding the lady, once passion had had its due?”

“Still, you should not have...”

“And you should not have let your maiden daughter reach eighteen summers of age with neither suitor nor spouse,” the Hawk interrupted curtly. “You might consider yourself fortunate that I am not of more lawless character than I am.”

“That cannot be possible,” Abernye muttered and with this, finally, he provoked his host.

The Hawk cast down his gloves and crossed the floor to stand toe to toe with his guest. “Indeed? I could have taken her and abandoned her,” he retorted, his voice rising. “You could have had a soiled daughter to wed and no compense for my deed, and you know the truth of it well!” He dropped his voice when Abernye looked away. “You might have considered that it would be prudent to court my alliance, rather than make accusations against me in my own hall. Did you intend to coax me to reject your daughter now?”

Abernye straightened, eyes wide. “You would not!”

“No, I would not, but that says more of my character than of your strategy.” The Hawk pivoted and strode back across the hall.

“You rendered insult to my house,” Aileen’s father insisted.

“And now you offer insult to mine.” The Hawk indicated the cup still proffered by the patient Gregory to his guest. “Let us speak plainly. I resolved the matter of your daughter remaining unwed, did so in a manner that left no argument between us and cost you no coin. Indeed, I consider this matter most amiably concluded.”

Abernye eyed the cup, knowing that accepting it implied that he was the Hawk’s guest. As such, there were customary restraints upon his behavior in Inverfyre.

They were restraints that the Hawk had ignored at Abernye.

“It is a long ride from Abernye,” the Hawk said softly. “Surely you would like to quench your thirst? Surely we might put a matter poorly begun but happily ended behind us? Will you not raise a cup to your daughter’s newfound status?”

Abernye studied the hall with dissatisfaction, clearly noting that his men were outnumbered and older than the military men of Inverfyre. It was evident that the Hawk’s men were more accustomed to negotiating with their blades.

Abernye looked and considered, then accepted the cup. “Wound Aileen and I will kill you myself,” he muttered by way of salute, lifted the cup high, then drained it.

“I doubt you could,” the Hawk murmured as he sipped from his own cup.

The Hawk savored his wine while Abernye choked upon his.

It was an excellent wine, brought from the south by the Hawk’s parents the year before and certainly far finer than any swill that might have previously crossed the lips of Aileen’s father.

If nothing else, he had learned something of his father-in-law by this exchange. The Hawk could see how Abernye had found a wife when he had not been seeking one: the older man was impulsive in his speech, betrayed by his passions to poorly-wrought plans. He was much concerned with honor, so concerned that the tale the Hawk had concocted of the deflowering of Aileen might have actually been true of Abernye’s meeting with Blanche.

Blanche, who had seemed most cunning, would have perceived the man’s traits and used them against him to further her own ambitions.

The Hawk arched his brow as his guest recovered from his coughing.

“It is a fine wine you serve at Inverfyre,” the older man finally managed to say.

“Indeed.”

Abernye looked a third time at the hall, more leisurely in this perusal. There was a hearty blaze upon the hearth and the smells of roasting meat and fresh bread filled the air. The whores were young and alluring, and indeed, Guinevere winked boldly at the guest when his gaze fell upon her.

Abernye cleared his throat and met the Hawk’s gaze. “I visited Inverfyre as a squire, but I do not recall the hall being so rich.”

“The old timber hall was burned afore I was born,” the Hawk said. “And indeed, this is not the same site as that old Inverfyre.”

Abernye held out his cup to a serving girl, pragmatism taking the place of his annoyance. The wine had mellowed him, apparently, and made him realize that he could not have made a better match for his daughter. “It is poor luck to rebuild upon destruction,” he said with a nod, “for it makes the gods think a man above his place.”

“I apologize for the lack of adornment in the hall as yet,” the Hawk said. “But such are matters better suited to a woman’s eye.”

Abernye straightened. “I assume that you mean a lady’s eye.”

“Who else would have such authority than my lady wife?”

The older man looked again at the company of comely whores and his lips thinned. “Who else, indeed,” he muttered, then lifted a finger, belligerent again. “Your tower is tall and your walls long. Your horses black enough to be spawned from hell.”

“From Lucifer himself,” the Hawk jested, though none understood his reference to the stallion he had brought here from Sicily save Fernando and Sebastien. The Hawk sobered. “Surely you will agree that Inverfyre is a prize worth defending.”

His guest glared at him. “It has long been said that Satan himself has command of fathomless riches such as these you possess.”

The Hawk smiled coolly. “How sad, then, that Satan does not tithe to me. It is cursedly expensive to raise such walls as these.”

The company chuckled at this jest, though Aileen’s father did not.

The Hawk sobered, then closed the space between himself and his guest. “I assure you, Lord Abernye, that the richest prize in all of Inverfyre, if not in all of Christendom, is the lady so recently come to my side. Surely upon this matter, we can agree. Let us drink to the health of Lady Aileen of Inverfyre.”