Claire Delacroix (71 page)

“I knew Heloise would have a finer tale,” Burke murmured. “Gilded sunlight,” he then mused, and cast a sidelong wink Alys’s way. “I shall have to recall that phrase.”

Alys had no doubt he would, though she would not consider further than that.

“For you see,” she continued, “my grandmother had died while Mother and Aunt were young. Heloise said that Isibeal was the only one who could entreat my grandfather to smile. He retreated to his chamber after his loss, and my mother persisted in visiting him each and every day. ’Twas six months before he emerged, another six before he smiled, by all accounts, and by then they two were inseparable.”

“How old was she?”

“I do not know. Eight or ten summers, by all accounts.”

“Then this is the root of your generous nature,” Burke mused.

Alys glanced to him in surprise.

“ ’Tis true, Alys,” he declared with a smile. “You grant the benefit of the doubt to all, you are loyal beyond expectation. Clearly your mother showed the same trait.”

Alys continued, feeling that Burke discerned overmuch in this tale. “When it came time for my mother to wed, my grandfather found no man in all of Ireland suitable for his beloved daughter. He was determined to find her a spouse beyond all others.

“So my grandfather dispatched her to the care of distant cousins in Paris and charged them to find her a suitable spouse.”
Alys bit her lip but could not stop the words. “Heloise said that Cedric was compelled to wed Aunt because he owed Grandfather a debt and no one else would have her.”

Burke laughed aloud. “I think I might like this Heloise.”

“Oh, she has a bitter tongue when she does not favor another, and she does not favor Aunt.”

Burke’s grin did not fade. “Then I quite definitely would enjoy her company. You must take me to visit her.”

Alys chose to ignore this suggestion. “So my mother was sent to Paris and introduced to all and sundry. ’Twas there she met Heloise. Heloise was nobly born, though the last of six sisters and at the bottom of her own father’s list of obligations. My mother knew little of fine Parisian manners, and in the course of Heloise’s instruction, they two became friends against all convention.

“ ’Twas at the king’s own court that Heloise says my mother met my father. My father was a knight, by Heloise’s telling, a chivalrous man though stern of bearing. Apparently he was so bent upon his business at the court that he scarce noticed they two. My mother, though, noted him immediately and brazenly introduced herself. She showed no fear of this man who was known to be a merciless warrior. Heloise says ’twas that audacity alone that snared his eye and her beauty that held it.

“And once he looked, Heloise insists, he could not look away.”

“Two more traits you gain from your mother,” Burke murmured. At Alys’s questioning glance, he smiled wryly. “A rare resolve and a beauty more compelling than might be believed.”

Alys felt herself flush. “You do it again!”

“Ah!” Burke smiled mischievously. “You are stubborn yet fetching, then.”

And Alys could not quell her certainty that she had preferred
his first, though more flamboyant, compliment. God in heaven, but the man had a way of addling her wits!

“At any rate,” she said primly, “my mother’s guardians thought little good of this match. It seemed the knight was a younger son and destined to inherit naught at all. Certain that my grandfather would eye any resulting match poorly, they tried to keep the pair apart, but to no avail. They met often, they courted secretly, Heloise said they fell in love.”

“Did he have a name?”

“It was never told to me.”

“They must have been intimate.”

Alys forced a smile. “ ’Tis how I came to be.”

“Indeed.” Burke searched her features and seemed to choose his words carefully. “Yet the knight’s suit was never accepted—it could not have been, if you are illegitimately born.”

Alys shook her head. “My mother came home in shame, pregnant and without a betrothed. Heloise said she met my grandfather while he was bellowing in rage. My mother insisted that her lover would follow and do the honorable deed of asking for her hand.”

Alys turned to look out over the ocean.

“He did not come,” Burke suggested with quiet compassion.

Alys shook her head. “Not a word came from him. My mother lived but a year after I was born. Heloise said that once I was weaned, she surrendered all will to live.”

Alys sighed when Burke said naught. “Heloise remained at Kiltorren, despite the fact that she had no family or friends here in my mother’s absence. She raised me as her own.”

Burke’s lips tightened. “She defended you in this household in your mother’s absence. What of your aunt’s version of events? You said ’twas less flattering.”

“Aunt always insisted that Isibeal was oft confused and readily deceived by the words of men. My mother was pretty
but simple, according to her tale, indeed even more simple than Brigid. My mother shamed herself, then she made up tales about my father.”

Burke’s eyes flashed in anger. “That is wicked nonsense to tell a child!”

“You do not know which tale is true!”

“I know that Deirdre holds a malice toward you, a malice that I have no doubt was born of your grandfather’s favor for Isibeal.”

“But …”

“But naught, Alys! By your own word, your aunt was wedded by compulsion, while only the finest would do for her favored sister! No wonder she is bitter—such a fate would vex even a woman born with a sweet nature.” He raised his brows. “And I heartily doubt that Deirdre ever suffered that affliction.”

“But, Burke, ’twould be like Heloise to change a tale to see me smile.”

“Because she loved your mother and was loyal to her friend’s memory,” he insisted. “Because she cherished the dream of her friend’s great love. Because she loved you and she wanted you to know the truth.”

Alys frowned. “But if my father truly loved my mother, why did he not follow her?”

Burke spread his hands. “There could be a thousand reasons …”

“Nay,” Alys declared forcefully. “There can be but one.” She pulled her hand from the warmth of Burke’s. “He used the lie of love to steal her maidenhead, then once he had had his due, he abandoned her and me.”

They reached the portal to the kitchen and paused. The knight studied Alys for a long moment, and she feared that he saw more than she would prefer he glimpse.

“And here is where you take your lesson,” he suggested quietly. “That a knight’s claim of love is not to be trusted.”

Alys lifted her chin. “I have the wits to make a better choice for myself than my mother did.”

But Burke shook his head. “Nay, Alys. All you will win upon this course, even with your wits about you, is solitude.” He smiled slowly. “Mercifully, I have taken it upon myself to persuade you that you are wrong.”

While Alys fought to find an argument to that, Burke bent and brushed his lips across her brow. ’Twas a measure of that man’s cursed charm that every word that fell from his lips made her doubt what she already knew.

To Alys’s mingled relief and disappointment, he did not press his advantage. She watched as Burke strolled to the stables, her thoughts churning and her brow tingling from his touch.

Burke turned in the portal of the stables. “Sleep well, my Alys,” he called softly. “I shall dream of you sleeping in my chemise.” And he kissed his fingertips, ducking into the stables with a wink.

Alys bit back her smile. The man had an impossible charm!

If only she knew whether to trust him.

But that, she feared, was not something she ever would know with certainty. Alys lifted her skirts and turned for her chamber, never guessing that she was not alone in the kitchen.

hen the sky lightened the next morn, Alys rolled over in the soft bed and sighed contentedly. Edana still slept on a pallet before the single coal glowing feebly in the brazier, as the first golden rays of sunlight slanted through the shutters.

But to Alys’s surprise, Brigid hovered on the threshold, the tangle of her dark auburn hair hanging loose over her shoulders. She was clad only in her chemise and looked on the verge of tears.

Alys swung out of bed in a heartbeat and crossed the cold floor. “Brigid, what is amiss?”

Edana started, even at Alys’s low tones, and jumped to her feet, hastily coaxing that coal to a flame. Brigid bit her lip and considered the two, her gaze finally meeting Alys’s again.

“M-m-mother said I c-c-could not call you again,” she admitted, her tears welling. “B-b-but my hair!” She touched the cascading tresses and her tears spilled. “W-who will help?”

Alys gathered her cousin into a tight hug and led her toward the bed. “Of course you can call me. You know I love to braid your hair.”

Brigid’s hair had a will of its own, its wild curls having no interest in being tamed. It was beautiful, thick and glossy, and Alys had never seen the like of its auburn color. But Brigid
was terribly self-conscious about the glory of her hair, thanks to Malvina’s jealousy.

Malvina called Brigid’s hair “witch’s tresses” in a cruel childhood taunt, demanding to know whether Brigid was a witch or perhaps a faerie changeling. Brigid had been horrified by the thought, but Malvina had compounded the damage by telling the ever-trusting Brigid of the havoc a witch could wreak by unbinding her hair.

Ever since, Brigid had been adamant that her hair be safely braided away at every moment of the day. Brigid was not the brightest soul, but she could be stubborn once she had hold of an idea—and it troubled her deeply to believe that she could in any way bring misfortune upon others.

She was so distraught this morn that Alys’s reassurance fell on deaf ears. “B-b-but Mother said …”

Alys stifled a rebellious condemnation of her aunt’s insensitivity. “Aunt is too cautious in this,” she counselled. “Have you brought your favorite comb? We shall quickly make some order of it all and have it safely braided away.”

“N-nay!” Brigid pulled herself from Alys’s embrace. “M-m-mother said nay!”

Alys took her cousin’s hands in hers and kept her voice low. “Brigid, you must heed me. If I do not braid your hair, who will do it?”

Brigid bit her lip, looked at Alys, and her tears fell. ’Twas clear she did not know the answer, and equally clear how much that troubled her.

Alys cursed her aunt silently, but turned a smile on Edana. “Brigid, do you know Edana from the village?”

Brigid eyed the girl solemnly while Edana bowed her head. “ ’Tis a great pleasure to meet you, milady.”

Twin spots of color lit Brigid’s cheeks, just to find herself the center of a maid’s attention. “Hello,” she mumbled, and gripped Alys’s hand more tightly.

Alys gave those cold fingers a squeeze and leaned closer to her cousin. “Aunt says that I am to teach Edana to be a fine lady’s maid. I could teach her to braid your hair, just the way you like it, and Aunt would surely find that fitting.”

Brigid’s whole countenance brightened. She even managed a small smile. “T-t-truly?”

“Truly! Would you like that?”

Brigid’s smile broadened and she looked shyly at Edana as she nodded. Alys put out her hand and Brigid slipped her favored comb onto Alys’s palm.

“Your hair is so lovely,” Edana declared with a characteristic smile. Brigid flushed, but the compliment obviously pleased her.

Alys showed Edana how to ease the comb through Brigid’s hair. “You must begin at the ends and progress slowly up each length, for it tangles terribly and will not be rushed into order.”

“Ooooh,” Edana whispered in awe as she took the first lock in her fingers. “ ’Tis so very soft!”

Brigid giggled, then blushed, but still she let Edana make order of her hair. She flicked a glance to Alys, then tentatively covered her cousin’s hand with her own. “C-c-can you talk to me again? Mother always s-s-said you had labor.”

Alys felt a pang of guilt. She wished that she had discerned Brigid’s loneliness sooner. ’Twas not easy for Brigid to talk to others, and there had been a time when she and Alys talked so often that Brigid’s stutter had begun to fade.

’Twas only now that Alys realized it had become worse again.

“All has changed now, Brigid.” She sat on the bed beside her cousin and took her hand. “We shall talk as once we did, and perhaps once more you will grow less shy.”

Brigid slanted a surprisingly knowing glance Alys’s way. “And perhaps my st-st-stutter will go away again.”

“Perhaps.” Alys smiled encouragement. “ ’Tis a matter of practice, and you know, ’tis worse when you are afraid.”

Brigid nodded solemnly, then bestowed a sudden sunny smile on Alys. “I am g-g-glad that B-B-Burke came back again.”

Alys did not understand the connection and her puzzlement must have shown, for Brigid tapped one finger on their interlaced hands. “H-h-he made Mother let you b-b-be here.” She deliberately took a deep breath while Alys accepted her cousin’s endorsement of Burke’s deeds.

But Brigid’s next words stole Alys’s breath away.

“I liked him b-b-both times he came before.”

Alys blinked, but Brigid smiled. Surely there must be a mistake! “
Both
times he came before?”