Susan King - [Celtic Nights 02] (19 page)

"Go on," Catherine said. "What then?"

"My father died fighting for freedom, and my mother entered a convent in her grief. We were taken in by her cousin, an abbot, and lived in his private house on the abbey grounds, not in the monastery itself. His sister, who is his housekeeper, lived with us there. My two older brothers had already gone to fight with the rebels, and are with them still. I have four brothers, two older and two younger than I," she added.

"How came you to be a guest in the king's court, if your family are Scottish rebels?" Eleanor asked curiously.

Gawain kept his attention on the hound by his knee, and Juliana's hands stilled on the kitten.

"She was a guest, Mama," Robin spoke up. "As I told you when I first came here, she was invited to the king's feast to represent the king's hope for an end to the Scottish war. She was dressed as a swan, in satin and feathers, and the king himself called her his Swan Maiden. Was she not beautiful, Gawain?"

"She took my breath, I swear it," Gawain murmured. That at least was the truth. He stroked the old dog's back.

"Swan? Oh, the pretty feather cap," Clarice said, nodding.

Gawain sighed and sat back, rubbing his hand across his chin. As much as he loved his good-hearted family, he knew they found the truth often too awkward to face. If Henry and Edmund had been there, they would have supported Robin's story.

His family preferred ideals and pretty versions of the truth and avoided complex emotional matters. He had seen the habit intensify in the years of his mother's illness. Henry in particular wanted to protect her and give her happiness, even if it meant disguising the truth.

The tendency had been there earlier, as well. His Scottish origins were rarely mentioned. As a boy he had been hurt by it, but he eventually understood. His mother wanted him to become a favored knight, and wanted no taint from his Scottish name and background. He also suspected that she still grieved for his father, whom she had loved deeply.

However, she loved Henry faithfully, and he adored her. He had provided a luxurious and privileged life, and had shielded his family well at Avenel.

If they wanted to embellish the truth about Juliana, Gawain would not correct them. In his own thinking, he never embroidered or denied any matter. The early influence of his Scottish father and kin left him with a hunger for honesty.

He glanced at Juliana. She had the quick-witted frankness of a Scot, which he found vastly refreshing and reliable. That was part of the draw he felt toward her. She would not understand the unspoken rules within the Avenel family.

But she seemed to sense them, for she had gone fluidly along with what was said and done around her. Although her delicate brows were lowered over sapphire eyes, she kept her thoughts, her temper—and the truth—to herself. Once again, he blessed her for it.

"Gawain, being my son, would of course be a perfect Swan Knight," Lady Clarice went on, still talking about the king's feast. "My family are De Bohuns, Juliana. Swans have been part of our family crest for generations. 'Tis said that long ago, one of our ancestors was a legendary Swan Knight named Helias."

Juliana looked at Gawain, wide-eyed. He shrugged a little sheepishly; the idea of the Swan Knight, years ago, had not come to him out of midair.

"We have a swan on the Lindsay crest as well," Juliana said. "Swans have lived on the loch between Elladoune and Inchfillan Abbey for longer than anyone can remember. There is an old legend about how they first appeared there."

"I would love to hear that tale," Eleanor said.

"Someday I shall tell you," Juliana said. "Lady Clarice, are you unwell?"

Gawain started, for his mother had lifted a hand to cover her face. She lowered it. "'Tis naught. I am sure the swans near your home are a lovely sight." Her voice sounded hollow. "Gawain... would enjoy seeing them." Her gaze met his and shifted away, and he knew that she was remembering a source of grief.

"My husband will certainly see the swans of Elladoune when we go home," Juliana said, smiling.

Bless her again, he thought, for doing this for his mother's sake. He reached out to touch her cheek. For a moment, the marriage between them felt real, and good, and no pretense at all. He could easily imagine loving her.

She tilted her head away from his touch in silence.

"I am tired, and will retire to my bed now," Lady Clarice said. "My daughters must go to bed too. Juliana, welcome again to our family. I can see how much my son loves you, and you him." Tears shone in her eyes. "It makes my heart glad."

Gawain took Juliana's hand and kissed it. She curled her fingers over his, warm and gentle.

"We are glad too," Catherine said. "But unhappy that we missed their wedding celebration."

"We will have a wedding celebration of our own!" Eleanor said, and beckoned to Catherine, who came close, then nodded.

"But we had a wonderful feast at supper," Lady Clarice said.

"Without the fun of a wedding—dancing, music, guests!" Catherine said. "Juliana is the first guest we have had here in a long while, other than Father's friends, who only want to discuss military policies." Eleanor nodded agreement.

"Juliana and I have traveled far, and are too tired for dancing, and too full for more feasting," Gawain said. "'Tis best to keep the household quiet for Mama's sake. Later, when she feels stronger, we will have music and dancing, if you like."

Eleanor folded her arms petulantly. "I think you should pay a forfeit, since you kept us from enjoying a celebration."

"And kept us from the king's court," Catherine added.

"What forfeit?" Gawain asked. "Shall I dance or sing, as they do in court?"

"You will regret that if you ask him," Robin said.

The twins laughed, and Eleanor looked inspired. "We shall follow you to the bedchamber with horns and drums, and flowers and candlelight, as they do on the night of a wedding! We shall put you to bed with great ceremony and noise to bless the union, and keep the evil spirits away!"

Gawain looked sourly at his sisters. "We have already had our first night," he said sternly.

"Gawain and Juliana are too weary for revelry," Lady Clarice said. "And you two do not need to witness a bedding," she added.

"Oh, Mama, we know all about such things! Listen to what the heroine says of Bevis—" Eleanor flipped through a few pages, ran her finger down, and began to read.

"Had I taken a young knight,

That was not bruised in war or fight,

As he is,

And would me love day and night,

Embracing and kissing with all his might,

And make for me bliss..."

"Oh, for such bliss!" Catherine cried, clasping her hands. "The joy of true love!"

"Aye," Eleanor echoed. "Gawain must forfeit kisses!" Catherine squealed in agreement. She and Eleanor grinned up at their eldest half brother.

Juliana, he saw then, was laughing, her face tucked against the kitten's snowy fur. Grousing for good effect, Gawain rose from his seat and bent to kiss first one and then the other giggling sister on the cheek.

"Nay, silly, not us," Eleanor said. "Kiss your bride!"

"Each time we say, you must kiss your bride!" Catherine said, nodding to Eleanor. "That is your forfeit!"

"You owe us this! We most heartfully wanted to see you wed," Eleanor insisted. "Mama said 'twould never happen, you know, but we were hopeful someone would find you pleasing."

Gawain saw Robin smother a grin behind his hand. His mother's eyes glowed with laughter. In the corner, Philippa chuckled as she sewed a seam.

Juliana smiled, her cheeks pink. He sighed dramatically and turned toward her, bending. She tipped her cheek and he kissed it chastely. She smelled of roses and lavender from her bath. Crazily, he wanted to linger.

"On the mouth, with all your might—just as the book says!" Catherine insisted.

"Make bliss for her, you silly oaf!" Eleanor crowed.

"Girls," Lady Clarice admonished.

"Oh, let him forfeit," Robin said. "Gawain owes his bride some courtesy, for I would wager that her hasty wedding—and what followed—did not suit a lady's dreams."

Gawain sent him a scathing look. He leaned toward Juliana again, meaning only to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head and his mouth met hers. After a dizzying instant of sweetness, he withdrew.

The girls applauded. He smiled, glad to see that his mother was laughing. He felt responsible, in part, for the sadness that had come to this family lately. None of them had laughed freely or well since Geoffrey had died.

Juliana, however, did not smile, but blushed and turned her attention to the white kitten.

"There," he told the twins. "You have had your forfeiture. Now go to bed, you two."

Catherine looked at Eleanor. "We shall demand more kisses on the morrow. A proper wedding would have days of merrymaking!"

"Aye, you owe us more celebrating," Eleanor told Gawain.

"And Lady Juliana needs more bliss," Catherine whispered loudly. This sent Eleanor into a giggling fit.

"Good night, daughters," Lady Clarice said. "Philippa, take them to find their maid, if you will."

Philippa rose from her seat, while the twins kissed their mother. Eleanor picked up the volume of Bevis, and the girls left the room whispering to each other.

"Those two," Gawain said, "are heartily spoiled."

"They are young," Lady Clarice said gently. "Let them have their joy. Too soon, life may take it from them." She stood. "Can someone help me to my bed?" she asked faintly. Gawain took a long stride forward, as did Robin.

"Let me help you, my lady," Juliana said, rising. She handed the white kitten to Gawain, then turned to Lady Clarice.

"My thanks, sweeting," his mother answered in acceptance, allowing Juliana to assist her. "Philippa will come back soon. Then you and Gawain should retire too. You must be very tired after your journey." Lady Clarice moved forward with Juliana and looked at her sons. "Robin, find a page and tell him to bring mulled wine for me, and some for Juliana. Gawain, your bride has dark circles under her eyes—'tis in part her fair complexion, but she is weary. See that she rests."

"I will, Mama," he said softly, opening the connecting door that led into his mother's bedchamber. Juliana guided the fragile lady through. "God be with."

He turned back to see Robin watching him. "Your bride is not so silent after all," he said. "So that mysterious silence of hers is a ruse?"

"Aye. But we Avenels are not unfamiliar with pretense."

Robin looked sheepish. "Father told me to tell our lady mother that Juliana was a guest of the king, and chosen for you as a favor. He did not think she would react well to the truth about your bride."

"I understand," Gawain said. He looked down at the kitten squirming playfully in his hands and scratched its tiny, snowy head gently. "I wonder if any of us will ever learn the full truth about my bride," he muttered half to himself.

"I will not tell anyone else that she speaks, if 'tis a secret," Robin said.

"Good. She wants it kept among us. She has her reasons, whatever they are."

"When you get to Scotland, you will learn them quick enough," Robin said. "Good night, then. I will have the wine sent up. Blessings to you on your wedding, brother," he added with a little smile. "Mother is pleased. And that is what matters most, is it not?"

Gawain lifted the kitten and looked into its wide-eyed, innocent stare. "Aye," he said softly, and chuckled as the kitten nuzzled his cheek.

"Look at that, yet another female who wants to forfeit a kiss from you," Robin said, laughing as he left the room.

Chapter 14

"She's abed, sir. Good night and God bless ye both," Philippa whispered as she slipped out of Gawain's bedchamber. She smiled and hurried down the hall.

He nodded in acknowledgment, having waited outside the chamber while Philippa had gone inside with Juliana to prepare her properly for bed. Now he pushed the door open.

Candlelight lent a deep glow to the red-curtained bed. Juliana sat propped on pillows and covered in scarlet brocade. She apparently wore nothing at all, for her slim shoulders and arms were bare, and her combed hair flowed down like a river of gold. The coverlet was drawn tightly over her chest, and her hands fiercely clutched the fabric. Her slender legs and feet barely made a hill under the coverlet.