The Frost Maiden's Kiss (10 page)

Catriona looked down with haste, lest he take encouragement from a glance.

“We shall say that Rafael is in my debt,” the laird said with a significant look at his companion. Rafael grimaced at the reminder. “And he fares well enough, especially after the times we have seen together. There has been no time to hunt, Vivienne, much less to cook, not if the keep was to be completed by Midsummer.”

“Why such haste?” Laird Erik asked, giving voice to Catriona’s own question. “Mine own keep was built over years and continues to grow as necessary.”

“The masons will leave in but two days, on Saturday, and they have fared most well.”

“Because you drove them to it and paid more for them to work longer each day,” Rafael noted.

Catriona’s laird and lady exchanged a glance.

“A stone keep in half a year?” asked Laird Erik. “It is madness.”

“Do you fear an assault?” Lady Vivienne asked.

“Are you so rich as that?” Mairi asked, before she was hushed by her mother.

“Ravensmuir has always been coveted by others,” the laird replied tersely. “I would not see it lost now.”

Catriona sensed that this was but part of the truth. What did he suspect that he did not wish to share?

“So you would build it to be a more enticing target,” Laird Erik said with a shrug.

“I ensure that it can be defended,” the laird said, his eyes flashing.

“By whom?” the lady asked, wiping her fingers and putting down her napkin. “You do not even have a castellan, Malcolm, nor even a squire! A keep cannot be defended by two men!”

“Even with such experience as you must possess,” Laird Erik contributed.

“I would admit that my experience is of aid in this,” the Laird of Ravensmuir replied. “And I have no need of a squire.”

“No need!” Ruari protested, but fell silent with a glance from Laird Erik.

“We are accustomed to sleeping only in the company of those we trust,” Rafael said, his voice hard. “I would rather saddle my own steed, than risk the loyalty of a youth.”

There was a reminder that their trade was one in which men were assaulted and murdered in the night. Catriona risked a glance at the laird, only to find him watching her yet again. He saluted her with his cup, then drank deeply of the wine, his gaze so locked upon her that she could not look away. She felt a flush rise from her breasts and its heat suffuse her cheeks. When the laird lowered his cup, he smiled slightly at her, the first genuine smile she had seen upon his lips for all its subtlety.

God in heaven, but he was an alluring man.

She should pray that he never smile fully, for she might lose her wits. He looked kinder when he smiled, more like the man of honor she would have liked him to be.

Yet, if the laird meant to reassure her, his smile did just the opposite. Catriona feared the notion that could prompt such a look. Night was falling and she was as good as chattel so long as she slept in the laird’s abode. There was a sinister feel about Ravensmuir, one that made her feel it had been wrought to conceal secrets.

That was a whimsy borne of exhaustion. Catriona made to rise and gather the children, but the Laird of Ravensmuir halted her.

“Catriona. You sang most beautifully for the children this day. Might we entice you to sing for us again this evening?”

He was again so still that he might have been a hungry predator. Catriona recalled his reaction to the tale of True Thomas and wondered anew at it. He had initially appeared to be shocked at her suggestion that the Fae court must be nearby, and then had confirmed as much. She might have imagined that he had not expected her to know—but she had not expected him to believe the Fae were real. Catriona was not one to put much stock in old tales—they were entertainment for children—but the Laird of Ravensmuir was the last man she would have expected to insist otherwise.

It tempted her to confirm that she had not imagined the sight of his discomfiture.

“I could sing of Tam Lin,” she said and the girls clamored for the tale.

Lady Vivienne settled back against her husband’s side, smiling with pleasure. “I adore that story, Catriona, and you tell it so well.”

“There is no musician,” Laird Erik observed, evidently seeking to needle his host.

Catriona raised her hands and the girls echoed her gesture. She clapped a beat and they mimicked her, giving her sufficient accompaniment. Unlike these nobles, Catriona was accustomed to making do with less. She stood tall, hands clapping the beat, and sang.

“Janet has kilted her green kirtle,

a little above her knee.

And she has snooded her yellow hair,

a little above her bree.

And she is to her father’s hall,

as fast as she can be.

Four and twenty ladies fair

were playing at the ball.

And out then came the fair Janet,

one flower among them all.

Four and twenty ladies fair

were playing at the chess.

And out then came the fair Janet,

as green as any glass.”

The Laird of Ravensmuir leaned back, a gleam in his eye that made Catriona realize he had heard the tale. What amused him? That she sang of the Fae again? A bit too late, she recalled another detail of Janet that could not fail to draw attention to her own state. She lifted her chin, letting the laird see that she would not be embarrassed, and continued.

“Out then spake her father dear,

and he spake meek and mild.

‘And ever alas, sweet Janet,’ he says,

‘I think thou is with child.’”

Catriona felt herself flush as the laird sipped his wine, but she continued with vigor.

“‘If that I am with child, Father,

I must myself bear the blame.

There’s never a laird about your hand

shall get the babe’s name.

If my love were an earthly knight,

as he’s an elfin gray,

I would not give my own true love

for any lord that you claim.

The steed that my true love rides

is lighter than the wind;

With silver is he shod before,

with burning gold behind.’”

“Is that how they explain such situations in this land?” Rafael asked, laughter in his tone. “A babe with no evident father is the get of a Fae warrior in the night?”

“It is but a tale,” Vivienne retorted. She fired a look at him that should have silenced any man, but Rafael simply chuckled. Catriona, cheeks aflame, was unable to even glance at the Laird of Ravensmuir, so she sang, continuing Tam Lin’s confession.

“‘And once it fell upon a day,

a day most cold and foul,

when we were from hunting come,

that from my horse I fell.

The Queen of Faeries she caught me

and took me to her domain to dwell.

And pleasant is the Faerie land,

but, an eerie tale to tell,

Aye, at the end of seven years,

we pay a tithe to Hell.

I am so fair and full of flesh,

I fear it will be myself.’”

To Catriona’s surprise, the Laird of Ravensmuir jumped, dropping his cup and spilling his wine. He exchanged a glance with his comrade that was so quick she would not have seen it, had she not been standing before them. He excused himself and cleaned up the wine, his manner becoming grim afterward.

Clearly she had startled him, for he was not so besotted as that. She had noted that he had consumed little of the wine—indeed, she had worried about the portent of that.

Did he believe that this was more than a tale, as well?

Or did he fear that he himself was destined to burn in Hell? Catriona could readily imagine that, given what he must have done. She continued her song with vigor, disliking that she had soured his mood but hoping that might diminish his interest in her.

“‘But the night is Halloween, lady,

the morn is Hallowday.

Then win me, win me, as you will,

for well I want you to.

Just at the murk and midnight hour,

the Faerie folk will ride.

And they would their true love win,

at Miles Cross they must bide.’

‘But how shall I know thee, Tam Lin,

or how my true love know,

among so many uncouth knights,

the like I never saw?’”

Catriona glanced between Rafael and their host, thinking that there were not simply uncouth knights in the Fae’s wild ride.

Her disparaging glance appeared to improve the laird’s mood.

The girls could never let the next verse pass without singing along, and this night was no different.

“‘
Oh, first let pass the black, lady,

and then let pass the brown.

But quickly run to the milk-white steed,

and pull his rider down.

For I will ride the milk-white steed,

and always nearest the town.

Because I was an earthly knight,

they give me this renown.

My right hand will be gloved, my lady,

my left hand will be bare.

Cocked up shall my bonnet be,

and combed down shall be my hair.

And there be the clues I give thee,

no doubt I will be there.

They will turn me in your arms, my lady,

into an asp and adder.

But hold me fast and fear me not.

I am your babe’s father.

They will turn me to a bear so grim,

and then a lion bold.

But hold me fast, and fear me not,

as you shall love your child.

Again they will turn me in your arms,

to a red-hot rod of iron.

But hold me fast and fear me not,

I will do to you no harm.

And last they will turn me in your arms,

into the burning gleed.

Then throw me into well water,

Oh, throw me in with speed!

And then I will be your true love,

I will become a naked knight.

Then cover me with your green mantle,

and cover me out of sight.’”

Mairi and Astrid shivered with delight, nigh bouncing at their places at the board. “I would do as much for my true love,” Mairi said.

“As would I,” Astrid affirmed.

Catherine sucked her fist, worried as always that matters might go awry.

“What, if I might ask, is a gleed?” Rafael interjected.

“A burning coal,” the laird replied, then gestured to Catriona to continue. “Do not delay matters, Rafael, when little Catherine is so fearful that Janet will lose her knight.”

“Gloomy, gloomy was the night,

and cold was the moon’s glow,

As fair Janet in her green mantle

to Miles Cross did she go.

About the middle of the night,

she heard the bridles ring.

This lady was as glad at that

as any earthly thing.

First she let the black pass by,

and then she let the brown.

But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed,

and pulled the rider down.

So well Janet minded what he said

that young Tam Lin did win.

She covered him with her green mantle,

as blythe’s a bird in spring.

Out then spake the Queen of Faeries,

out of a bush of broom.

‘She who has gotten young Tam Lin,

has stolen a stately groom.’

Out then spake the Queen of Faeries,

and an angry woman was she.

‘Shame betide her ill far’d face,

and an ill death may she die,

For she’s taken away the bonniest knight,

in all my company.”

‘But had I known, Tam Lin,” she says,

‘what now this night I see,

I would have taken out thy two gray eyes,

and put in two eyes of tree.’”

The Laird of Ravensmuir was the first to put down his cup and applaud, the others joining quickly. Catriona found herself uncommonly flustered and knew it was only because his gaze dropped to her belly before returning to her eyes. She would not be cowed by such a man as this.

She straightened, holding his gaze with a boldness that seemed to surprise him. Indeed, she would show him that she was not his for the taking on this night of nights, even if she did sleep in his hall.

“Look how dark it is,” she said, hearing her own words fall in an uncharacteristic rush. She gestured to Catherine’s meal. “Finish that last bite now that Tam Lin is saved forever, so we can all retire.”