The Snow White Bride (23 page)

* * * * *

A
lexander looked after his wife in undisguised astonishment.

“Most women would welcome such a rich gift, as I have heard it told,” Malcolm said.

“I, too, would expect as much,” Alexander said, sensing that there was more to this matter than the refusal of a gift. Eleanor had panicked. He had seen the terror in her eyes, though he could not fathom the reason for it.

“I suppose her vigor is less astonishing if one knows of her fear,” Malcolm said.

“I am not certain that it is horses she fears,” Alexander said, then told his brother of her response the day before. Malcolm then shared his confusion. “I think we should choose one for her, despite this incident.”

“Perhaps she thinks the gift too generous,” Malcolm suggested. “Or does not dare to believe it possible that she could have a steed of her own. If she is fond of them, it might seem a lofty notion.”

“Indeed. She was at the window when you arrived, so she knows how fine the steeds are,” Alexander agreed. “Perhaps she dares not desire one, out of fear that she will be disappointed.”

“Have you disappointed your bride overmuch?” Malcolm teased.

Alexander had no chance to reply, for Isabella swept across the hall with no small indignation. “What have you done to your bride?” she demanded. “How could you make her cry so early in the day, Alexander? She is not so accustomed to your pranks as we are! And this after you have left her alone for two days and two nights. You are a churlish knave, to be sure.”

“I would merely grant her a gift,” he said, lifting his hands in appeal. “Is it not fitting for a man to bestow a gift upon his bride?” The company chuckled at his manner and settled back to their meal, though doubtless a good measure of the gossip in the hall was about the laird and his lady.

“She must not believe you,” Isabella said with authority. “Though goodness knows how she would have discerned already that you can be merciless in teasing another soul.”

“Perhaps she is uncommonly perceptive,” Malcolm jested, and Isabella gasped with delight at the sight of him.

“Malcolm! I did not realize that you were home!” She hastened to give him a hug, then beamed at her brothers. “You should have told us that he was coming,” she informed Alexander.

“I did not know. He has only just arrived, and I dared not send word to awaken you too soon. I suspected, after all, that you would sleep much later than this.”

Isabella’s affection for lingering abed was well-known and Malcolm laughed at th
is reminder. “Truly, are you Is
abella?” he said, stepping back to study the maiden in question. “You resemble her, to be sure, but I have never seen my sister Isabella before noon.”

Isabella swatted at his shoulder and missed.

“It is guilt keeping her awake,” Alexander said solemnly. “For she did try to kill me Christmas Eve.” Isabella gasped at this accusation and made to qualify it, but Malcolm granted her no chance to speak.

“Why did you wait so long?” he demanded of her. “We could have been rid of him years ago. It would have been so much simpler when we were younger.”

They all laughed at this, though Alexander spared a glance for the stairs. Would it make matters worse to pursue Eleanor, or should he leave her be? The fact remained that she had never yet shown so much emotion as she had over the prospect of being given a horse. He had a sense that the veil over one of her secrets had been disturbed.

And the best way, he was certain, to completely reveal that secret was to proceed along the same course.

“Isabella, would you be of aid to us?” he asked. “You are as tall as Eleanor. Would you help us choose a mare for her to have as her own?”

“You mean to give her a horse?” Isabella’s mouth fell open in her astonishment. Alexander would have wagered that there was no small measure of jealousy in her response. “For her very own?”

“One of Ravensmuir’s mares,” Malcolm contributed.

Isabella gaped at this apparent injustice. “But you have known her only a few days! You have known me for every day of my life. Alexander, you must grant a steed to me!”

“Every bride should have a nuptial gift,” Alexander said mildly. “Perhaps your husband, when you choose one, will grant you a steed as well.”

Isabella glowered at him. “You mean to incite me to choose a suitor hurriedly.”

Alexander shrugged. “If you delay, then you cannot blame me for making your choice for you.”

Isabella’s eyes flashed, but suddenly she regarded him with suspicion. “It is no small gift to give a woman a horse of this ilk. You have already given her a gem.”

“Every bride also has need of a ring to seal her vows,” Alexander said.

“You see?” Malcolm teased. “Marriage is not without its merit.”

“It is more than that.” Isabella’s eyes gleamed. “You
are
smitten with her!”

“I am not smitten,” Alexander argued, but they both laughed at him so merrily that it seemed churlish to dispute the matter further. There was a measure of truth in it, after all, for he was at least fascinated with his lady wife. “Come along, the two of you, let us choose a steed for my lady.” He made to march out of his hall, not waiting to see whether they followed him, but Anthony stepped into his course just before the portal.

“I would ask of you, my lord, whether the men in the stables would be staying for the midday meal.”

Alexander kept a smile on his lips, not wanting Malcolm to realize the full import of what he had asked of his elder brother. “Of course, Anthony. In fact, the party from Ravensmuir will remain at Kinfairlie indefinitely, while Malcolm himself will finger only through Epiphany.” Anthony’s shock was clear, which meant that it must be considerable. The older man was usually adept at hiding his thoughts.

Alexander spoke quickly, the better not to have Anthony’s doubts expressed. “There is fodder for the horses, which will also remain, at Ravensmuir, though the ostlers intend to collect it today.”

“But, my lord…
”

“It is Christmas, Anthony, and I am certain that our guests can be ably accommodated.” Alexander spoke with cheer.

The castellan drew himself up to his full height and looked Alexander in the eye. “Perhaps, my lord, you might spare a moment for the cook, that you might decide the meat to be served at the midday meal this day.”

There was not sufficient of it, Alexander knew as much already. He held his castellan’s gaze, relieved that
the older man seemed to have understood the situation. “It is the Feast of Holy Innocents this day, is it not?” The castellan nodded minutely. “And such a holy day is a fitting one for a measure of restraint. Please instruct the cook to bake bread with brown flour and ask of him to ascertain the quantity of fish at our disposal. I shall return shortly to review matters with him.”

“Of course, my lord.” Anthony bowed and Alexander strode out of the hall, willing his siblings to silence.

“I hate brown bread,” Isabella said with some vexation.

“It is better than none,” Malcolm retorted. “I welcome any morsel after these past months at Ravensmuir. The larder has been spare, to be sure.”

Isabella flushed. “You should have come sooner,” she chided, taking his elbow. “There is always food aplenty at Kinfairlie, that is one matter upon which we can all rely.” Alexander said nothing. To his relief, the matter was dropped, for they arrived at the stables and the horses of Ravensmuir, as always, drove all other concerns from his sister’s thoughts.

Indeed, they were magnificent beasts, and his own awe was no less considerable.

* * * * *

E
leanor took a shaking breath
and straightened after her uncharacteristic storm of tears. She heard footsteps and voices and looked out the solar window in time to see Alexander crossing the bailey with Malcolm and one of his sisters. The fiery red of the maiden’s hair and her height indicated that it was Isabella. It must have been Isabella who had passed Eleanor on the stairs. The three made their way to the stables, Alexander striding with such purpose that Eleanor was newly afraid of his intent.

She was tormented by how little she knew of him. She had trusted Millard, aft
er all, and he had not only com
mitted a foul crime, but had laid the blame for it at her feet. Eleanor would never forget it and so great was her revulsion that she feared the crime was to be repeated.

She needed to count the horses, now, before a single one of them could be removed from the stables.

Eleanor wiped away her tears and adjusted the circlet that held her veil fast. She straightened the sleeves of her kirtle and ensured that her garters were firmly fastened. She unlocked the portal, secured the key to her belt. She chose the edge of the stairs, where they were less likely to creak, and moved like a wraith down the stairs.

The latch upon the door to the chamber the sisters shared rattled just as Eleanor passed it. She scurried down the stairs, not wanting her mission to be witnessed. She was almost in the hall when she heard that wooden portal slam overhead, which only hastened her steps even more.

The hall was busy and she was disinclined to exchange pleasantries. She nodded and smiled at several men who bowed to her, then headed for the kitchen as if she had a duty there.

“My lady!” Anthony bowed so low at the sight of her that his brow fairly touched the floor. The cook, standing by his side, looked grim and inclined his head crisply in greeting. “Perhaps you can be of aid to us, my lady. The laird insists that the question of meat for the midday meal will be addressed when he returns from the stables.”

Eleanor’s heart clutched at this, though she strove to give no outward sign of her consternation.

“But the cook says the hour is late, and he would know his orders immediately if not sooner.”

“Of course,” Eleanor agreed, and the cook looked relieved. “I understand that we have guests this day?”

“Another twenty men arrived from Ravensmuir this very morning, including those already in the hall!” the cook said, his frustration clear. “There are only scraps of venison left. The laird has requested brown bread this day, which aids the matter mightily, but we cannot serve bread alone.”

“Have you fish?”

“
Two barrels of smoked fish, my lady. The laird suggested fish, but I had intended to serve these for Friday’s fast.”

“We shall fret about Friday on Friday,” she said crisply. “And it may well be a fast in truth. We shall have the bread and the smoked fish, fried if you can manage as much, for men who have traveled favor a hot meal in their bellies.”

“It can be done, my lady.”

“And we shall have a stew this evening, a thin one with a great deal of gravy. Have you any kale remaining in the garden?”

The cook grimaced. “It i
s not as fine as once it was…
”

“But it is there and it will do, especially with venison gravy.”

The cook beamed at this resolution. “I have a measure of butter yet, my lady, and the chives are yet growing, for
I have not cut them of late. The fish will be fare for a king, upon that you can rely.”

Eleanor smiled. “I thank you, and await them with anticipation.”

She turned away and Anthony was fast beside her. “I thank you, my lady, for your timely arrival and for your solution as well.”

“We have need of a party to ride to hunt this afternoon, Anthony,” she said, thinking only of ensuring there was sufficient meat for the board. “My laird has hunting grounds, of course?”

“Kinfairlie holds extensive lands, my lady, and its forests are abundant with wildlife.”

“Excellent. A hart or another large beast would be ideal, though even a wagonload of pheasants would be welcome. Whether the laird is occupied this day or not, might you see a hunting party arranged among his guests?”

Anthony frowned. “Few are noble, my lady, so few have the right to hunt.”

She granted him a stem glance. “It is a matter of seeing the board laden, Anthony. If the laird cannot lead the party, then you shall lead it. I do not care whether its members are noble or common: I care only that they return with sufficient meat for a hundred souls for at least two days.”

Anthony’s brow lifted. “But—”

“It is of no merit to a laird’s reputation to have no morsel to offer his guests, especially in this season. I trust that you will ensure our laird’s honor is upheld.”

Anthony bowed. “It shall be as you decree, my lady.” Whether he was surprised or pleased, Eleanor could not say, but he fixed her with a bright eye. “If I may suggest
as much, my lady, it is encouraging to note that you and the laird share similar views upon this matter. Just yesterday, my lord Alexander insisted that sufficient saffron grace the sauce, regardless of the cost.”

Eleanor smiled at that, and was reassured that her own advice was consistent with that of her spouse. “It is Christmas, Anthony.”

“Indeed, my lady, and blessings abound at Kinfairlie.”

Eleanor left the hall then and strode to the stables, the sweet scent of hay and horseflesh awakening a thousand memories. An ostler nodded to her there. He must have seen forty summers, thus must have been in a position of some authority, though Eleanor could not recall seeing him before.

“Begging your pardon, but you would be the lady of Kinfairlie, if I am not mistaken,” he said, and bowed with an awkwardness that indicated that he was not accustomed to encountering noblewomen.

“That I am.” A curious thrill tripped over Eleanor’s flesh as she claimed her title as Alexander’s wife for the first time. “I understand there are new horses arrived.” Dozens of horses peered over their stalls at the sound of voices, their ears flicking in curiosity. She could not see Alexander, though the stables were deeply shadowed in comparison to the bright morning sun.

“From Ravensmuir, my lady. I brought them.” He hesitated, his heavy hands twisting in indecision when she simply stood and stared at what she could see of the beasts. They were large horses, larger than any she had ridden before, larger than she had guessed from her solar window. They were beautiful beyond belief. “Would you like to see
the young ones?” he offered. “I
reckon as the laird has plans
for them, so you should see them sooner rather than later.”

Eleanor’s breath caught in fear again. “I will see them all,” she said with resolve. “Though I will see the foals first, if you please.”

The ostler ducked his head and turned, content to have a purpose, and led her to a large stall. “Mind your step,
my lady. They have not been in the stall for long, but one never knows. And two of the mares would have no part of being separated from the young ones, so the stall is crowded, to be sure.”

He opened the wooden door and Eleanor stepped just
over the threshold. The foals turned, curious, their eyes gleaming in the shadows. Their tails swished and one might have stepped closer, but a massive mare interceded. She placed herself between Eleanor and the foals with a decisive step. The mare sniffed Eleanor’s hands and her hair first. It was as if the horse meant to ensure her intent, and Eleanor held her breath. The perusal seemed to take overlong, and for a m
oment, she feared that the mare
somehow knew of her perfidy.

Did the steeds know of Blanchefleur, or worse, that
Eleanor had not had the wits to save that horse?

The mare abruptly snorted and tossed her head, then
bent to nibble Eleanor’s hair. Eleanor, overwhelmed, felt her knees weaken at this approval. She reached to scratch the horse’s nose.

At that, the foals eased closer, echoing the way the mare had sniffed her. Their coats were silken soft, their noses like the finest velvet, their haunches muscled. Even the foals were nigh as tall as she, though they must have
been born
the previous spring.

They were exquisitely beautiful, and though Eleanor ached to have one as her own, she dared not let any other soul witness her fondness for them. She had made that error once before and reluctantly lifted her hands away when she recalled the ostler’s presence. She was here only to complete her count.

But she had no chance to do so.

“What are you doing here?” Alexander demanded before she could turn. Eleanor’s heart sank like a stone. She composed her features so that none of her joy showed, then pivoted to confront him.

He stood beside the ostler, his frown surely one of confusion. “I thought you feared horses. Why would you enter the stall, then, no less do so alone?”

Eleanor met Alexander’s steady gaze, and for once in all her days, she did not know what to say.