The Snow White Bride (5 page)

“True enough, Matthew, though on this night, I am a miller.”

“Then you must dance, Father Malachy! You must dance all the night long!” Matthew looked around, avidly seeking someone to command. His gaze fell upon Eleanor. “And you must dance with the lord’s lady.”

“Ceara?”

“No, my lord Alexander’s lady.”

Father Malachy, in good humor, came to Eleanor and bowed low. “As you command, Lord M
atthew.” He winked at Eleanor. “
To dance with a courtesan will be a rare treat for me, indeed.” Doubtless he assumed that he would lead her in some courtly dance, but the minstrels immediately struck a bawdy tune.

“Everyone must dance!” Matthew cried. “It is Christmas, after all!”

The musicians sang a playful ditty about a sailor and a mermaid, a tune evidently well-known in these parts with words that left little to the imagination about the state of the happy couple’s intimate bliss. The priest was an artful
dancer and Eleanor found herself enjoying the quick steps and merry music. He turned her gracefully, as courteous as a man could be, and her worries eased yet more. Alexander’s hall was warm, his people were happy, his wine was good, and this was a night to celebrate.

They did not fear him. They trusted him. And so would she—for a single night.

More than one couple joined them in the dance, and one tune spilled into another. Soon the hall was rollicking. Eleanor found herself out of breath, but with no shortage of partners. Every man evidently wanted to dance with the courtesan—even the ostler in his apron. She caught only brief glimpses of Alexander as he circled the hall.

Eleanor danced as she had seldom danced, for the tunes were vigorous and the clapping of the company was infectious. She had no obligations, no man kept a censorious eye upon her, no one would later demand an accounting of her every step. Her cup was filled with wine at every opportunity, and the minstrels seemed to know a hundred tunes.

Matthew called commands from the high table all the while. In every direction, Eleanor could spy some folly. One man tried to balance a spoon upon his nose at the Lord of Misrule’s bidding, a feat complicated by his earlier consumption of ale. Another man tried to drink three tankards of ale in quick succession, his companions noisily trying to cheer him on. A plain maiden collected her due of a kiss from every man in the hall, blushing furiously all the while. It was harmless amusement, no malice in it at all, and Eleanor decided that Alexander had chosen his replacement well.

* * * * *

“
A
kiss!”
Matthew cried suddenly. “Every man must collect a kiss from his partner!” The ostler, in his apron, happened to be Eleanor’s partner in that moment, and truly, Eleanor had never kissed a man with both a thick mustache and two considerable loaves of bread as breasts.

In the end, it was not Anna’s comeuppance that made Eleanor smile, nor was it the dozens of acts of foolery being committed in Kinfairlie’s hall. It was not the ostler’s errant “breast,” not even when he had to crawl under the tables in pursuit of the one that had leapt free when he feigned a faint after her buss upon his cheek.

It was the expression of rapture upon Matthew’s face when Ceara gave him a quick kiss, full on the lips, that made Eleanor’s lips curve. The young man appeared to be stunned by this honor, while Ceara herself looked astonished at her own boldness. The pa
ir regarded each other so ardentl
y that Eleanor did not doubt that a courtship would soon begin.

“God bless my lord Alexander,” a woman said from close proximity. Eleanor spied Matthew’s mother not a trio of steps away, her gaze fixed upon her son.
“
There be a man with eyes in his head and the will to do something about what he sees. I thought Matthew would never so much as speak to that girl, so smitten is he with her, but my lord has seen the matter resolved.”

Eleanor felt her smile broaden. What a Christmas gift Alexander had given the miller’s son! She turned, seeking the man responsible, but did not need to look far. She felt his hand upon the back of her waist, heard his low voice behind her.

“If you will pardon my interruption, lady baker,” Alexander said to the ostler, who snorted with laughter. “I would claim your partner for her next dance.”

“By all means, my lord,” the ostler said in falsetto. “Though I have already collected her kiss.”

“Ah, it is a richer prize I seek,” Alexander said as he swung Eleanor into his arms and the dance began. “Is it true that you smile?”

“Indeed, your quest is won.” Eleanor studied him, for he looked both younger and more dangerous with his tabard gone and his hair rumpled. His chemise was of fine linen, but he might have been any charming rogue, not a man with a holding beneath his hand. Truly, it was a marvel how the man’s eyes sparkled.

“And the evening is yet young,” he mused with a wicked smile. “Do you imagine that your smile can be coaxed again?”

“On this night, in this hall, I would not wager against it
.
”

He grinned. “I will take that as a compliment to my hospitality.”

“It is Matthew’s hospitality on this night, I believe,” Eleanor corrected, and Alexander laughed. She sobered. “You granted him a fine gift this night. It was kind of you.”

Alexander shrugged. “His is a good heart, and one deserving of good fortune. I merely hastened his inevitable success.”

Eleanor liked that he did not insist upon gratitude for his deed. She liked that he had concern for his people, and that they trusted him as they did. His hand was not heavy upon them, and they relied upon his judgment, it was clear. She had erred when earlier she had suspected that they feared him, just as she had erred when she had assumed Alexander to be a man concerned with his own pleasures alone. She found herself less anxious to flee Kinfairlie’s hall in the morning.

“More wine?” one of Alexander’s sisters demanded suddenly from their side.

“Doubtless you recall Isabella,” he said, courteously and subtly reminding Eleanor which sister was which. She found herself smiling for him again. She had met his sisters so quickly that she did not doubt she would have confused their names.

“The next sister but one that Alexander must see wed,” Isabella said with a grimace.

“Not this night, at least,” he agreed amiably, ignoring her dark glance. “You could find yourself a suitable match in your time and I would be all the more merry for that
.
”

“Take your wine,” Isabella said, urging the cups upon them. “There is more in this one, Alexander, for you.”

“Ah, but Eleanor favors a good wine and has found this one amiable.” Alexander gallantly offered the glass that was more full to her, but Eleanor saw Isabella’s eyes light with alarm. The younger woman shook her head while her brother’s attention was diverted, and Eleanor guessed that the full glass was intended for him for some reason.

“I have indulged too much this night,” she said, a
nd accepted the less full cup. “
Take it, Alexander, lest it be wasted.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.” Eleanor watched Isabella as that girl nodded with relief. She wondered then what had been put in Alexander’s cup, but she did not have to wonder long.

Within three dances, the man was stumbling over his
own feet in a most alarming mann
er.

3

E
leanor followed the party that wound its way upward to the laird’s chamber of Kinfairlie, the sound of the festivities below carrying through the floor. Erik and Rhys fairly carried Alexander, the two men ensuring that the laird successfully made the climb to his bed. Madeline and Vivienne followed Eleanor and the other sisters trailed behind. Eleanor was more upset about the trick played upon Alexander than she might have expected.

“You could be of some aid,” Rhys grumbled to Alexander, who seemingly could not put one foot before the other.

Alexander made no reply.

“I doubt that he could be,” Eleanor noted, wondering at this potion they had come by. She hoped that no error had been made in its formulation.

“I hope whatsoever you gave him wears off quickly enough,” Erik said. “It felled him more quickly than might have been thought possible.”

“I, too, hope that you have not injured him,” Eleanor said.

“It is harmless enough,” Isabella said crisply. “Jeannie said as much.”

“A potion of any kind can be unreliable,” Rhys growled. “I have learned my lesson well enough in this.”

“But Jeannie is well-known to us and her skills with herbs are of wide repute.” Madeline laid a hand upon his arm. “Fear not, Rhys, for she can be trusted.”

Eleanor guessed that there had been some potion of dubious merit in their past, for Rhys was uncomfortable, indeed. It did not reassure her, for she shared his distrust of such elixirs.

“We could have ensured he slept some other way,” Rhys muttered.

“Aye, he is owed a blow or two from me,” Erik agreed, and the two warriors grinned at each other. Eleanor could not imagine that such a man as Alexander could be due any such thing. She hoped the pair made a jest, for they were formidable, indeed.

“Do not look so fearful,” Elizabeth bade Eleanor. “Alexander is hale enough.”

“And the potion will only make him sleep deeply through the morning,” Isabella added. “Jeannie assured me as much.”

They halted on a landing and Vivienne pushed past the trio of men, producing a key from within her skirts. She unlocked the portal and pushed open the door, standing aside so that Alexander could be carried into his chamber.

“I cannot rest,” Alexander mumbled, though his voice was so slurred that it was difficult to discern his words. “I have guests. I have a quest; I must ride the breadth of
Christendom to conquer ogres…”

Eleanor caught her breath, fearful of the way Alexander’s thoughts wandered. The men cast the laird of Kinfairlie none-too-gently into his own bed.

“Your guests will leave soon enough,” Rhys said.

“And you can pursue your quest on the morrow,” Erik added, but Alexander had fallen asleep.

His long limbs were sprawled across his own bed, his hair tousled and his face flushed ruddy from whatever had been in the wine. He looked young to Eleanor, yet alluring all the same. She could not keep herself from the side of the bed, could not resist the urge to lift his eyelid. He twitched when she did as much and with some effort she discerned that his pupil was small indeed.

The sight stilled her heart. Perhaps he had need of protection from his own kin.

“What was in your potion?” she demanded, but Isabella merely shrugged.

“Only Jeannie k
nows the secrets to her elixirs.
”

Eleanor laid her fingertips upon Alexander’s throat and was not reassured by the wild race of his pulse.

“I have never seen him so merry as he was this night,” Rhys noted.

“He was always thus,
before
.”
Elizabeth said. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at her sleeping brother. “Alexander was amusing once, before he became laird. This is the first time we have glimpsed him in a year.”

Erik laid a hand upon her shoulder. “He has many obligations in these days. You should have compassion for him, for the death of your parents was most difficult for him.”

Elizabeth grimaced. “I would have compassion if he were not so solemn all the time, and if he were not so
determined to be rid of all of us. He wants Kinfairlie all to himself, it seems!”

“You are old enough to wed,” Rhys dared to suggest, and the youngest of the Lammergeier family turned upon him in a fury.

“Maman and Papa waited to be wed!” Elizabeth cried. “They waited until they found each other, until they found a love that could not be denied! Maman was not auctioned, and she was not abducted, and she was not treated with indignity.”

Rhys captured Madeline’s hand when that sister made to speak. “But an auction can end well enough,” he said. Madeline smiled at him and eased closer. “Indeed, it
can.
”

Vivienne stepped to Erik’s side and he slipped his arm around her waist. “As can an abduction,” he said, sparing a smile for his spouse.

Vivienne leaned her cheek upon his chest. “That it
can.”

Eleanor was touched by the obvious affection between the two couples. Alexander had not done so badly in seeing these sisters married. Both of their spouses had holdings, both men were young and hale, and both sisters looked happy, indeed. She spared a glance for the man in the bed, who now had settled into a deep sleep, and thought he saw a poor reward for his efforts.

Elizabeth was clearly not so inclined to grant credit to her brother. “Just because the matches Alexander made for you ended fortuitously does not mean that the others will!” she argued. The heat of her anger revealed her fear. It was a fear with which Eleanor could sympathize, though she felt it misplaced in this instance.

“One might expect Fo
rtune to turn against him,” An
nelise suggested softly.

“Twice he has succeeded, against all reckoning,” Isabella contributed. The three younger sisters stood together, as unified in their posture as their attitude. “It defies belief that such a trend could continue.”

“Which is why we would see him wed himself,” Madeline said, her manner authoritative.

Vivienne grinned, the same mischief in her expression that Eleanor had glimpsed earlier in Alexander’s. “Marriage will keep him too occupied to force his will upon you three.”

Elizabeth nodded vigorously. “It will give him a taste of what he has rendered unto others.” She looked at Eleanor and nibbled at her lip with newfound doubt. “That is, if you still wish to wed him, after all you have witnessed this day.”

The entire group turned to Eleanor. She keenly understood their fears, for she had survived two poor marriages and feared that they were more common than happy ones.

But in truth, her sympathies lay with Alexander, a realization that made her doubt her own judgment. She had known the man but an evening, and already his charm and good looks persuaded her to take his side. Did he not appear to be too good to be true?

“Can you see their ribbons?” Madeline asked abruptly. She smiled at Eleanor’s evident confusion. “Elizabeth predicted the happy state of our marriages. She could see ribbons emanating from each of us, entwined with those of our spouses.”

“Elizabeth can see the fey,” Rhys said so solemnly that it could not be mockery. “She has a rare gift.”

Elizabeth snorted. “I can see nothing uncommon, not since Darg disappeared.” She met Eleanor’s inquiring gaze. “Darg was a spriggan, a fairy who abided with us for a while.”

“But she returned to Ravensmuir with Rosamunde
,
” Annelise said quietly, and a pal
l
settled over the small group.

“Neither of them returned from Ravensmuir,” Isabella told Eleanor.

“Ah,” she said, not knowing what else she should say. This was an uncommon family, to be sure. Perhaps there was a measure of madness in their veins.

“But that is not of import this night,” Madeline said with mustered cheer. “You have seen that Alexander is not so foul as you might have feared.”

“And you need not fear that he is frivolous. He is not usually as he was this night,” Annelise assured Eleanor.

“He is usually most sober and responsible,” Isabella added.

“Too
sober and responsible,” Elizabeth complained, though no one paid her much heed.

“He is courteous to women,” Vivienne said, “for our father would have suffered no less.”

“Kinfairlie, as you can see, is a fine holding,” Madeline contributed. “Though not as rich as many others, it is well-endowed.”

Eleanor started at this assurance. She studied again the faces of those who regarded her so expectantly and she saw that they had no inkling of how dire matters were for their family abode.

They did not know that Kinfairlie’s coffers were empty.

There was only one soul who could have protected them from that fact. Eleanor crossed the chamber to the bed and stared down at Alexander. This man who would have all believe that he was concerned with his own desires alone had shielded his siblings from a truth that would have shaken them all.

He had kept his secret for an entire year, even while struggling with the newfound burden of managing an estate and the grief of losing both parents suddenly. She again felt an admiration for Alexander Lammergeier— this man who had provided the nudge to begin a courtship between two shy souls in his village, out of kindness alone. There was more to him than a merry jest. He was protective of those reliant upon him, and she liked that.

Truly, he had a dangerous ability to soften her formidable defenses against all men. She bent and touched her fingertips to his throat, reassured that his pulse began to settle into a more normal rhythm already. Though Kinfairlie had not been her destination, she wondered whether some divine force had ensured that she come to Kinfairlie’s gates.

For against all expectation, Eleanor held the key to Kinfairlie’s salvation, though neither Alexander nor his kin knew it. That they had asked so little of her, even in ignorance that she could grant them so much, that they offered her this place in their family simply on the basis of her gender and compassion for a plight they knew little about, was astonishing. But they were a family. She had seen the affection between them, the comfort they had with each other, the ease with which each expressed fears and joys.

Eleanor had never belonged to such a family. She
looked at the watchful group again and found the younger sisters’ fear undisguised. They regarded her with a mix of hope and uncertainty. She knew that she could ensure that they wed well, as well as their sisters had.

But there was only one way she could manage as much, and that was as Alexander’s wife.

“I will stay at Kinfairlie and wed Alexander,” she said with sudden resolve, finding her voice more hoarse than she knew it to be. “I will keep our wager.”

To Eleanor’s astonishment, the three younger sisters cheered and spontaneously embraced her. She was momentarily disoriented by such a show of affection.

“This will end well, you can be certain of it,” Isabella said. “He likes you, we can see as much.”

“And you bring out the best in him,” Elizabeth added, squeezing Eleanor’s hand heartily. “He has not been so merry in a year.”

“We will do whatsoever we can to ensure that you are happy,” Annelise whispered against her shoulder, and Eleanor found tears rising to her eyes. They were virtual strangers to her, yet had shown her compassion and understanding.

And they had granted her a haven, with no understanding of how precious it was. She would not fail their trust.

“You must leave,” she said with resolve. “And take all of our garb, to ensure that Alexander has no doubts as to what has occurred this night.”

Madeline frowned. “But there will be no consummation this night. There cannot be
…
”
Rhys and Erik laughed and the younger maidens blushed.

“Give me a sharp knife,” El
eanor said. “
To cut one’s
finger is an old trick, but no less effective for all of that.” It was true that she had confessed to being twice widowed, but there was no guarantee that she was not still virginal. She guessed from what she had witnessed of Alexander that he would wed her promptly if he believed he had claimed her maidenhead.

She eased him aside, cut her finger, and let the blood drip onto the linens in the middle of the mattress.

The three younger sisters were dispatched then, and the men disrobed Alexander. Madeline and Vivienne shielded Eleanor from the men’s view as she discarded her own garb. The men left the chamber with averted gazes; then Eleanor was alone with the two elder sisters.

“He is a good man,” Madeline assured her, then kissed her cheek.

“So long as you do not deceive him, he will strive to make you happy,” Vivienne said, then kissed her other cheek.

Eleanor did not think it prudent to note that cutting her finger was a deceptive beginning to their match from any perspective.

“He will be fine on the morrow?” she asked.

Madeline chuckled. “He is as hale as an ox. This sleeping draft will leave him with no more than an aching head.”

“As if he had savored too much of the wine,” Vivienne agreed. “Do not fear for him.”