6
T
he sky was darkening when Eleanor awakened in the great bed in Kinfairlie’s solar. She was confused for a moment, finding herself in an unfamiliar bed, wearing nothing but a ring that was a new weight upon her hand. Alexander dozed beside her, his hair tousled and a smile upon his lips. She indulged her impulse and pushed the thickness of his hair back from his brow, only to have his eyes open.
“It must have been the king of Jerusalem himself,” he said, his eyes glinting.
Eleanor smiled. He had begun a jest this afternoon of trying to guess who her first husband had been, though his suggestions had been whimsical from the outset. Had there ever been a man so determined to make her smile?
There had, she knew, never been one so successful in that quest.
“Of course not,” she said, feigning a ste
rn
manner. “There is no king of Jerusalem in these days.”
“Since when? No one told me of this travesty.” Alexander bent and kissed one of her nipples with diligence, as if the answer to political matters could be found upon her breast.
Eleanor laughed, then caught her breath as his tongue began to move against her flesh. The man could seduce a statue, it was clear. “It has been centuries since Saladin conquered Jerusalem.”
“Truly?” Alexander slipped his fingers between her thighs, showing no great interest in the history of the Latin Kingdoms. “Someone should have told me.”
“I have no doubt that you did not heed your tutor overly well.”
Alexander chuckled. “True enough.” Eleanor gasped when he conjured her passion anew, and did so readily. “Then perhaps your husband was the great poet Taliesin,” he mused, as if he were not awakening a fire beneath her flesh.
“Dead many a century,” Eleanor gasped.
“The knight Lancelot.”
“He was enamored of Guinevere.”
“Though the name of any wife he might have claimed is not recorded. And truly, would it not set a woman against men to be wed to a knight who so ardently courted another man’s wife?”
“I trust you will not do as much.”
“I intend to court only my own wife,” he said, granting her a simmering glance.
“She is soundly seduced, to be sure.”
Alexander grinned and stretched out beside her. His fingers still moved against her heat, making her squirm against him. He laced the fingers of his free hand with hers and held her hands over her head.
Such a pose struck terror into Eleanor’s heart, but she
fought against her instinctive desire to pull away. Alexander’s grip was loose, his manner was easy; indeed, he smiled at her. She struggled to control her breathing, to hide the fear that had seized her.
He watched her and she wondered what he saw, for he freed her hands without comment. His fingertips danced over the length of her, launching an army of delightful shivers in their wake, and when she smiled, his eyes began to dance anew.
That his pleasure came from granting her pleasure was a new notion to Eleanor, but one she liked well enough. She liked, too, that he granted her time to become accustomed to him.
“But my lady’s heart is more elusive than her satisfaction abed,” he said softly.
Eleanor caught her breath. “Her heart?”
He arched a brow. “What manner of knave would not seek his wife’s undying love?”
“Love?” Eleanor eased away from his caress. “Love has no place in a marriage,” she said with resolve, and his eyes narrowed.
“Do you intend to seek it outside of marriage, then?”
“No, no! But love is beyond expectation; indeed, beyond the desire of sensible men and women.”
She rose from the bed then and hastily donned her chemise. Alexander remained abed, remained nude, his eyes gleaming like those of a cat on the hunt.
Eleanor straightened, feeling somewhat defended from him with the sheer linen between them. “After all, pleasure and respect should suffice,” she said with a smile.
Alexander was clearly unpersuaded by this notion.
“Your husbands could not have been of much merit, if either of them persuaded you of such a notion.”
“It was my father who taught me thus.”
Alexander held her gaze and she knew she had found another matter about which he felt strongly. His eyes were a vibrant blue and he remained motionless. She felt the force of his will turned upon her, and knew he would not be readily convinced to change his thinking.
“It was my father who taught me that love wrought a good marriage,” he said, his voice silky.
Eleanor pivoted and reached for her kirtle.
“Where do you go?”
“You must be hungry. I will fetch a repast from the kitchen.”
“You need not do as much. Anthony can be summoned.”
“I need also to visit the latrine,” she lied. Alexander’s gaze flicked to the bucket left for that purpose, but he said nothing further.
He rolled from the bed with feline grace, then came to her side. “I would suggest that you see yourself garbed properly before you show yourself in the hall,” he teased, flicking a fingertip at her sides. She had fed the lace so quickly that the eyelets were not aligned and the sides of the kirtle were bunched.
Eleanor flushed, for she was never so clumsy, but Alexander smiled as he loosed the lace. He bent and touched his lips to her temple, whispering there. “It is not all bad that the prospect of abandoning your husband leaves you so discomfited.”
“It is not that!”
“Is it not?” He watched her, seeing too much for Eleanor’s taste.
She turned her back upon him, feeling discomfited, indeed. She combed her hair and donned her veil, but felt no more in command of the erratic pace of her heart than she had while nude. She was too aware of Alexander’s strong fingers as he fastened her laces with leisure, too aware of the heat of him close by her side, too aware of the pleasure he could conjure with a touch. She dared not forget how little she knew of him as yet, dared not forget that any man could show charm for days or weeks.
Millard had been charming for the better part of a year, after all. She caught her breath when Alexander caught her waist in his hands and closed her eyes against his unholy allure.
“I expect more from marriage, Eleanor,” he whispered to her. “You may have learned to expect less, but I expect more. I will win your heart, however reluctant it might be.”
Eleanor swallowed, fearing that he might well succeed. And what of her then? How impotent would she be once this man held her own heart in his hands?
She could not help but raise her gaze, for she felt the full weight of his attention, though she was unprepared for the bright blue of his eyes. She stared at him wordlessly, both terrified and exhilarated by what he promised; then he suddenly grinned and snapped his fingers.
“Prester John! That must have been your spouse, for he would have granted you a taste for foreign textiles.”
“He does not even exist!” Eleanor protested with an unwilling smile.
Alexander wagged a finger at her, his manner conspiratorial. “So they say, but it is all an elaborate ruse, to be sure.” He sidled close to her and dropped his voice. “Tell me, did he surrender to you any secrets for the making of
spare coin? I have heard that he could turn dross to gold and it must be said that I have an abundance of dross.” Though he was teasing, Eleanor knew she could be of aid in this matter.
“Charge higher tariffs upon goods coming and going,” she said crisply, her manner in such sharp contrast to his that Alexander blinked. “And higher fees for the justice in your legal courts. People have no quibble paying for advantage. Host a fair, albeit one at a princely tariff to you for allowing use of the land. Charge also for the use of the bridges and roads within your demesne, as well as the right to land at your port, if you have one. Command a tax upon indulgences, from silk to ale to silver, for the rich who can afford such goods can similarly afford a few pennies for the laird’s coffers.”
Alexander regarded her in astonishment. “How do you know about such matters?”
“My father taught me to read and to write and to tally, the better to ensure that I would never be cheated.” Eleanor straightened. “I kept the books of his household until I was wedded the first time.”
“He did not do this himself?”
“He traveled much.”
Alexander blinked. “But surely he had clerks?”
“He had me, and I sufficed.” She met his gaze, daring him to challenge her upon this matter, but Alexander only frowned. He looked as if he would ask another question, but Eleanor pivoted. “I had best go, before the cook leaves the kitchen.”
“Indeed,” Alexander said, his voice thoughtful. He donned his chausses, sparing more than one piercing look in her direction. He was too thoughtful, his gaze too assessing, and Eleanor was glad to step out of his chamber before he unfurled all of her secrets.
There was no doubt about it, Alexander saw too much. That he was determined to win her heart made her quicken her pace as she ran down the stairs. There was no chance of her ever loving her husband, no matter how handsome and charming he might be. Eleanor had sworn a pledge to that effect years before and she would not permit a mere day in the company of Alexander Lammergeier to change her thinking.
She had best muster her defenses, that he not discern too many of her secrets. And she had best make herself of use, for she already wishe
d desperately to remain in Kin
fairlie and she had nothing else beyond her own merit to offer its persuasive lord.
What better time than this moment to organize her lord’s hall and ensure its efficiency? She would dispatch a meal to Alexander and hope that he fell asleep before she returned to his chamber. He could have no complaint in her performing her duties, especially as they had met abed several times this day already.
Perfect.
* * * * *
F
or the duration of the evening, Isabella had sat with her sisters, embroidering a hanging for the hall that Annelise had designed, impatient to see her mission done. How long could Alexander and Eleanor spend locked in the solar? Isabella had looked around far more than her sisters, far more than those who lingered to drink and chat in the hall.
Finally Isabella saw Eleanor step into the hall. It was the moment she had awaited and she twitched with impatience for Eleanor to go to wherever she was destined to go.
She knew that she alone spied her new sister-in-law.
Indeed, Eleanor clung to the shadows, as if she wished to avoid notice. And why not—Eleanor’s shoes did not match and her cheeks were flushed. She had the look of a woman whose chemise was on backward. Isabella smiled, guessing that her brother was responsible for ruffling this woman who had appeared so unlikely to be ruffled.
Alexander had no small measure of charm, after all.
Isabella watched Eleanor covertly. As soon as Eleanor ascertained that she had not been noticed, she made for the kitchens and disappeared in the shadows of that corridor.
Of course, the new couple would both be hungry, for they had missed the evening meal. But because of his absence from the hall, there was a detail Alexander did not know about his new wife. Isabella knew that she was the one to surrender it to him, for she owed him more than one favor.
Here was her chance!
Isabella carefully slipped her needle into the tapestry and gave an elaborate yawn. “Oh, I am tired beyond belief,” she said, spa
ring a smile for her sisters. “I
think I must go to bed.”
“You simply wish to cease embroidering,” Elizabeth charged.
“I am tired because you snored all of last night,” Isabella retorted.
“I did not!” Elizabeth said.
“You dreamed deeply, Elizabeth, for even a nudge of my foot did not silence you,” Isabella said with a shake of her finger, then yawned again. “You know I have need of my sleep.”
“I doubt it was a gentle nudge,” Vivienne said with a smile.
Elizabeth’s expression turned mutinous. “You are lazy, that is all.”
“Do not be ridiculous,” Annelise chided softly. “Isabella has done twice the work of you.”
“It is not my fault that she is quick with a needle and I am not,” Elizabeth grumbled.
“But it is your fault that you are uncommonly sour of disposition of late,” Madeline commented. “What ails you, Elizabeth?”
“Nothing.” The youngest sister shut her mouth with resolve and bent over her work. The other sisters exchanged glances of concern, but Elizabeth ignored them with vigor.
Isabella left the group, more intent upon her mission than Elizabeth’s moods. As soon as she was out of sight of the hall, she raced up the stairs and climbed to the floor that was Alexander’s own. She rapped upon his door, encouraged by the line of light showing beneath the portal. “Alexander?”
“Enter, Isabella.”
“Are you decent?”
Alexander laughed, an echo of his old self. “I am garbed, if that is what you mean.”
Isabella pushed open the portal and halted at the sight of her brother bent over his books. He was disheveled, to
be sure, and his chemise was only partly laced, the sleeves pushed up to reveal the fading tan on his forearms. He leaned his weight upon his fists and surveyed his books with an uncommon avidity. He looked vital, as he had not in months. Isabella realized only in that moment how old and tired Alexander had looked in this past year, that he had been but a shadow of his former self.
A pang struck her as she realized the truth that Eleanor had uttered about Alexander’s burden, a truth to which they had all been blind.
“Are you truly my brother?” she asked, her tone cajoling. “For I know that he does not show any such fascination with his ledgers.”
Alexander grinned, the image of his old roguish self. “Eleanor granted me an idea, several ideas in fact.” He laid aside his quill with undisguised satisfaction. “They are good notions, to be sure. Whatever your intent, you have found me a treasure of a wife.” He then smiled at her with affection. “And are you truly my sister, Isabella? It is too early for her to consider retiring, for she is always the last to leave a celebration of any kind. Do not tell me that every soul is gone to bed so early on Christmas night?”
“Of course not.” Isabella crossed the threshold, her hands knotted together. “Eleanor was right. I owe you an apology, Alexander. I never guessed the potency of what Jeannie mixed and I never asked what she did. I should have taken more care.” The fear that she had felt when Eleanor told of the herb welled up within her now and her voice rose. “I never meant harm to you. You must believe me!”
Alexander immediately crossed the floor and embraced her. “I know, Isabella. There is no malice within you.”
“But something dire could have happened!”
“But it did not, and so the matter rests.”
“But you
…
”
“Are more hale than expected, it is clear.” He held her shoulders and gave her a stern look, much as their father would have done. She knew he would hear no more of it. “Now, I understand that you surrendered your silver ring to Ceara.”
Isabella
fidgeted. “It seemed the least I
might do to make amends.”
“It was kind of you and I regret that I have no ring with which to replace it.”
She touched his signet ring. “Except the one that I replaced.”
Alexander shook his head. “I mean to keep it on my hand from this day forward.”
“A good thing that is, for I do not have another silver ring.” They shared a smile and she touched his hand again. “It was kind of you, Alexander, to ensure that they two had the chance to speak.”
“Ah, well, I tired of Matthew sighing at the sky whenever I went past the mill,” he said with a wink. “As did his father, to be sure. That pair only needed a nudge to set them on their course.”
Characteristically, Alexander took little credit for what he had done, though he saw it as his obligation to do it.
Isabella looked down at the floor, uncertain how to begin. “I wanted you to know that Eleanor defended you boldly, just as a lady should defend her spouse, and that I regret that I never saw your side of matters.”
“Did she?” Alexander regarded her with interest.
“I did not realize how fortunate we are to be so at ease at Kinfairlie, not until she told of her own fate.”
His gaze sharpened. “And what was that?”
“She was wedded at twelve, against her will, to a man who had seen more than sixty summers!” Isabella could not contain her horror. “And he was cruel to her, of this I am certain.”
“And wed thence to Ewen Douglas,” Alexander mused. Isabella could not keep herself from grimacing. “No wonder she expects so little of men and marriage.”
“She must think you too good to be true,” Isabella teased, though her brother seemed to find the suggestion sobering.
“Possibly so.” Alexander crossed the chamber, clearly thinking, and Isabella was loath to interrupt him. He pivoted suddenly and fixed his gaze upon her, then smiled. “I would ask a favor of you, Isabella.”
“Anything!”
“Do not be quick to make a pledge without knowing what you promise,” he chided, just as their father had done. Isabella had always been too impetuous with a promise, so their father had always said.
“What then?”
“What I ask of you is simple: I would ask you to tell me if there is a man who claims your heart. Or even if there is one you yearn to meet, then tell me of it, and I shall see it done.”
She caught her breath. “Will you see me wed against my will?”
He regarded her, solemnity in his gaze. “You cannot remain at Kinfairlie forever,” he said gently. “Nor should
you desire to do so. Choose a spouse or I shall be compelled to choose one for you. It is my duty as your guardian.”
Isabella nodded, understanding the fullness of what he told her. “Is there a date by which you would wish me to
choose?”
Alexander spared a fleeting glance to his ledgers, a concerned glance that made Isabella’s blood chill. “Of
course not,” he said with that easy confidence she knew so well. Once such a tone from Alexander had disguised
a jest. Now she did not know what to make of it. He winked at her. “But know that you are young and lovely
and men are more readily enamored of youthful virgins.”
Isabella propped her hand on her hip, her ire rising in defense of her new sister-in-law. “Oh, does that mean that you will not love Eleanor, simply because she was wedded before and thus no longer virginal?”
“No!” Alexander’s smile broadened and he shook his
head. “No, I do not anticipate such a dire fate as that.” His
ol
d humor made his eyes sparkle.
“You did not come to the hall this afternoon,” she
ventured.
“No, we did not.” Alexander held her gaze unflinchingly,
Isabella, who had a fearsome curiosity about intimat
e
matters, dared to ask, though her cheeks burned with her audacity.
“I did not quite see what you did this morning
and I was wondering what exactly
…”
“And you should not have seen as much as
you did.”
He tut-tutted in mock disapproval, which would have reminded her more of Anthony if his eyes had not shone with such mischief. “A maidenly gaze should not fall upon some sights, Isabella Lammergeier.”
“But I am curious!”
“And your curiosity will be sated on your wedding night, as is right and good. Is that not sufficient incentive to choose a spouse?”
“You turn every detail to your objective!” Isabella said with a laugh; then they smiled at each other in understanding.
Anthony rapped on the portal, then pushed it open, halting on the threshold in surprise. He held a heavily burdened tray and his features were alight with something that might have been called joy on another face. Alexander and Isabella both fell silent.
“I beg your pardon, my lord, but I believed you to be alone.”
“Even you can err on occasion, Anthony,” Alexander said, and Isabella found herself smiling. Her brother winked at her, then held the door. The castellan crossed the chamber and fussed with laying out the meal, his manner indicating that he would not leave shortly.
He must have something to tell Alexander. Isabella excused herself and hastened to the chamber that the sisters shared, smiling all the while. Whatever complaints Alexander had had about his nuptials would seem to have been addressed, and his happiness ensured with Eleanor.
All Isabella had to do was consider all the men she had known, then decide which of them she wished to know better. Alexander spoke aright in one matter—there was a sole way to sate her curiosity about what happened abed between man and wife. Eleanor’s comments persuaded Isabella that it was time for her to know the truth.
T
hat old harridan Jeannie was lurking in the kitchens, muttering aspersions, her very presence driving Eleanor to do more and more. She had not intended to remain so long, but Jeannie’s comments pricked at Eleanor.
When Eleanor insisted that the last of the wine be saved for Alexander, Jeannie had cackled. “She means to have it for herself, just you wait and see.” The crone had made this accusation in an undertone that had carried to every ear.
When Eleanor discussed the replacement of the strewing herbs in the hall with the maids, Jeannie had muttered, “She means to ensure that I have no plants at my disposal, but she does not know the location of half of them.”
When Eleanor suggested various sauces for the venison, as the cook was clearly tired of endeavoring to fashion something new from the same ingredients, Jeannie snorted. “She will command your every gesture, just wait. We have found a harsher mistress than ever we had in a laird.”
Those in the kitchens became increasingly awkward, though Eleanor chose to ignore the older woman. She knew from her own experience that it was her public challenge that irked Jeannie. She had questioned Jeannie’s abilities—and rightly so, in her estimation—before the entire company. That could only lead to fewer souls at Jeannie’s door begging her aid.
Fewer souls pressing coin into Jeannie’s gnarled hands.
Eleanor’s suspicions were proved when she reviewed the inventory with the cook. “Mind she does not meddle with your stores!” Jeannie cried. “It is treacherous, indeed, that we have one so acquainted with poisons in our
laird’s own bed. Will any soul who is fool enough to defy her find himself dead?”
“You should not tolerate her nonsense,” the cook said gruffly.
“She is vexed and it is better that she speak of such vexation than act upon it,” Eleanor said.
“Do you mean to share your counsel at Kinfairlie?” the burly cook asked.
Eleanor nodded. “Such knowledge is better shared than veiled in secrecy. This is what I was taught. I will aid whosoever asks me for assistance.”