But Kaireen’s eyes followed him across the floor. He released Rebecca into the women’s line. After he turned, he waved for Kaireen to join him. She whipped her head back to face the table.
Her skin prickled. She bit her lip, suppressing the notion that she had been caught staring. She snatched a piece of duck and ate.
The baroness stood and Kaireen held onto the bench to keep from falling to the floor. The music changed twice while Kaireen was brooding, but she determined she would not turn around again. She would wait until the next song, and then retire. Therefore, he would know she was neither afraid nor interested in him.
Across the room, she heard Rebecca’s laughter. She wanted to scream and rip the girl’s wig off, exposing her. However, she remained in her seat, her back rigid.
She congratulated herself on her discipline, when Elva appeared from nowhere at her side.
“Must not let the night pass without a dance.” She pulled on Kaireen’s elbow.
“I have no wish to,” Kaireen protested.
Her voice fell on deaf ears, for Elva yanked her to stand.
Her handmaid pushed her forward. Kaireen’s slippers slid across the stone floor as she tried to dig in her heels.
“Stop, or I will have you locked in the stocks.” She turned her head to yell at her handmaid.
A male hand grasped her arm and escorted her through the line. Her attention shifted as she glared at a beaming Elva. She saw her handmaid skip from the hall.
Then Kaireen glanced at her partner.
Bram held her.
She tripped, but he steadied her. His hands were warm.
“Careful.” His dark sapphire eyes twinkled. She wondered if one could drown gazing up into their depths. “People will think you swoon for me.”
Her face heated with anger, she believed her skin colored purple. She stamped her foot on his boot, but he did not flinch. She tried to jerk away from his grip, but he held her firmly.
“Let me go.” She looked around for help, but everyone had given them a wide berth. They danced around the pair, smiling and nodding as if she and Bram were a happy couple. “’Tis my turn in the line again.”
“No.” He led her to the balcony.
Outside he released her, but blocked her path to re-enter the hall.
The music resonated around them. Leaning against the far wall, she crossed her arms. She was two feet away from him, but he was too close.
“I thought the air would clear your head.” He cocked his eyebrow, examining her.
“My head is fine, thank you.”
“Aye, and the rest of you is fine to look at too.” His thick dialect chased shivers through her.
Her hands smoothed her gown. She caught herself and stopped. At seeing his grin, her frown deepened. “I believe it’s improper for you to stare at a lady so.”
“Would you rather I stare at you on our wedding night?” She opened her mouth to speak, but he continued. “Whilst you are without clothes?”
“I assure you, sir, we will have no wedding night.” Her blush radiated from her chest and spread between her legs.
“You wish to wed during the day then?” He took a step closer. “Very well, daylight will be all the better to see you.”
Music and laughter from inside filtered through the night air. He strode toward her.
She braced for his advances, wondering if she had the strength to inflict enough pain to make him reconsider. Part of her wanting to run, the other part daring him closer in challenge. God’s toenails, how could she have forgotten her dagger?
A breath from her, he stopped. Her heart hammered in her chest.
His fingers brushed aside a strand of her auburn hair that had slipped from her braid.
The brief touch sent fire coursing through her. Afraid her legs would give way she leaned back against the wall. He did have a wonderful smile though, with full lips and small white scar that went from his lower lip to his chin.
If he kissed her, she would like nothing more than to bite through those lips leaving another scar far worse than the one he already bore. Or her dagger would have been enough to keep his lips at bay. Why had she forgotten it when Elva dressed her?
Best to make him leave, and soon. He watched her for what felt like an eternity.
“Sir, you take far too many liberties.” Her eyes darted behind him at the dancing. Rebecca craned her neck to see what they did outside the great hall unescorted. “Others…” Kaireen began, but she stopped seeing anger flare in his eyes.
“I take none.” His mouth firmed. “You are to be my wife. I take liberties with no one else.”
His voice stung her. He spun on his heel and left her gaping after him.
Chapter Two
Dawn colored the sky in oranges and pinks as Kaireen strode to the manor’s bathing chamber. Her father had invited many to stay the night, and Kaireen wanted to bathe before anyone woke, especially Bram. She smiled. Since she was a child, she was usually the first one awake.
The sun was rising, and there was plenty of time for her to bathe and dress before anyone stirred in their beds.
A fresh green gown and leine draped her left arm, her slippers in her hand. Her other hand carried a beeswax candle mounted on an iron candleholder.
The flame flickered across the corridor, elongating her shadow behind her.
She was grateful to bathe as often as she wished; daily if she desired. Ahead of her, she had sent Elva to prepare the bath. No doubt by now her handmaid had heated the water and filled one of the baths.
Inside the room, she set her candle on a wooden bench. Three huge barrels stood waiting. Six people could fit into each barrel.
As a child, she recollected her family often had guest join them for a public bath. Many families offered this hospitality. Her parent’s bathing room was in the middle of the keep, instead of near the kitchens as in other laird’s homes.
Kaireen saw steam rolling off the barrel next to her. She set her clean clothes on the bench next to the candle. With her finger, she tested the water. Perfect.
She shrugged from her robe and was about to remove her nightdress, when she heard a male voice behind her.
“The water may have cooled some, but I enjoy a hot bath.”
She whipped around.
Bram faced her with a towel tied around his waist, covering the lower half of him. His blond hair was wet and she watched the path of the water trail his muscular chest.
A scream choked her and she snatched her robe to shield her body from his vision.
“I hope to rid you of your shyness on our wedding day.” He chuckled. “We will have many baths together after we wed.”
“No. Take your leave or I will summon the guards to remove you.” She backed away, but her legs knocked against the bench.
Her iron candleholder wobbled. She dashed for the candle, catching the wick and snuffed the flame.
“Allow me.” His voice made her stomach flip, or maybe she was becoming ill.
She grabbed her candle holding the wick at arm’s length for him to light.
At his stare she tightened her hold on her robe. His hand brushed hers as he touched his flame to her candle.
As soon as her wick caught, she stepped back. The flame wavered, then straightened.
“Are you done? I would like to bathe in solitude and not with a heathen gawking at me.”
He stood a breath away from her. His presence sent shivers through her. Must be the earliness of the morning, she thought. Her mind had gone daft.
“Take your bath, my lady.” He waved an arm across the filled barrel ignoring her insult. “And at sunrise I will meet you in the courtyard.”
She huffed regaining her senses. “I am not some servant for you to order about.”
“If I do not have your promise you will meet me,”—his eyes twinkled with mischief—“then I will wait here while you bathe and dress. Then afterward, drag you outside.” His eyes challenged her to argue.
She
clenched her jaw, refusing to answer.
“I take your silence for your consent.” He bowed his head. “I will send Elva as escort when you have finished.” He drifted from the room.
Minutes passed as her ears strained for a sound, she checked the hallway, making sure he did not lurk about.
She disrobed and then stepped into the water. The scent of him carried in the bath beneath the lye and wood ash. With the fluid soap she washed as she grumbled that she did not care what he smelled like. She rushed through her bath—she could not relax. Every creak worried her of his return.
She stepped from the barrel and then dried. Instead of waiting for Elva, she threw on her leine and then her gown.
Swiftly Elva swept in, carrying a hazel twig, woolen cloth, and a silver comb in one hand, and a piece of red cloth in the other.
“Morning, my lady.” She handed her the stem. Her words sounded as if she sung her mistress a tune.
Kaireen snatched the twig, eyeing the silk as if it might leap from Elva’s arm and bite her. Without Elva telling her, she knew the material was a sample for her wedding dress. “Why did you not tell me he was here?”
“He is a handsome man, do you not think?” She laid the crimson material that was only the size of her arm across an empty bench. “The dye-makers did an excellent shade of red from the kermes. I will start work on your wedding gown today. Be finished by your wedding.”
“Answer me!”
“He bathed when I arrived to fill your bath.” She shrugged. “How was I to know he lingered?”
Kaireen huffed. But she held no doubt Elva told him she came to heat water for her mistress.
Maybe she had woken him so he could harass her.
As she cleaned her teeth with the hazel, Kaireen pondered how to be rid of him.
Then she wiped her teeth with the woolen cloth as Elva pulled the comb through her auburn hair. Her handmaid braided her hair in one long rope and secured the end with ribbons.
Sunlight peered through the arrow slits, filling the room. Kaireen stamped her feet into her slippers. She dipped her fingers into the rose oil and then pressed her damp fingers to the hollow of her throat.
Elva snuffed out the candle with her fingertips. She gathered her mistress’s sample for her wedding gown including the silver comb leaving the rest for the scullery maids to clean, and then ushered her outside to the courtyard where Bram waited.
Kaireen followed after Elva. Her mind raced as to how she might escape this. With her temper, the convent would not take her in. Maybe she could wed in secret to someone else beforehand, but she had found fault in her mind of any would be suitor.
Outside, she blinked adjusting to the light. Bram’s blond hair glowed in the sunlight. He wore blue hoses and a lighter shade overtunic. His leather belt held a sheathed sword. She flushed remembering the muscles she had seen there earlier.
Her handmaid curtsied to them both. She would serve as chaperone until another took her place.
They walked to the edge of the courtyard where a stone bench sat underneath an oak’s spreading limbs. The dark green leaves fluttered in the cool wind. Elva seated herself on the bench and set to work on embroidering the sample material with different designs to find one that Kaireen liked.
His smile warmed her, but she refused to smile back. Perhaps if he was not the believed spy, he was sent by the traitor to investigate their lands. Why else would he demand to see her lands so soon? An attack from there could be devastating as it would not be expected.
He held two pieces of toast. “Break your fast with me?”
“I would rather break fast with a kelpie, and take a drowning ride on its back to the depths of the River Shannon.”
“I can dunk you as easily, but you might need something to have the strength to fight me off.”
She huffed, but snatched one of the pieces he offered. While she nibbled, she refused to look up at him. They stood in silence eating. The wind shifted through the trees. Leaves rustled, hinting of autumn.
“Your father’s guards will escort us through your land.” His eyes focused on her face and she wondered why he stared at her so. “He says your dowry’s not far from here.”
Her land spread to the cliffs and met the pounding waves. Maybe luck would grace her and Bram would fall off the cliff and swim back to his land. “Since my lord father wishes, I will escort you.” Kaireen said.
He cocked his head to the side, examining her as if judging her motives.
But she simply smiled at him. The O’Neill clan lived south of her land. They did not take kindly to invaders. She would convince them not to kill him, but only to send him back to where he came from. Of course she would need to find an excuse to be away from her father’s guards long enough to get Bram close enough to the border. Perhaps a stroll in the woods? It would be easy to pretend she saw something in the distance, a child? She would come up with something, a distraction to get away long enough for her plan to work.
Kaireen ordered Elva to fetch their cloaks. As they waited they finished their toast. Kaireen stole glimpses of him. Aye, she thought, he was handsome to the eyes. Blond hair with strands of gold and copper filtered through the locks sweeping to his collar. Deep blue eyes contrasted with his skin darkened from the sea and sun.
He caught her stare and she jerked her head away, willing Elva to hurry.
After counting a hundred oak leaves, she saw Elva carrying their cloaks; heavy wool for Bram, and a black pile-weave for Kaireen.
They donned their cloaks. Another servant brought two saddled horses.
• • •
Across the rolling hills, Kaireen led him on horseback. Five of her father’s guards rode with them.
Side by side, she and Bram rode through the land. Bram spoke of his hopes in Ireland; hopes of raising a family, and plenty of land for farming. He would join his forces with her father’s as protection against raiders, both Viking and Irish. Squabbles among clansmen were often bloodier than Viking raids. She didn’t care that he would help defend against her enemies, not too long ago all would have considered him the adversary.
Unable to stop herself, she laughed as he described his first time riding a horse as a child. His facial antics brought tears to her eyes.
After two hours of riding they reached the border of her land and her father’s. Her manor stood on the other side of the rolling hill.
At the top of the hill, a cluster of elm trees rose in tight circle. Bram reined in his horse, glancing between the trees and where the manor stood.
“This mound is taller.” He scratched his chin. “Better defense, why not build the keep here?”
“Daoine Sidhe.” She dusted off her green gown. Looking at his puzzled expression, she knew he did not understand. “Fairies. Everyone knows.” She sighed. “A circle of trees or stones means Daoine Sidhe land.”
“What has that to do with anything?”
“Bad luck if you build on fairy land. They bring death.” She nodded her head. “Steal children, replace them with changelings.”
He stared at her like she was mad.
“Well, superstition, anyway. But no servant would enter a place built on Daoine Sidhe land, much less work there.”
He nodded, but she had the impression he thought the air had gone to her head.
Her father’s guards followed them as they continued. When she was eight summers, her father had built this manor for her. She was the only one of his daughters that he had given land and housing. The roof finished last year, and furniture added earlier in the spring. Her sister’s dowries were gold and jewels instead of land.
They dismounted, and Bram tethered their horses to a flowering bush. “It’s such a pleasant day, I thought we’d let the horses enjoy it as well.”
The guards waited outside sharing stories.
Inside, rushes swamped the stone floor. A scullery maid visited the manor once a week to clean and change the rushes. The frame shaped from wood and earthware. Steps, hearth, an
d floor carved from stone. They unfastened their cloaks, laying them across a stool in the kitchen.
She showed him through the kitchen, and behind a thick curtain to the private bath.
The sitting room branched from the hall and stairs rose in the corner.
“The bedchambers are upstairs.” She pointed.
“Lead the way, then, my lady.” He grinned.
His smile did not falter her resolve to be rid of him, instead she stomped each foot on the stone steps. She showed him the larger one first.
“Our room.” She waved her hand as she stood at the threshold.
He moved passed her and into the room. Surveying the goose-feathered mattress he turned back to her. “’Tis the first you admit we marry.”
“No. I said no such—”
He crossed the distance to her.
He pulled her in his embrace and she went rigid.
She opened her mouth to scream, but as she drew a breath his lips crushed hers. Tingles of warmth crept from inside her to the tips of her toes. Her mind raced, demanding she be free, while her traitorous body melted in his arms. She wished she had brought her dagger with her.
His kiss became gentle and sparked a craving inside her for more. His mouth opened, offering her to taste secrets within. She slackened against him as his tongue played across her lips, stroking them and numbing her thoughts.
He did not force his way further, but ended the kiss with her lips yearning for his.
Then he stepped back. She gasped, horrified. Her hands were clutching his hair and she jerked them away as if he scalded her.
“Your lips and eyes speak of your love.” He beamed at her frown. “Now I am sure of your passion for me.”
“No.” That was enough! He had overstepped his bounds with his prideful arrogant assumptions. “You are mistaken; I wish to never marry you.” She would not fall in love with him. No matter his handsome face. She must not allow herself to acknowledge that she liked it when he kissed her. How she wished to be rid of him and all the turmoil he caused. She would never be free if he became the laird over her.
Time After Time Page 74
