Once again, Annalyse felt as if she were doing something naughty by standing here. Not just because of the traditions, but because her sister needed her and she was purposely stalling. Gabrielle, being the first-born twin, had experienced kisses under the mistletoe many times in her life and Annalyse decided now it was her turn. She couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Even though Gabrielle was heavy with child and her message sounded urgent, she would have to wait just a little longer.
“Och, my lady, I didna even see ye standin’ there.”
Annalyse’s eyes dropped from the kissing bough to see a Scot with a tankard in his hand heading in her direction. His broad chest was large and foreboding, while his hair boasted the color of the fiery hot flames of hell. Not that she’d know what the flames of hell looked like, since she’d been raised by nuns and attended church several times a day. If the nuns hadn’t been superstitious, they would have accepted her into the Order. But they didn’t want The Almighty scowling down at them for bringing a cursed second-born twin into their Order and so she remained an outcast even in the eyes of God.
The Scot’s craggy brows lifted and she saw a playful twinkle in his dangerous green eyes. Scots were to be feared and this one looked to be an abundance of trouble. He smiled at her. That told her he didn’t know who she was or he’d be keeping his distance. With a saffron leine half-open she could see the hairs on his chest peeking out from between the leather laces of his tunic. A dark green plaid wrapped around his waist and was thrown over one shoulder and pinned with a metal badge.
She didn’t dare even to breathe. Never had she ever been so close to one of these savages before and wondered if she were in danger. After all, the Scots were enemies of the English. What could this man possibly be doing in her father’s castle? Her gaze shot around the room as she desperately scanned the area, looking for her sister. Gabrielle was nowhere to be seen, only ladies and knights standing under more kissing boughs. The women giggled and the men pulled them into their arms and kissed them in front of everyone. This wasn’t what she expected to find at all and it would do naught to help her out of this awkward position.
“I suppose ye’re waitin’ for a kiss as well, my lady. Well, I willna disappoint ye.”
Before she had a chance to object, the Scotsman pulled her up against his chest with one hand while he cradled his drink in the other.
“I – I think you –” She never had a chance to finish her sentence because his mouth covered hers with a big, wet kiss.
It took her by surprise and she hadn’t even a moment to prepare for her first – and possibly only, kiss. It all happened so quickly that it took her breath away. She’d just been kissed by a total stranger and, surprisingly, she found that she liked it. It was exciting and intimate, and she could taste the burn of the whisky he’d been drinking as she ran her tongue over her lips.
“You didn’t even give me time to object,” she told him, wanting to sound like a respectable lady even if she had secretly been hoping for this to happen.
“Welcome, my lady,” said the Scot, taking her by the arm and escorting her into the great hall. “I’m sure ye’ve heard that to reject a kiss under the kissin’ bough will mean ye willna marry this year, so it is a guid thing ye didna object.”
“I’m sure I won’t marry this year or any year, so what does it matter?” She looked away and brushed invisible lint from her sleeve as they headed across the vast room.
“Dinna be so sure. Now that ye’ve had a kiss under the kissin’ bough, things will change.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.” While the room held warmth from the hearth and happiness in the lively decorated surroundings, she wasn’t greeted with a warm welcome from the people. The music from the gallery overhead stopped and the lull of voices quieted as all eyes focused on her.
“It’s the cursed one,” she heard a woman whisper. Then a few other muffled voices called her a demon and spawn of the devil. A searing heat rose within her. She held mixed emotions of wanting to shout out and run to wanting to sink into the shadows and hide all at the same time.
“Annalyse?” came a soft voice from behind her. She turned to see her twin sister heading across the room, being followed by their loving mother. Identical in every way, Annalyse and Gabrielle were tall with long, blond hair that fell halfway down their backs. Annalyse’s body was slim and lanky, but she had the right curves to prove to any man that she was not a girl but a woman. Gabrielle, on the other hand, had other curves. Her huge belly jutted out beneath her gown, proving to all she was the king’s pregnant mistress, and about to be an unwed mother. That alone should be enough to cause tongues to wag but, instead, the gossip would revolve around her now that she had arrived in Hetherpool.
Lady Ernestine, their mother, was a petite woman. There was no mistaking the girls had inherited their height from their father.
“Daughter, I’m so happy to see you.” Ernestine stepped forward and embraced Annalyse in a hug.
“Sister,” said Gabrielle, giving Annalyse a hug as well, but not being able to get as near because of her protruding belly. “I’m so glad you came to join us.” Gabrielle rubbed her bulge and her face said she was happy, but her eyes did not. Trouble darkened her blue orbs and Annalyse felt her sister’s pain in her own heart. Something was wrong.
“Well, I’m not glad you are here,” came the stern voice of her father, Lord Ramsay Granville, as he rushed across the hall with several of his knights trailing behind him. “Your presence at the castle will only cause me trouble.” His eyes darted back and forth, watching the reactions of the others. “You must leave anon.”
“And a warm welcome to you, too, Father,” Annalyse answered with a stiff upper lip. She would not be thrown out into the cold on Christmas Eve, no matter what her father ordered. “I will not leave as I am here as an invited guest.”
“A guest?” The man frowned, which made his peppered-grey mustache turn down at the ends. “I didn’t invite you.”
“Nay, but I did,” said Gabrielle, boldly reaching out and putting her arm around Annalyse. “I am about to give birth to the king’s bastard. And since I am not welcome at the king’s court right now, I would like to be surrounded by the people who care about me.”
“Not so loud,” said her father, dismissing his knights and pulling the girls to the side. The Scotsman followed. “Musicians, play something cheery and everyone celebrate as you were,” he ordered. The music started back up and though the occupants did as instructed and started dancing, their attention remained on Annalyse. “Daughter, you cannot stay. I’ll be cursed if you do,” said her father.
“Now, now, what kind of talk is that about yer own bairn?” asked the Scot, pushing his way in between them.
“It’s true,” said Lord Ramsay. “Annalyse, you know as well as I that your presence here will be considered naught but trouble. And when something bad happens, I’ll be blamed for it. Now go back to the abbey where you belong.” He reached around the Scot and took her arm, intending to drag her to the door, but she yanked out of his grip.
“Nay. It is Christmas, Father, and Gabrielle sent for me. I’ll not spend another holiday without my family and locked away in a nunnery where I surely don’t belong. Besides – you’ve got a cursed Highlander here, so why should it matter if I stay? He’s sure to be more trouble than me.”
“Lowlander,” the Scot corrected her, mumbling into his tankard as he raised it to his mouth.
“Don’t send her away,” begged her mother.
“The Scot is Ross of Clan Douglas and has been sent by the king himself, so he belongs here. You do not,” snapped her father.
“Aye, that’s right. The king sent me,” said the Scot with a nod of his head, raising the tankard once again.
“Why would you welcome this savage into your castle walls while you reject your own daughter?” she cried. “I am of your blood, but he is a Douglas! Father, are you insane to invite a Douglas into your home?”
The Scot’
s green eyes met hers over the rim of the tankard and he squinted as he slowly lowered the drinking vessel. “I am a respectable, honored man from Clan Douglas. Perhaps ye dinna ken of the revered and noble leaders that were from our clan such as Sir William the Bold and the Black Douglas. I assure ye, I may be a lot of things but I am no’ a savage,” he told her, sounding insulted that she had referred to him as such. “If I were, I hardly think yer king would send me here to make an alliance.”
“An alliance?” she asked in surprise, not understanding any of this. “Father, tell me this isn’t true!”
“It is,” her father murmured, his eyes traveling to Gabrielle’s big belly. “It’s not bad enough that your sister was a mistress of our king, but she now carries a bastard and is unwed. But there is a solution that will remedy that quickly.”
“Annalyse,” said Gabrielle, taking her hand. She felt her sister’s warmth and care, but wasn’t sure why a whore of the king would be accepted by all, but not her – a mere second-born twin who’d been raised by nuns. “King Edward has rejected me and no longer wants me as his mistress,” her sister explained.
“Nay!” she spat, horrified that her sister had gone from being in the king’s favor to being discarded so easily. “What of the king’s bastard child?” asked Annalyse. “What will become of him?”
“King Edward has rejected the babe as well,” Gabrielle said, running a hand over her extended midsection. “I honestly thought he would come for his bastard as soon as it was born, but the missive he sent said just the opposite.”
“This is terrible,” Annalyse murmured, knowing a soiled lady would never be accepted by any noble. Now Gabrielle would be unwanted, just like her.
“Your father did the only thing he could,” explained her mother with tears in her eyes. “Ross has not judged us like the English nobles.”
“He hasn’t?” Her eyes snapped up to interlock with the Scot’s. She couldn’t stop thinking about his kiss and wanted to experience it again. “What are you saying?”
“What yer mathair is tryin’ to say, my lady,” said the Scot with a nod of his head toward her sister. “Is that I’m betrothed to yer sister, Lady Gabrielle.”
“You are?” Her heart thumped in her chest and she felt as if, once again, being the second-born twin was working against her. Her sister, once mistress to the king himself, was now discarded and pregnant yet she wouldn’t be ostracized and rejected the way Annalyse had been for the last twenty years. Nay, now her lucky sister would be wife to a Lowland Scot and Annalyse would go back to the abbey alone, once again to live her life as naught more than an unwanted recluse.
DESTINY’S KISS
CHAPTER THREE
Ross surveyed the girls standing in front of him with interest. The two sisters looked so much alike that it was uncanny. Twins, he’d been told. Aye, they obviously were. Both had long blond tresses twisted into braids that trailed down their backs. And both had bright blue eyes that reminded him of a bird - intense and always watching. So clear and bright were their eyes that the fact alone made them unique from the rest of the lassies he’d seen. Not to mention they were both bonnie and a pleasure to gaze upon.
The girls were tall, but the pregnant one seemed meek. The one that looked like a nun was far from meek and had a fire about her that excited him. He’d enjoyed the kiss and wondered if the girl’s sister that he was to marry kissed with such passion, as well.
Chuckling inwardly, he thought of how alike yet different they were at the same time. One lassie was soiled and huge with a bairn, while the other looked to be pious the way she was covered up like a nun. He knew neither of them, but the kiss he’d shared with the cursed twin seemed like a blessing to him. Her lips were soft and sweet, and he’d tasted her innocence intermingling with a dormant spark of wild passion. Coming across as timid and reserved at first, he’d seen something entirely different when he’d gazed into her eyes. He’d seen a restless soul that needed to be released. Although he was already betrothed to her sister, he wanted to be the one to release the pent-up passion in the holy one.
“Lady Gabrielle, as yer betrothed, I’d like to have this dance with ye.” He gave his tankard to a serving boy and extended his hand to the pregnant twin. His plan with the faked alliance and betrothal was working perfectly, so far. The dowry the girl’s father was providing was more than substantial. Now his clan would be aligned with an English border lord as well, with the best part being that he would now be taking from the English king, instead of the king taking from him.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t dance,” Gabrielle said, pulling her hand back and rubbing her belly. He’d never seen a woman so huge during her pregnancy and realized it might be better if she just sat down, instead. The king’s baby was sure to be a giant and the Scots could always use another good-sized, strong warrior. Hopefully, he could move his plan along quickly, before the king found out what he’d done. If not, everything would be ruined. “Annalyse, please dance with Ross in my stead.”
“Me?” Annalyse’s eyes opened wide. Ross didn’t miss the way the frightened girl’s gaze darted over to her father. “I don’t think I’d better.”
“Nonsense,” said her mother, stepping forward, and guiding Annalyse toward him. “I want you to stay and celebrate Christmas with us. It has been too long and I miss you.”
“So do I,” chimed in Gabrielle.
“She’s not staying,” growled her father. “Or didn’t you hear me?”
“Lord Ramsay, if ye’d allow me to have just one dance with yer daughter, I’d be ever so grateful,” Ross said, eying the roomful of occupants who seemed to snub the girl. “I ken exactly how she must feel since it is no secret that most of the Englishmen here reject me, as well.”
“That will soon change for you since we now have an alliance between us,” snorted Lord Ramsay. The lord had not been happy when he’d read the king’s missive. Ross and his men entered into the castle’s walls just after the messenger left. It had worked to his advantage and no one was the wiser. The king’s seal was intact. The words on the parchment had not been questioned by anyone.
“Then mayhap if they see me dancin’ with the cursed twin, they’ll accept no’ just one – but both of yer daughters.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please, my lord,” begged Lady Ernestine, the man’s wife. “Let her stay. It’ll be good to have another woman present at the birth of your grandchild.”
“Grandchild? Ha!” said the lord. “I’ll never see my grandchild since the king plans on sending both my daughter and her baby across the border. Besides, we have a midwife and servants to help with the birth, so Annalyse is not needed.”
“Father, I want Annalyse by my side,” said Gabrielle. “I’m frightened and she knows what I’m feeling more than anyone since we often feel the same things.”
“Hush,” said her father. “Talk like that will only roil the crowd.”
“Please, Father, it is Christmastime,” begged Annalyse. “Besides, I’d like to stay and let the others see that it is naught but superstition that I am cursed. I want to prove to them that I will not bring bad luck upon the occupants of this castle.”
“I agree,” said Gabrielle. “Let her stay at least through the holidays and until I’ve birthed my baby.”
“Yer daughter could be an asset at a time like this,” said Ross. “With her here, it’ll free up more time for us to talk about another possible alliance between the Scots and English in the near future.”
Ramsay laughed. “Hah! If you’re suggesting any Scot would be addled enough to want to marry a cursed second-born twin, then mayhap we should talk after all.”
“I dinna see anything wrong with the lassie,” said Ross, managing to make the girl’s face turn a shade of bright red.
“Then by all means dance with her and I’ll give my knights another round of drinks to distract them.” The lord of the castle headed away through the crowd.
“My lady?” Ross
held his hand out to the girl, but she was hesitant in accepting his offer.
Annalyse stood petrified, not sure what to do. She should feel elated that her father decided to let her stay through the birth of her sister’s baby, but something about the whole situation didn’t feel right. This man was her sister’s betrothed and after the kiss they’d shared, she’d started fantasizing what it would be like if she were the one to be marrying the Scot, instead. Her upbringing in the convent made her feel ashamed of such a thought, but her rebellious side made her want to not only dance with the Scot but kiss him under the kissing bough again.
“I – I’m not sure,” she said, looking over to her sister. “Gabrielle, I came here to help you and I can see you are very uncomfortable.”
“I just need to sit down,” said Gabrielle. “In my condition, I can’t dance. I don’t want to disappoint my betrothed, so please go in my place.”
“Yes, I agree. Don’t worry; I will stay with Gabrielle,” said her mother. “Please dance with the Scot so the others won’t be suspicious of you, Annalyse.” Her mother smiled and ran a hand over Annalyse’s arm. “I’m happy you have returned to Hetherpool. I’m hoping your father will see that it is naught but superstition that you are ill luck and that he will let you stay here instead of going back to the nunnery.”
“Really?” Annalyse felt a knot forming in her throat and was too choked up to speak. Perhaps, once Gabrielle was married to the Scot and moved away over the border, Annalyse could take her place. She hated living in the abbey and had only wanted to live in the castle like she should have instead of being sent away in the first place. “All right, I’ll do it for you, Gabrielle.”
Annalyse hesitantly reached out, placing her hand on the Scot’s arm. He covered her hand with his as they walked and it was so large she felt as if she were being devoured.
Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas Page 92
