The other man’s eyes narrowed. “Have you checked your treasury since she slumbered in your chambers this past day?”
Malcolm turned coldly on his friend, even as his pulse quickened. He knew Catriona had noted the location of the treasury, and Rafael’s words made him realize how long she had been alone in the solar. He trusted her, and he knew it, but Rafael had a gift for finding a slight doubt and making it seem greater. “You risk much with such words.”
“No good ever came of wedding outside one’s own kind.”
“At least you acknowledge that some good can come of wedding at all.”
Rafael laughed. “Although most of that good can be had without the exchange of vows.” That man flung out a hand. “Fair enough: she is pretty. Bed her. Keep her as your whore. Ride her nightly for all I care, but wed her?”
“What is the difference?”
“All the difference in the world and you know it well. A whore can be sent from the gates without explanation. It is much harder to dispose of a wife.”
“If I need only one woman, I will have no need to dispose of her.”
“Recall that you know naught of this one, except that she wishes to know how to kill a man.” When Malcolm spun to face him in surprise, Rafael smiled. “Aye, I know it. The plump maid could not hold her silence to save her soul, particularly when the tale vexes her.” Malcolm turned away, knowing this was true of Vera. “Your new wife might slaughter you in your bed,” Rafael drawled, doubtless seeing that he had found a concern.
“While she would be unable to do as much if simply my whore?”
“No man of sense sleeps with a whore. But a wife!” Rafael ran his hand through his hair. “I cannot believe you would be so impulsive.”
“I cannot believe you care so much as this.”
“You know that this is a travesty.”
“I know that the vast majority of marriages are arrangements very similar to this.”
“She has no advantage to bring to you!”
“She has a son. I need a son. She needs protection. I have a keep. The exchange is both simple and rational.” He turned his back on his friend and glanced toward the stairs, fighting the urge to pace.
“She looks too much like Ursula.” Rafael’s words were low, uttered with such conviction that Malcolm stiffened.
“I do not know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean. This whim is not rational at all. It is wrought of sentiment, and it will turn bad.”
“I did not know that you could see the future.”
“Any man of sense could predict this one,” Rafael retorted.
“And what difference whether I sleep with a wife or a whore for the few nights remaining to me?” Malcolm demanded in frustration then changed the subject for he could guess the answer. A wife could claim his belongings, and one who learned to defend herself could foil Rafael’s ambitions for the contents of Malcolm’s treasury. “The masons will be paid at midday,” he said sternly to his comrade. “Should you not wish to witness the exchange of my wedding vows, you might ensure that a line is formed outside the hall in an orderly fashion.”
Rafael snorted and left the hall, finally abandoning Malcolm to his own thoughts. Malcolm did pace the hall several times, until he heard the women on the stairs and turned to await the lady he would take to wife.
* * *
Catriona awakened in the solar to find the other women already making preparations. Vera brought Avery to her again, just as she had several times during the night, and watched with approval while Catriona fed him.
“Your milk comes in now,” Vera said with satisfaction. “It is the best for him.”
“I would ask you to find a wet nurse, please, Vera,” Catriona said and the older woman eyed her in surprise. “I would prefer to feed him myself, but I would honor my lord husband with a son of his own blood with all speed.”
Vera beamed approval. “Now there is sound thinking.” She patted Catriona’s shoulder. “You only had need of a night’s sleep to find your sense.”
Catriona had assumed there would be tasks to prepare for the wedding and she was determined to do her part. But by the time she had coaxed some milk from her breasts for Avery and washed, the two ladies had been through Lady Vivienne’s belongings and chosen new garb for her for the day.
To Catriona’s surprise and delight, Lady Vivienne offered her a kirtle, as well as a chemise and stockings. Though none were new, and both chemise and kirtle were a bit too short, all were of better quality than Catriona’s best had ever been. The kirtle was blue, so dark a hue that Catriona knew the woad had been mixed with another bark. The hem and cuffs boasted a simple line of gold embroidery, an embellishment far beyond Catriona’s means.
“It will favor your coloring best,” Lady Vivienne declared. “And a woman must look her best upon her nuptial day.”
The ladies combed and braided Catriona’s hair, over her protest. It was most strange to have two noblewomen tend to her, while Vera rocked Avery to sleep. In addition, this conviviality over clothing was wondrous and new to Catriona. The two ladies chatted and reminisced, telling her of their own weddings and those of Vivienne’s other sisters. It was a marvel just to sit and to take pleasure in the tending of her person. She and her mother had always been in haste, needing to do one task or another, so to take one’s time in dressing seemed a strange luxury. It was clearly familiar to the ladies, though, and Catriona resolved to learn all she could from them.
She had to fulfill her husband’s expectations of his lady wife, after all.
Would she ever be able to call him by his name with ease?
Lady mine. His salute echoed in her ears, making her feel uncommonly flustered. His eyes had shone that vibrant green when he regarded her and his whisper was pitched to make her shiver. He had given her all she might have desired, had she been bold enough to wish for it, and asked only for more sons.
She would give him that and more.
Even better, her son had quieted in his arms, as if he would give his consent. And why not? The Laird of Ravensmuir had ensured that her son survived his birth. Indeed, the Laird of Ravensmuir had quickened her son in her womb, when she had thought the babe lost. Did he have magical powers, or had it simply been coincidence? There might be those to find such a talent unholy, but if her husband used his powers for the good of this son and others, Catriona could have no complaint. She resolved to do her utmost for her lord husband.
Perhaps she could convince him to remain out of the ruins, or convince him that no treasure he might find there was worth risking his own welfare. That was not a perspective she would expect of a mercenary, but the man she would wed defied expectation again and again.
His sister was uncommonly kind to her with these gifts. Catriona’s new stockings were thinner than any she had had before, and very pretty for that, although they would scarce be warm enough in winter. She still had trouble bending, though it struck her as wrong to have Lady Vivienne fasten her stockings and push on her own shoes. Though they were not fine, they fit as Lady Vivienne’s would not have done.
When the ladies pronounced themselves satisfied with the plaiting of her hair, having wound it around her head like a crown, Catriona felt like a woman transformed. The sides of the kirtle were loosely laced and a sheer veil placed upon her head. Lady Eleanor placed Lady Vivienne’s simplest circlet on Catriona’s head, smiling at the younger woman.
“You look like a princess, Catriona!” Lady Vivienne declared.
“All due to your generosity.” Catriona bowed low. “I thank you, my lady.”
“A woman needs a new kirtle for her wedding day,” Lady Vivienne said with a smile. “Although doubtless you will soon have finer ones.”
“This kirtle will always be special to me,” Catriona said, meaning every word.
“And you must call me Vivienne, now, for we are as sisters.”
“Yes, my lady,” Catriona agreed and all the women laughed together.
Vivi
enne gave Catriona’s fingers a squeeze in her excitement. “You will be Lady of Ravensmuir, Catriona!”
The prospect was daunting, for what Catriona knew of a noble’s life had been witnessed from the servant side, and she had never been in a hall as grand as Ravensmuir. She caught Lady Eleanor’s gaze upon her as she realized she might fail her lord spouse.
“Do you know much of running a household, Catriona?” Lady Eleanor asked, her manner cautious as if she feared to give offense.
Catriona shook her head and confessed the truth. “I know more of serving in one, and never one so fine as Ravensmuir will be. I would not disappoint my husband’s expectations, but truly, I might err without knowing why.”
“I would teach you, should you wish to learn.”
“I should be most grateful, Lady Eleanor,” Catriona said and meant every word.
Vivienne smiled. “I knew it! All will be right in the end, just as in the best tales. It is perfect! I am so glad of this match.” She kissed Catriona’s cheeks in turn and her generous nature nigh overwhelmed Catriona. “Welcome to our family.”
Eleanor smiled at Catriona and kissed her cheeks as well. “Know that you may ask assistance of me at any time.”
“I thank you both.”
Vera wiped away a tear, even as she rocked Avery. “A wedding, and a son with a family name. All comes right at Ravensmuir.”
“Would you like to have Vera remain with you a few days?” Eleanor offered. “It is good to have an extra pair of hands with a new babe in the hall.”
“If Vera would like to stay, I would certainly appreciate her assistance.”
“Of course, I will remain,” Vera said with real pleasure. “This boy, like all the Lammergeier children, could scarce manage his first weeks without me. There is a chamber between solar and stairs that I shall claim as nursery.” She gave a broad wink. “A newly wed couple must have their privacy.”
“Catriona has just borne a child, Vera,” Vivienne protested.
“There are other manners of intimacy,” the maid replied haughtily. “As I am certain you know yourself.”
Eleanor and Vivienne exchanged an amused glance.
“Yet here at Ravensmuir you would remain, while Ruari is finally at Kinfairlie,” Vivienne teased.
By the way the maid blushed, Catriona guessed that there was some fondness between the pair. “It is not so far as that!” Vera protested. “I am occupied with my lord Avery, but if Ruari wishes to speak with me, he can find his way to Ravensmuir well enough.” She lifted her chin. “I daresay Laird Malcolm would allow him to sleep in the stables.”
“I daresay he would,” Vivienne said, merriment making her eyes dance.
Eleanor meanwhile gave one last survey of Catriona’s finery, tweaking her veil so it hung more evenly. “It is a shame you do not have a gem,” she said, her tone philosophical. “It would be a fine touch on this day.”
Vivienne caught her breath and Catriona realized her talisman was a secret no longer. She reached into her chemise and withdrew the cross, letting it lay on the front of the kirtle.
“My mistake in that.” Eleanor murmured, her eyes widening in surprise.
“It was my mother’s,” Catriona explained. “I have kept it hidden because I always feared it might be stolen or lost.”
Vivienne smiled a little. “You could have sold it to ensure your comfort.”
Catriona’s fingers closed over it. “I could never do as much. It is all I have of my mother, and beyond price to me.”
Eleanor smiled and tucked her fingers into her own chemise. She withdrew a slightly larger cross, though hers was studded with amber. “This was my mother’s and hers before, and intended for me to wear on my wedding day.” She rubbed a thumb across the stones. “I understand your thinking, Catriona. I did not have this prize in my possession when Alexander and I exchanged our vows, but Alexander later retrieved it for me.”
And there was a tale, to be sure. Catriona noted the way color touched Eleanor’s cheeks when she spoke of that incident and the light in her eyes when she said her husband’s name. “It seems both brothers show much courtesy to women,” she ventured.
“It is what they were taught, plain and simple,” Eleanor said without hesitation. “I knew little good of men before coming to Kinfairlie that Christmas Eve, but truly Alexander and his kin changed my life.” She smiled at Catriona and Catriona smiled back at the older woman.
Indeed, it seemed they had more in common than a jeweled cross.
And so it was that Catriona descended to Ravensmuir’s new hall, filled with new hope for the future. She had been granted every gift by the grace of the man who would be her lord husband, and with Eleanor’s help, she hoped she would not fall short of his expectations.
The Laird of Ravensmuir waited for her before the one hearth where a fire had been lit. His white chemise made his tan look a richer gold, while his dark tabard and chausses showed how finely wrought he was. He had polished his tall dark boots and his hair was wet, his chin freshly shaved. His eyes gleamed with an anticipation that made Catriona’s heart skip. She dared to believe that all would come aright, that he was the man she hoped him to be, that their match could be a happy one, then strode forward to put her hand in his.
This ceremony and future was more, far more, than she had ever hoped to make her own, and she would not betray such opportunity.
* * *
Catriona had been transformed.
She truly did look to be a warrior queen. With her hair coiled up and a new kirtle, she was radiant to Malcolm. She smiled at him, her eyes shining, and the sight was enough to steal his breath away. He crossed the floor to take her hand. He lifted it to his lips, then stared.
For the cross he had taken from Ursula’s corpse sparkled on the breast of the lady he would take to wife.
Surely Rafael was not right.
Surely Catriona was not a thief.
Malcolm excused himself and darted to the solar, taking the stairs three at a time. He felt the surprise of the party he had left behind, but did not care. This secret he had to know before he made his wedding vows.
He unlocked his treasury with fearsome speed. He struck a tinder and lit the lantern left by the door, knowing exactly where to find what he sought.
All the while, his thoughts spun. He had never relinquished the key to anyone, not for a moment. There was solely one key. How could Catriona have entered the treasury without his knowledge?
She had slept in the solar and been left alone there on several occasions. Was the lock to the treasury simple to pick? He could not believe it. He had brought it with him from the Continent, had ordered it made precisely for this purpose. He had not given his name to the maker and had disguised his accent. No one, not even Rafael, had known his origin then. No one had followed him home.
But how could she have the gem?
He unearthed the box where the cross had been, recalling all too well the grief of Ursula’s father. Ulrik had insisted that Malcolm keep the talisman himself, for he could not bear to look upon it.
Malcolm opened the box with a savage gesture.
The cross was yet within. Half the length of his hand and studded with aquamarine gems, it had a cluster of amethysts around the middle. It was the identical twin of the one Catriona wore, even to the thickness of the gold chain.
Malcolm looked back at the door. He would never have believed there could be two such treasures in all the world, but he held the proof in his hand.
Catriona was no thief.
But neither was she a serving woman of humble origins. If the gem had not been stolen from another woman, if it was rightly her own, then he might not be wedding a common woman at all.
Yet again, Malcolm was left with more questions than answers when it came to Catriona’s past.
Yet again, she had proven his suspicions wrong.
Too late, he realized that he had abandoned her right before the planned exchange of their vows and that his deed co
uld be misinterpreted.
Malcolm reached into another box, knowing the trinket he sought, and contrived an explanation for his flight.
Then he returned the cross to the box where it had been these past years, extinguished the lantern, locked the door to his treasury, and returned to his wedding.
If anything, he was even more intrigued by the lady he would take to wife than he had been moments before. Who was Catriona in truth?
And how could Malcolm find out?
’Twas time, he decided, to write to Ulrik and tell him of his whereabouts.
* * *
What had she done?
Catriona watched in dismay as Malcolm’s expression changed, his admiration turning to a scowl more fierce than any she had ever seen. He dropped her hand as if there was something foul about her and took a step back. He excused himself and hastened up the stairs to the solar.
Just as she had feared, she had erred and she did not know why.
Much less how the mistake could be fixed.
Would this be the tune of her life from this day forth?
“What is amiss?” Vivienne asked, as all the women looked after Malcolm.
What had Catriona done?
What had she not done?
Catriona felt confusion ripple through the small group, followed quickly by dismay. Would Malcolm decline to wed her now? What of Avery? Would he spurn her son as well?
Mercifully, she had only moments to worry about the matter. In no time at all, Malcolm reappeared, his manner easy again. Whatever had vexed him had been dismissed. He strode toward her with purpose and bowed before her. “I do apologize for my hasty departure, Catriona,” he said. “At the sight of your gem, I realized my own omission.”
He held up a ring of gold, one set with a cluster of amethysts and garnets on one side.
“Every bride has need of a wedding ring,” he murmured, then took her hand in his again.
Vivienne laughed at his oversight and Eleanor smiled, but Catriona feared he told but half of the truth. He evaded her gaze a little too much for his explanation to be all of the tale. As relieved as he was that he was returned to her side and in good humor, she wished she might know the full truth.
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