The Rose Red Bride JK2

by Claire Delacroix

  Erik liked that Vivienne was unafraid to acknowledge her guilt, that she apologized for her error with such ease. Though she flushed with embarrassment, still she met his gaze steadily. Her sheltered upbringing had given her a confidence that would serve her well in any circumstance.

  “How could you have anticipated what you have never known before?” he asked, unwilling to condemn her for a miscalculation, even one that had roused a clamor in his hip. “Your family’s abode is hardly typical of what mine was, even in its finest hour.”

  She nodded, so contrite that he felt a cur for having been irked with her even momentarily. “I never even guessed,” she said quietly, then sighed. “And my mother used to tell me that I was keen of wit.”

  There was little Erik could say to that. Vivienne rose then, and fetched the spilled contents of one saddlebag, which had evidently not been fully fastened. The provisions had been in that bag, though he did not tell her to leave the bread and the cheese in the dust. They might find themselves hungry enough to want it all the same.

  He wondered whether Vivienne’s ability to accept radical changes in her situation would extend to eating food adorned with dirt. He hoped they did not have to find out.

  Erik took advantage of her averted gaze to stretch his leg cautiously. He winced at the vigorous stab of pain which resulted.

  “You are injured!” Vivienne said, glancing over her shoulder in precisely the wrong moment.

  “No more than a bruise.”

  She looked skeptical in her turn, propping one hand upon her hip as she surveyed him sternly. “Then it will be a large one, I would wager.”

  “You will find no one to wager the opposite in this company,” he muttered.

  “You should not have taken the brunt of our fall, not upon that hip.”

  It had been quite some time since a woman had cared sufficiently about Erik to scold him, and he found himself enjoying their exchange. “In truth, I had no plan to do as much, just as I had no plan to leave the saddle in such a manner,” he said and was rewarded by Vivienne’s laughter. “That was no jest.” He granted her a grim look, and she merely smiled, so undaunted was she by his expression.

  “There is no need to glower at me,” she said. “You cannot disguise from me that you have noble impulses, much less that gallantry had you ensuring I felt no injury as a result of my own folly. No woman of sense condemns a man for his chivalry, though she might remind such a man that a body can bear only so much.” With that, she returned to her task of gathering the scattered goods.

  Erik blinked. It had been long indeed since anyone had thought him chivalrous, longer still since he had been credited with noble impulses. He watched Vivienne, discomfited that she had glimpsed secrets he thought hidden, and wary of her expectations all the same.

  Mercifully, he heard a horse’s hoof beats approaching in that very moment and was spared the need to consider the matter further. He pivoted to find Fafnir trotting back toward him. The horse had run in a large circle and now returned from the opposite direction, albeit at a much slower pace. The destrier halted half a dozen steps away and regarded Erik with seeming puzzlement, then lowered his head as if in apology as he slowly came closer.

  “He looks so surprised!” Vivienne said.

  “As if he had naught to do with our not being in the saddle any longer,” Erik grumbled.

  Fafnir sniffed Erik, seeming confused that he was no longer sprawled upon the ground. Apparently reassured to have found his errant rider, the destrier nibbled on Erik’s hair. Fafnir nosed in Erik’s collar with shameless enthusiasm, as if Erik were inclined to carry apples in his chemise.

  Vivienne laughed. She buffed an apple retrieved from the ground, then came closer to offer it to the horse.

  “He needs no reward for throwing us,” Erik said.

  Vivienne was undeterred by his gruff manner. “He deserves one for returning to us.” She rubbed the beast’s nose while it devoured the fruit, then turned that sparkling gaze upon Erik again.

  Before she could ask him some question, Erik spoke.

  “It was but a bird,” he told the horse with affectionate disgust, then rubbed its nose in turn. He flexed his leg while he stood there, assessing the damage from the fall. His hip was stiff and sore, it would undoubtedly be black and blue, but he would survive. He bent his leg once or twice and was relieved as it became more agile.

  “You must think me no more keen of wit than a child,” Vivienne said. She watched him, though he had not realized as much, her eyes narrowed.

  “I think you a woman who has lived in privilege,” Erik said, not wanting to chastise her when she was clearly judging herself harshly. “I also think your mother named it rightly, and that you are a woman keen of wit, though that does not mean you can know all.”

  “I am sorry. I never intended that you should be injured.”

  “Nor did I.” Erik felt immediately contrite, for she looked so crestfallen. He reached out and touched her cheek with a fingertip, coaxing her to meet his gaze. “If I confess to believing that you can summon a raven, though it defies reason that such an ability should be so, will you pledge to not do so again?”

  Vivienne smiled then, her smile as radiant as the first rays of the dawn. Indeed, the sight warmed Erik to his very toes. “Such a pledge should be sealed with a kiss, do you not think?” she said, then stepped around the horse and rose to kiss him on the mouth.

  Her spontaneous embrace was a rare pleasure. Indeed, no man of sense could argue with her reasoning, so Erik returned her kiss.

  * * *

  Vivienne marveled that Erik’s kiss grew more beguiling with familiarity, not less so. She leaned her hands upon his chest and stretched to the tips of her toes, wanting only to kiss him fully.

  And truly, a kiss seemed the most fitting apology for what she had so foolishly done. What had begun as the manner of jest she would have played on one of her siblings had gone awry beyond her expectations. In hindsight, Vivienne felt like a fool.

  It had been easy to conclude from her experience that all horses were accustomed to birds, for example, whereas she now realized that all of the horses she had ridden had been trained with care beforehand. Only in hindsight did she see and appreciate the many hands that had ensured she and her siblings had met with no harm.

  It was not thus for every woman, nor indeed for every man. Vivienne understood that it certainly had not been thus for Erik. As a result, he had a keener ability to anticipate peril, for he held fewer assumptions than she.

  So, even though she had endangered them unwittingly, he had not only ensured that they did not pay a higher price, but he had forgiven her. Once his anger had passed, he had not held her error against her, and Vivienne wished to reward him for his trust.

  She kissed him with ardor and felt his response against her belly. She smiled as he pulled her more resolutely against him, savored the passion of his embrace. She wondered whether they might seal this agreement with more than a mere kiss.

  Then Ruari exhaled with obvious disgust from close proximity. Erik muttered a curse as he lifted his lips from hers and Vivienne hid her smile.

  Ruari glared at them, hands propped upon his hips. “And here I am, riding the very breadth of Scotland in pursuit of a steed, a steed which has returned to you of its own volition, and the two of you are so consumed with each other alone that you could not trouble to summon me with tidings of that horse’s return?”

  “I knew, Ruari, that you would not be far behind Fafnir, since you have such a talent for pursuit,” Erik said, still holding Vivienne fast against his chest. She leaned her brow upon him and hid her amusement in his cloak.

  Ruari harrumphed. He did not dismount, merely peered pointedly at the sky, then back at the embracing pair. “Do you mean to ride further this night? Or shall I make myself absent again while you labor to create a male heir for Blackleith?”

  It was clear from his tone that Ruari was yet disgruntled, though he did not grant Erik a chance
to protest.

  “I should have thought that you would have a desire for haste in this journey,” Ruari huffed and puffed. “Seeing as no man knows what occurs beneath Nicholas’ hand, but I may have misunderstood your enthusiasm for the pursuit of justice.”

  “Your counsel is uncommonly wise, Ruari, and indeed I mean to ride north with all haste,” Erik said mildly.

  Ruari pursed his lips and might have argued further, but Erik moved to depart immediately. He locked his hands around Vivienne’s waist and lifted her to Fafnir’s saddle.

  She noticed that Erik put his good leg in the saddle to swing himself up behind her, no less that he still moved stiffly, and feared that he was more injured than he would have had her believe. He turned the horse, though, and urged the beast to his former speed, as if untroubled.

  He appeared so untroubled that Vivienne understood otherwise. She already knew that Erik appeared more impassive when matters were less to his liking.

  She was concerned that their riding would injure his hip further, but dared not suggest as much outright in Ruari’s presence. She could feel how Erik braced himself, how he periodically caught his breath in pain, and she nibbled her lip in consternation. Not only was she responsible for his injury, but she could do little to ensure that it did not become worse.

  “And time enough it is too,” Ruari grumbled, his steed cantering beside Fafnir with easy grace. “The night is half gone and Ravensmuir yet on the horizon. We shall be fortunate indeed if we put enough distance between ourselves and the lady’s kin before that cursed bird rouses their suspicions.”

  “You need not fear as much, Ruari,” Vivienne felt the need to admit. “I cannot truly speak to the ravens. I only meant to play a jest upon you both.”

  Erik made a sound that might have been wrought of amusement, but Vivienne did not turn to see the expression on his face.

  “A jest!” Ruari cried. “And what is amusing about striking terror into the innards of an old man? I thought you a fetching lass, but your heart, it seems, is shadowed.” Ruari shook a finger at Vivienne. “It is said that there is no wind colder than a fair maiden’s heart. Do you mean to prove the truth of it?”

  “I erred!” Vivienne protested. “It was not my intent to harm either of you. You and I are in agreement about matters unseen: I meant only to challenge Erik’s convictions.”

  “Ruari, there is no harm done,” Erik said firmly.

  “No harm,” the older man snorted. “Do you think I have no eyes in my head? I saw how you mounted your steed. You may not wish the lady to think you wounded, but I discern the truth of it. You would be best away from this foul land, back in the north when friends and foes are not only known to us but devoid of any unholy powers...”

  “Ruari, let us leave the matter be and ride,” Erik said.

  “Ride, indeed we should ride. I counsel that we ride directly for Queensferry, since you hold my advice in such high regard, and that we should not halt until we stand upon a boat and its sails are unfurled and the tide is carrying us away from these lands. Let there be the width of the Firth of Forth between ourselves and Ravensmuir before we sleep is what I say. Let us find ourselves in more familiar - and less traveled - country before we rest our weary selves, the better that we do not have to awaken at every sound. Fife would suit me well enough. Aberdeenshire would be better.”

  “It is too far to Queensferry,” Erik argued, his tone revealing that his patience was strained. “The horses will be pressed overmuch.”

  “It is two days ride,” Vivienne said, wanting to add weight to Erik’s view. “Even if we rode without cease, we could not arrive before Monday morn.”

  Ruari shook his head, unpersuaded. “The horses are fresh enough, if I may say as much, and they are doughty steeds well capable of a long run when the circumstance demands. If ever circumstance demanded, lad, it does on this night! There is a shiver in my very marrow, which is as reliable a portent of bad fortune as ever a man has known. I felt that shiver the night you were summoned to aid Thomas Gunn and I felt it again the night your father breathed his last. A man must listen to the warnings of his very bones.”

  “But mine offer no such warning,” Erik said.

  Ruari shook his head. “We will be ill-advised to remain on this side of the Firth longer than we have need of doing so, upon that you can rely, lad.”

  “We will not ride during the day, Ruari,” Erik said. Vivienne felt him adjust his pose in the saddle. His hip would not be served well by more time in the saddle.

  “There will be much activity upon the road to Edinburgh on the morrow for the market,” she said, not being certain of any such thing. “We will not make good speed within a crowd.”

  “All the more reason to let the horses rest,” Erik concluded. “For neither of them are accustomed to a busy thoroughfare.”

  “It is folly, lad!” Ruari flung out his hands. “How can I make the matter clear to you?”

  “You cannot,” Erik said finally and much to the older man’s displeasure. He then leaned toward Vivienne, granting Ruari no chance to further complain. “Were you not going to recount a tale? Ruari is fond of tales, as I recall, and the telling will pass the time more quickly.”

  “Of course.” Vivienne noted that Ruari settled into a disgruntled silence, knowing that his counsel would not be heeded and not satisfied with that in the least. Wanting only to leave dissent behind them, she cleared her throat and began to sing.

  “True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,

  When he espied a fairy lady;

  This lady she was brisk and bold,

  and she rode to the Eildon Tree.

  Her skirt was of the grass-green silk;

  her bridle of gold most fine;

  and woven into her horse's mane,

  were fifty silver bells and nine.”

  “A tale of a fairy, is it then?” Ruari asked, his expression brightening in his interest. “I like a tale with beauteous women, to be sure.” He spared Vivienne a telling glance. “Doubtless she has a heart wrought of ice, though.”

  “True Thomas he took off his hat,

  and bowed him low down till his knee.

  ‘All hail, Mary, mighty Queen of Heaven!

  Your peer on earth I ne'er did see.’

  “‘Oh no, oh no, True Thomas,’ she said,

  'That name does not belong to me.

  I am the queen of the fairy realm,

  Come to hunt with greyhounds three. ’”

  Thomas then spake bold to her,

  Her fairness unfurled his words:

  ‘Lady, you have claimed my heart,

  Come lie and hear the birds.’”

  “A tale of a fairy bedded by a mortal man!” Ruari chortled. He winked at Vivienne. “You bear more than one surprise, lass, that is to be certain.”

  Vivienne did not know what to say to that, so she sang.

  “‘Thomas, you know not what you ask;

  You care only your will.

  For if I should lie abed with you,

  My beauty will be spilled.’”

  ‘Lovely lady, rue on me,

  Know I will serve you well.

  Alight with me, lie with me,

  I will ever with you dwell.’”

  “Persistence is the key,” Ruari muttered. “Therein lies the way to success in any endeavor. This Thomas, he refuses to accept that she declines his suit and I predict that he will see reward for his stubborn regard.”

  “Do not even think of arguing in this moment for riding directly to Queensferry,” Erik said. “That matter is resolved, and your persistence will only be irksome.”

  “It is like casting pearls before swine,” Ruari declared to no one in particular. He beat a fist upon his chest. “I conjure counsel from the weight of my experience, I urge wise courses through the goodness of my heart, I do this purely to ensure that those upon whom I am dependent do not err in ignorance.”

  Ruari gestured as if offering riches to the poor “And yet, a
nd yet, my sage advice, culled from decades of experience among men foul and fair, is discarded -” he cast out his hands “- like the dung of chickens.” He sighed in forbearance, turning his gaze heavenward as if seeking strength to bear his earthly burdens. “Do not hold matters against me, my lord William,” he said, apparently appealing to the ghost of Erik’s father. “A mortal man can but try to make others see sense.”

  “You could break your word to my father instead, and abandon me to my folly,” Erik suggested, earning a baleful glance from his companion for daring to tease him thus.

  “Never!” Ruari declared.

  “Then we shall make the ferry by Tuesday.”

  Ruari visibly grit his teeth.

  Vivienne sang.

  “‘Thomas, Thomas, you speak folly,

  A price be there for this ride.

  Your lust leads us astray this day,

  But I see you will not be denied.’

  Down then came that lady bright,

  underneath the Eildon Tree.

  As the story tells full right,

  Seven times with Thomas she did be.”

  “Seven times!” Ruari chuckled at that, the tale clearly distracting him from his disappointment with Erik. “There is a lusty maiden, to be sure, though fairies are said to have unholy appetites. And Thomas!” He whistled through his teeth. “Seven times. Seven! There was a man of persistence and uncommon fortitude, to be sure.”

  Vivienne found herself blushing. She had forgotten the earthy nature of these first verses, or perhaps she had not fully understood them when she had heard them last. She had learned much these past two nights, to be sure. Worse, she was curious whether she and Erik might be able to couple seven times in rapid succession. She felt an indication against her buttocks that his thoughts might be following a similar course and her heart skipped a beat in anticipation.

  Then she recalled the next verse and did not know whether she could sing it in this company or not.