“The woman treated the child most unkindly and I believe Cormac kens that, if nay the how of it. One thing she seemed most fond of doing was complaining about how he didnae have the grace to die like the others.” Maldie nodded, her expression grim, when Elspeth gasped in shock. “I dinnae think the woman beat the child or hurt him physically, aside from being to quick to slap, but what little I have found out indicates that she did her best to make him feel unloved, unwanted, and mayhap, unloveable. Agnes told me that once, shortly after the lad turned six, Lady Isabel arrived while the boy was finishing his bath. Nothing happened, and Agnes feels nothing e’er did, for she kept a close guard, but something in the way Isabel looked at the child and insisted upon drying him made Agnes sick with fear for the boy. I did hear a rumor or two at court that said Lady Isabel liked the verra young lads, the beardless boys who hadnae yet had a woman.” Maldie shrugged. “Still, I can sense no deep scars in the boy, although there are some wounds. He will need a lot of nurturing.”
“Are ye saying that I should set aside my own concerns for the sake of that poor, sad boy?”
“I am saying that, aye. Sort out your troubles, for an unhappy union will do the lad no good at all. Now isnae the time, however. And to be quite blunt, child, ye will still be wed on the morrow no matter how much ye grumble. Your father is adament and Cormac seems just as set on the business. Ye carry the mon’s child. He has brought his son to you and clearly wishes the three of ye to be a family. And there is wee Alan to consider as weel. There is also the fact that ye love that mon, and if ye are as much like me as I suspect ye are, ye will ne’er love anyone else as completely, as deeply, or as passionately. Dinnae toss it all aside because ye fear a dead woman or fret o’er a vow made by a lad of little more than sixteen.”
Elspeth saw no point in relating any more of her concerns. Her mother had made her position quite clear and her final words made Elspeth feel as if she was being foolish or weak. As Elspeth ate, they talked about who was going to attend the wedding in the morning. Then her mother escorted her back to her bedchamber and left her there with a kiss on the cheek that silently offered encouragement.
Her mother’s words were still haunting Elspeth in the morning as she slipped away to the nursery to visit with little Alan and Christopher. She knew it would soon be too chaotic to do so, for with her family would come a great many children. Christopher sat on the floor, piling up blocks for Alan to knock down, smiling when the tiny boy giggled madly as the blocks tumbled loudly to the floor. Christopher had taken to Alan very quickly and Elspeth wondered if he felt some bond with the child, who had been so cruelly cast aside. Agnes gave her a brief smile and a wink as Elspeth sat down with the boys; then she returned to sewing a little shirt for Alan.
“He does enjoy that,” Elspeth murmured as Alan knocked another pile of blocks over, giggled merrily, and then crawled over to sit in her lap.
“He is a good bairn,” Christopher said, briefly and shyly touching Alan’s dark curls. “His mother didnae have much heart, either, just like mine. I will let him ken that it isnae his fault that she didnae keep him.”
“And I think ’tis advice he will heed much more closely if it comes from you.”
“He will come to live with us, willnae he?”
Elspeth had the feeling that Christopher would fight her with every possible weapon a clever child of seven could muster if she said nay. “Aye, that was my plan. I think your father will allow it.”
“Oh, aye.” Christopher gave her a smile that made her heart ache because it so strongly resembled his father’s. “He told me all about wee Alan. He said he missed the bairn almost as much as he missed you. He said he missed waking up and hearing the bairn sucking on his toes and babbling at the cat. Muddy is a verra good cat,” Christopher added, glancing toward Muddy, who was sprawled near Alan’s crib, watching them all closely.
Flung into a mixture of delight and confusion over what Christopher had told her his father had said, Elspeth took a moment to gather her wits before she said, “He is. A verra good cat indeed. Now, lad”—she looked right at Christopher—“I came to ask ye if it is acceptable to ye that I marry your father.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Agnes nod with approval and Elspeth wondered why that should make her feel so absurdly pleased.
“Aye, Lady Elspeth,” Christopher replied, his pretty face solemn. “I asked my father if ye had a heart and he said ye had a verra big one. I can see that he was right. He also said he hopes ye will let him back in.”
“Just between us, laddie, I ne’er cast him out. I just got a wee bit angry, and I will tell ye true: He still has some explaining to do.”
Christopher nodded. “Ye want to ken that ye are in his heart, too.”
“Aye, my bonny boy, that I do.” Or at least know that someone else is not still lurking there, she mused.
For a little while longer, she played with the children; then she started to leave. Agnes rose and walked her to just outside the nursery door. It was clear that Agnes wanted to say something, and Elspeth tried to wait patiently for the woman to begin.
“Young Sir Cormac is a good mon, m’lady,” Agnes finally said. “The moment that bi—her ladyship’s secret was uncovered, he took on the care of his laddie. He and that lot of handsome kinsmen of his filled my wee cottage near to bursting, but it did my bairn more good than I can say. Ye see, he was finally accepted. The only one of his blood he had kenned of before they all arrived—weel, she made it verra clear that he wasnae wanted. Those big lads treated him like one of their own, teasing him, playing with him, and sometimes teaching him things I had to box their ears for.”
It was hard, but Elspeth bit back a smile at the image of Agnes sternly ruling over a small horde of full-grown Armstrong men. Although Agnes was Christopher’s nurse, it was clear she meant to mother the whole lot. Elspeth wondered if any of the Armstrongs understood that yet.
“What I am trying to say, m’lady, is that all the lad needs is to be accepted,” Agnes continued, “to have himself a true home.”
“I will have nay trouble doing that,” Elspeth assured her.
“I ken it, and when done with my rambling, I was going to bless ye for it. And ’tis good of ye to keep that wee bairn. Christopher has grown most fond of the bonny wee lad.”
“Oh, aye, ’tis easy to see. But they have a bond, dinnae they? They were both cast aside and both had unnatural mothers who wished them dead and gone.”
Agnes shook her head. “I ken it happens, but I have ne’er understood it or been able to forgive it. Weel, ye had best go and prepare for the wedding. I have said all I meant to say. I just wished to thank ye for giving the poor lad a home.”
“Ah, Agnes,” Elspeth kissed the older woman’s cheek and then started to walk back to her bedchamber. “Christopher has always had that because God blessed him and gave him you.”
The moment Elspeth entered her bedchamber she was set upon by her cousins Avery, Bega and little Gillyanne, as well as her sister Morna and several maids. Elspeth protested at so much help, but she was ruthlessly ignored. She was undressed, bathed, and dressed, and her hair was washed, brushed dry, and decorated with bright green ribbons. By the time they were done and she was left alone with just Avery and young Gillyanne, Elspeth was exhausted, but she had to admit that she felt pretty. The green of her gown suited her. Thinking that was a little vain, she blushed.
“Blushing?” teased her cousin Avery, who looked particularly catlike as she stretched on Elspeth’s bed, her golden eyes alight with laughter. “Dinnae tell me ye have forgotten what to do?”
“Young ears,” Elspeth muttered, glancing at Gillyanne, who promised to be as beautiful as her elder sister Sorcha.
Gillyanne snorted indelicately. “Nay that young. Nay with brothers and cousins like mine.”
“Just why have the two of ye lingered here?” Elspeth nervously toyed with a lock of her hair.
“Gillyanne is to hold the wedding cup and I am to make sure that ye
dinnae trip on your gown and fall on your face,” Avery answered cheerfully. “And we wished to visit, though ’twill be a short one, for Gillyanne and I are soon off to France to visit my cousins.”
“Truly? I am surprised Aunt Bethia will allow it.”
“I think she feels she has near to caged the lass since what happened to Sorcha. We hope to be gone ere she grows too fretful again and snatches Gilly back.”
“Is Sorcha to be here, too?”
“Nay,” Gilly replied. “She couldnae leave the convent on such short notice, but she vows to attend you when ye have your first bairn.” Gilly laughed when Elspeth instinctively rested her hand on her stomach. “Aye, she said that she doubted it would be verra long before ye sent her word that a bairn was due.”
“Wretched brat,” Elspeth teased, then took a deep breath to steady herself. “Weel, let us go and get this o’er with.”
“Such romance,” drawled Avery as she scrambled off the bed with a grace Elspeth envied. “He is a bonny lad, Cousin, and I think he is most eager to claim you. And, his son is verra sweet.”
“When did ye meet Christopher?” she asked as they started out of her room.
“Late last night. We arrived after ye had already retreated to your chambers. Between the journey and meeting so many bonny Armstrongs, I found that I couldnae sleep. I crept down to the kitchens, hoping to find some warm, spiced wine. Agnes was there feeding wee Alan some porridge and a sleepy Christopher was watching her verra carefully. She kindly made me some hot, spiced wine and we all had a nice visit as I drank it.” Avery winked at Elspeth as they entered the great hall. “Agnes wants your first bairn to be a lass. She says there are already too many male Armstrongs.” Looking at the crowd gathered in the great hall, Avery laughed softly. “She may be right.”
Elspeth smiled in reply to Avery’s good humor, but her attention was on Cormac. He stood with her father, talking quietly to the young priest. The way his tall, lean body looked in the black and silver doublet and hose he wore made her insides ache. Off to his side were several of his brothers and young Christopher, dressed in plaids and crisp white shirts. Her father still looked tall and fit in his equally black doublet and hose and Elspeth smiled faintly as she recalled how often her mother had tried and failed to get her big brown mon to wear anything colorful. To her father’s side were her brothers Connor, Ewan, and Liam all handsomely arrayed in their plaids. It was a sight, she mused, to linger in a young lass’s mind.
As if he sensed she was looking at him, Cormac turned. He searched her face intently, as if trying to judge what she was feeling. Then he smiled. Her breath caught in her throat and she heard both of her cousins sigh in appreciation.
It was an effort, but Elspeth inwardly pulled herself together. There was no stopping the marriage and she was not even sure she would do so if there was, but she and Cormac had a few problems to sort through yet. That would never happen if she let him addle her wits with smiles and warm looks. Even if the answers she got did not completely please her, Elspeth was determined not to begin their marriage with questions unanswered, explanations ungiven, and doubts unassuaged.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she walked toward him. She suspected every bride felt a little nervous, though probably with not as much reason as she had. What she needed was his love and she did not know if she had it or ever would. Once she had allowed herself to think she had reached his heart, and then he had turned to Isabel. She could not bear such hurt a second time. There would be no more assumptions made on her part.
“Ye are looking verra solemn, lass,” Cormac said as she stepped up to his side.
“Marriage is a solemn business,” she said haughtily, but she ruined her pose by glaring at her father and adding, “Especially when one of the participants ne’er got a chance to say aye or nay.”
Balfour clasped his hands behind his back and gazed at the ceiling, sighing as if with infinite patience. “’Tis a wee bit late to be complaining about that.”
“If I could have found a certain fither alone for one tiny moment in the last three days, I might not have had to wait till now.”
Fixing a stern gaze upon the nervous priest, Balfour ordered, “Get on with it.”
“Weel,” the priest shakily cleared his throat, “both parties must be willing.”
When both her father and Cormac looked at her, Elspeth crossed her arms and began to hum softly. Although she had every intention of proceeding, she decided it would not hurt to make then sweat just a little. She heard the men curse, her mother and aunts groan with a mixture of amusement and mild despair, and behind her, her two cousins doing a very poor job of stifling their giggles. Elspeth was curious as to how her father and Cormac would solve this little problem she had just presented them.
“This isnae funny, lass,” snapped Balfour. “Ye will do as ye are told.” When his daughter just hummed a little louder, Balfour cursed and dragged his fingers through his lightly graying hair. “Ye are as stubborn as your mother.”
Elspeth stopped humming long enough to murmur, “Thank ye.”
“It wasnae a compliment.”
“Balfour,” Maldie warned as, flanked by Elspeth’s aunts Bethia and Giselle, she moved to stand beside him. “Ye are swimming in some verra dangerous waters.”
When his wife did no more than stand there watching her daughter with a half smile on her face, Balfour asked, “Are ye nay going to help?”
“’Tis your mess. Ye made it. Ye clean it up.”
Cormac was torn between amusement and dismay. He noticed that their kin, after the first shock had passed, were all openly amused. Balfour even had a glint of it in his eyes. Ordering Elspeth was obviously not going to work, but Cormac did not feel completely helpless. He had a way he could persuade her. After a heated kiss or two, Elspeth was usually so muddled that he could probably tell her that the moon was green and she would agree with him. At least that used to be the case. For one brief moment, he hesitated, not sure he wanted to put it to the test. Then he decided that, if he could no longer affect her like that, it might well be a good idea to halt the wedding. Being tied for life to Elspeth when she no longer felt that deep, rich passion for him that she had before would be hell on earth.
“Sir Balfour, if I may…?” Cormac asked, bowing slightly.
“Ye think ye can make the lass see reason?” asked Balfour.
His plan was to make Elspeth lose all reason, at least long enough to get them married, but he could not say so. If nothing else, he did not want Elspeth warned. “’Tis worth a try.”
“Weel, do your best.”
“Oh, I intend to,” Cormac drawled and yanked Elspeth into his arms.
Elspeth’s humming stopped on a squeak as Cormac covered her mouth with his. He was vaguely aware of the hoots of approval from the men and the cries of dismay from the women, but most of his attention was fixed upon the slender woman in his arms. Her body was stiff, her lips pressed tightly together, and Cormac feared that he had killed all the passion inside her. Then she softened with a sigh. He trembled and felt her echo it as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. He kissed her long and hard, breaking off only long enough for them both to catch their breath. Then he kissed her again.
When he ended the second kiss, he looked at her. Her lips were soft and wet, her cheeks flushed, and when she opened her beautiful eyes, he nearly groaned aloud. There was the look he had missed so desperately. For a moment, he was so aroused, so moved he almost forgot what he was doing. He kissed the hollow by her ear, then lightly nibbled on her earlobe.
“Say, aye, my angel,” he whispered as he heard the priest, nudged out of his shock by Balfour, ask again if Elspeth was a willing bride.
“To what, Cormac?” she asked, clinging tightly to him.
“To the priest. Tell him aye, loving.” As a coup de grâce he stuck his tongue in her ear.
“Oh, aye,” Elspeth said and wondered why she should be hearing laughter.
Prompted yet again
by a nudge from Balfour, the priest began to read the vows. Cormac kept Elspeth close by his side as he urged her to kneel with him. Every time he thought she might be coming to her senses, he toyed with her ear or kissed her outright. When the priest pronounced them man and wife, Cormac sprang to his feet and pulled Elspeth up. He kissed her soundly, then leaned away a little and grinned at her as they drank from the wedding cup Gillyanne hurriedly gave them.
“Ah, my Lady Armstrong, no mon could have a bonnier wife,” he said, then waited a little tensely for realization to hit her.
Elspeth blinked, then looked around. Although she had been vaguely aware of where she was, little else had been clear besides the feel of Cormac’s mouth on hers. It took only a moment for the sensual haze he had put her in to clear her mind. With a soft curse, she pulled away from Cormac.
“That was verra sneaky, Cormac,” she said as, her fists planted on her slender hips, she glared up at him.
She was furious. Not only had he used her passion against her, but he had let both of their families see him do it. The only thing that kept her from hitting him, very hard and frequently, was that he was as aroused as she was. She could almost smell his desire. He was undoubtedly aching as much as she was. She, however, could wait and not suffer quite as much discomfort as he did.
“Now, Elspeth,” Cormac began as he watched her lovely eyes narrow.
“Nay, ’tis done. No sense in arguing the matter.”
He frowned, not trusting her blithe acceptance of his trickery. “That is verra gracious of ye.”
“Thank ye. And now, ’tis time for the feast.” She leaned close to Cormac and kissed his cheek, giving him such a sweet smile that his frown immediately deepened. “A verra long wedding feast,” she said precisely as she hooked her arms through those of her cousins. “Why, with so much food and drink, and all the entertainments planned, it could easily go on till dawn.”
Cormac cursed and watched her stroll away, her female relatives hurrying after her and every one of them not making any attempt at all to hide their amusement. She had found a way to make him pay for his trick. He already ached for her almost more than he could endure. If she was going to make him wait until dawn before sharing his bed, he would undoubtedly be found huddled in a corner, gibbering like an idiot.
Highland Vow Page 27
