Jacqueline looked down at the missive. “I do not think I have this choice,” she said carefully. “’Tis the convent for me.”
Her mother exhaled in exasperation, but Duncan laid a hand upon his wife’s arm. “You know that our concern is solely for your happiness, Jacqueline,” he reminded her.
“Aye, I know it.” She hugged them both and stepped back, doubting that she would be allowed ever to see them again. Aye, she was effectively dead and gone from this world, just as her mother had tried to tell her all those months ago.
Her vision was blurred by sudden tears and she clasped her letters tightly against her heart. They were so precious and would undoubtedly become more so as her loneliness increased.
But how could she ask them to grant another rich gift to the convent to see her freed of this place? Indeed, her choices had already cost her family too dear.
“I love you both so very much,” Jacqueline declared, her tears slipping down her cheeks. “I thank you for all the sacrifices you have made on my behalf.”
“Ah, Jacqueline, you know I would do any deed for you.” Her mother caught her close, hugging her so tightly that Jacqueline could not draw a breath. She did not want to, but returned her mother’s embrace with equal ardor.
They parted finally, both trembling, then kissed each other’s cheeks. Jacqueline could not help but think it might be for the very last time. Duncan embraced her as well and she sank to the bench as they departed. She lifted her tear-filled gaze to the crucifix above the altar and thought of sacrifices made.
She recalled her mother’s sacrifice, in leaving all she knew so that her daughters might wed for love, as she had not. She thought of her mother’s determination that there not be harsh words between they two, as there had been between Jacqueline’s mother and grandmother over her mother’s arranged marriage.
’Twould change naught, but she owed her mother the truth.
“Maman!” she called, and heard their footsteps halt at the rear of the chapel. She did not turn but bowed her head. “I would have you know that you called matters aright in this.”
“I do not understand.”
“You insisted that I pledged to join the convent out of fear, fear of men, fear fostered by Reynaud. You said that the right man, a man of honor, could dismiss my fear and show me the happiness to be found in love.”
“Aye, I remember.”
“And you were right, Maman.” She swallowed, then attempted to lighten the silence behind her. “I wanted you to know, because I know how you do love to be proven right.” She felt her mother’s hand fall suddenly on her shoulder but did not look up. “Then why are you here, child?”
“My regard is not returned.”
“But had you not told this man of your desire to take these vows?”
“Aye, but he did not protest my choice! He clearly had no desire to change my thinking.”
“Perhaps he did not wish to test your vow.”
Jacqueline met her mother’s steady gaze. “Or perhaps, Maman, he did not desire me.”
“Then he is a fool.” To Jacqueline’s surprise, her mother smiled at her, her eyes filled with warmth. “Or he is of a rare breed of man who respects the choices of women sufficiently that he does not challenge them. Such esteem does not mean that his heart is empty; indeed, it oft signals the opposite.”
And she gestured to the back of the chapel. Jacqueline turned, her heart nigh stopping when she saw Angus standing beside Duncan. He watched her avidly, and she had no doubt that he had heard her confession. Her cheeks burned but he did not so much as blink.
“Do you stand fast in your choice,” he asked quietly, “now that you know what ’tis you face here at Inveresbeinn?”
Jacqueline straightened. “It seems I must.”
“You could leave.”
“I have no means to replace the endowment, and I would not ask my parents to do this for me.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “You might persuade another to make the payment.”
“I will not be bought and sold like so much chattel.”
Angus smiled slightly then. “But brides are bought with endowments all the time. Would you not accept a donation made to this establishment in your name in lieu of that dowry?”
“’Twould depend upon the groom,” she whispered.
He began to walk toward her. He was taller than she recalled, and his presence was as commanding as ever. He was dressed in blue of so dark a hue it might have been black. His tabard was edged in purple, the crusader’s cross abandoned for a purple thistle. His familiar red cloak was cast over one shoulder, and he still wore that patch over his eye.
Airdfinnan suited Angus well, she saw, though there were still shadows in the depths of his eye.
“Aye?” he asked, when they nearly stood toe to toe. “You are particular then?”
“Very particular.” Jacqueline held his gaze. “Indeed, there is only one man who will do, and then only if he makes the pledge I yearn to hear.”
“Is that the truth of it?” He shed his glove and touched her chin with his fingertips, coaxing her to look at him fully.
Jacqueline felt that familiar tremble dance over her flesh. “Aye, ’tis.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. “The odds against any one man would seem most formidable.”
“The man I would wed has a will wrought of the finest steel.”
“He sounds most fearsome. Why would you wed such a man?”
She eyed him boldly. “I told him the truth of it already. ’Tis time he made a similar confession to me.”
Angus’s gaze searched hers as his thumb moved leisurely across her chin. He seemed to be choosing his words, but Jacqueline was too impatient to wait.
“Why did you come, after all this time?”
“There is something of yours that I would return.”
“I left naught of import with you.”
Save her heart, but she would not tell him that so readily again.
Angus’s lips quirked. “So you might believe,” he murmured, and she was certain that he knew the truth. But he reached into his purse and withdrew something so small that it nigh disappeared on his broad palm.
She leaned forward to look, startled to discover ’twas that single golden hair which she had granted to him. “You still have it?”
Angus stared at the hair, avoiding her gaze. “A lady’s favor should not be discarded so casually as that. And truly it has become as a talisman to me.”
“Of what?”
“Of beauty.”
Jacqueline turned away, disgusted that he pursued her for her looks alone.
Angus halted her with one fingertip upon her elbow. “Are you not sufficiently curious to hear all of the tale?”
“Not if it involves golden tresses and a visage of unrivaled beauty. I have prayers to recite.”
He smiled at her. “It involves but one golden hair, and though the hair is indeed beauteous, ’tis what it recalled to me that granted it such power.”
“What power?”
His smile faded. “The power to banish memories best forgotten, the power to bring sunshine into darkness and healing where there was naught but pain.”
She looked at the hair, then eyed him skeptically. “Because it is the hue of sunlight?”
He held it up between them, his gaze compelling her to believe him. “Because it reminds me of the lady who shed it, however angrily, and the brightness of her spirit. She is a woman whose heart is filled with hope, a woman of rare determination and of a character more generous and beauteous than any woman’s face could be.”
Angus watched Jacqueline so intently that she felt pinned to the spot.
“But I have discovered that the reminder will not suffice,” he continued. “This hair, however beauteous, cannot laugh. It cannot find the good within the wicked, it cannot jest, it cannot even be curious.”
Angus placed the hair deliberately within her hand and closed her fingers over it. “B
ut all the same, for being a reminder of a lady who oft does all of those things, it has been a talisman for me. I thank you for the gift, for this and this alone has helped me banish the shadows that tormented me.”
Jacqueline regarded him in surprise, trying to ignore the way her mouth went dry. “You have no more nightmares?”
Angus shook his head. “Not a one. Thanks to you.”
Jacqueline fingered the hair. Gratitude was more than she had expected from him and yet so much less than she desired. “So you came to give your thanks to me?”
“Nay, I came because I have missed you,” he said softly. “I miss both your laughter and your certainty that all will come aright. Be assured, Jacqueline, that I began for this convent a hundred times, but I had vowed to give you your choice as other men did not.” He smiled ruefully. “I am weak, though, for I could not resist the opportunity to ask you to reconsider your choice afore ’tis too late.”
She parted her lips but he set his thumb across them, silencing her.
“When we parted, I had no right to seek a bride. I did not dare to anticipate Airdfinnan would be ceded to me again, though the archbishop has done that very thing. The crops were good this year and will be better next, primarily due to the aid of those at Ceinn-beithe. That feud is long behind us. Though Father Aloysius had hoarded coin, ’twas not his to hold. The tithes were long overdue and treaties had to be confirmed with such gifts that my treasury is nigh bare.”
He took a breath, again not permitting her to interrupt. “Though my circumstances are humble, I could ensure your comfort. Know that I would defend you with my own life and that I have taken care to have the coin to appease the abbess. Though I have Duncan’s permission to seek your hand and your mother’s blessing, the most important agreement is yet lacking.”
Jacqueline did not dare to interrupt this inventory. She watched Angus, knowing she had never seen him show the least uncertainty before.
But he was uncertain of her.
“If you say nay, I shall not trouble you again. If this is your choice, ’twill be unchallenged by me.” His gaze burned into her own as if he would will the truth from her lips. “You told me once that you would willingly share my bed. Does that mean that you would willingly wear my ring, that you would be my lady?”
“That depends upon why you ask,” she said, her voice husky.
“There is only one reason to ask such a thing,” he declared. “Because I love you.”
Jacqueline blinked back her tears of joy. “All I ever wanted of you was your love, Angus.”
“And in the end, ’tis the only offering which I can guarantee.” He smiled and caught her shoulders in his hands, flexing his fingers around her as if he needed reassurance that she truly stood before him. Jacqueline smiled up at him, knowing she looked like a besotted fool and not caring a whit. She heard her mother sniffle happily.
Then Angus conjured a silver ring, richly encircled with a knotted design. He held it an increment before her left hand. “’Tis the ring with which my parents pledged their troth. My mother entrusted it to me for good fortune in this quest.”
“You had no need of such fortune,” Jacqueline whispered, lifting her hand.
Angus frowned slightly as he slid the ring over her knuckle. “She said the token of a Celt might fill the deficit of your lineage as it did her own, though I cannot guess her meaning. She refused to say more.”
Jacqueline laughed. “It matters not.” When the ring was securely upon her finger, she looked up at him, certain all the love within her shone in her eyes. “You knew I would accept you,” she whispered.
“I hoped, my Jacqueline.” He caught her close and smiled down at her. “I had naught but hope, though ’twas you who taught me that hope could oft be enough.”
He bent and kissed her soundly, ignoring the consternation of the arriving abbess and priest.
In due time, the joyous party left both chapel and convent, but not before Jacqueline retrieved her hidden token of heather. Angus noted it with a smile and tucked it into his purse with nary a word between them.
Indeed, they shared a smile so warm that the abbess clucked her tongue.
Jacqueline was not surprised to see Lucifer grazing beyond the walls, nor two palfreys from Ceinn-beithe and two other smaller steeds. A pair of squires tended the steeds, purple thistles embroidered on their tabards.
A dainty mare stood beside Lucifer, so lovely that Jacqueline caught her breath. She seemed fragile in her grace, for her ankles were uncommonly slender and her gait elegant. The horse was of the hue of deepest chestnut. Her mane and tail were darker still and hung long and silky.
“From Persia,” Angus supplied. “Sent as a gift to the Templar master, who offered her to me when I expressed my admiration. I have always thought the Saracen horses most beauteous.” The mare nickered at him as if she appreciated the compliment. “This one is cursedly quick of wit and fleet of foot. She escaped four squires and an ostler on her first day at Airdfinnan and granted them a merry chase.”
He turned a smile upon Jacqueline. “I thought my intended bride might have need of a mount of her own, especially one that she might so readily understand.”
Jacqueline laughed, thanked him, then stepped closer. The mare tugged at her reins, straining in inquisitiveness, her nose working as she sought to come closer to Jacqueline.
“I thought to name her Vixen, if you approve,” Angus suggested with an innocence of manner that made Jacqueline laugh again.
“She is beautiful and I think the name most fitting.” Jacqueline greeted the creature, scratched her ears, and made a conquest in short order. Angus beckoned to the boys, but she waved them off. “I would not ride her this day, Angus.”
“Whyever not?”
“After all these days apart and on our nuptial day, I would ride only with you, husband of mine.”
Angus laughed, a rich and merry sound all the more precious for its rarity. He lifted her into his saddle, then swung up behind her, clamping one arm around her waist to draw her close.
Jacqueline waved farewell to her parents, then turned to look up at him. “Be warned, Angus MacGillivray, that I am not destined to be so dutiful a wife as one might hope.”
He looked skeptical, though there was a warning twinkle in his eye. “Indeed?”
“Indeed. You told me the truth of it yourself.” Jacqueline counted her shortcomings on her fingers. “I am not obedient.”
Angus chuckled. “Nay, you are not.”
“I fear ’tis a talent I will never conquer.” Jacqueline sighed in mock consternation. “And Airdfinnan, I suspect, is not impoverished.” She glanced up and, when Angus shook his head, she grimaced. “So I shall not manage a vow of poverty.” She frowned as if much troubled by this.
“And?” Angus prompted mischievously.
Jacqueline knew he was well aware of the last of the trio of pledges made by a bride of Christ.
“Perhaps I shall endeavor to be chaste,” she said solemnly, not in the least surprised when he tightened his grip upon her.
“Then I shall endeavor to keep you from succeeding,” he said with equal solemnity.
“Is that a pledge, my lord?”
Angus grinned wickedly. “Aye, my lady. It most certainly is. Indeed, you have my word upon it.”
He kissed her once again with vigor, oblivious to the chattering squires, and Jacqueline returned his embrace in kind.
She had the word and the love of a man of honor, and, indeed, Jacqueline could have chosen naught better than that.
An Excerpt from The Temptress
Book #6 of the Bride Quest
Esmeraude of Ceinn-beithe knows that she alone can name the winner of her heart. To the knights gallant who ride from afar to do her bidding, she issues a challenge: a riddle that is both quest and test. And then she flees, daring her suitor to follow. Thus begins the Bride Quest of Bayard of Villonne, to compete for the hand of a woman he has never seen…
Newly returned
from the Crusades, Bayard has warned his family of a pending attack upon their estate. When they pay no heed to his message, he swears to protect the family holding himself…even if its price is a marriage of convenience. It seems a simple matter to win the hand of a rural maid in a barbarian contest — until the chase begins. Esmeraude’s challenge makes her far more intriguing than Bayard had dared to hope.
But when he follows her across the waters and rescues a tattered, ravishing damsel in disguise, he knows he has found her. Recklessly, she offers herself to the handsome stranger. But not even a passion that touches both their souls can win her hand. For Esmeraude will settle for nothing less than total surrender of the crusader’s worn and weary heart…a treasure Bayard is determined to keep shielded forever.
Excerpt from The Temptress
Copyright ©2001, 2012 Claire Delacroix Inc.
When the lilt of Esmeraude’s last song had been carried off by the wind, Célie suddenly clutched the maiden’s arm. “Look!” She pointed to a craft somewhat larger than their own had been, riding the evening tide to shore ahead of them.
Esmeraude halted and stared. The boat was silhouetted against the mist as if it were darker than the night itself, and it seemed touched by starlight in a manner not wholly of this world. A man stood alone in its prow, his cloak flaring behind him in the wind. He appeared master of all he surveyed, in Esmeraude’s fey mood, a returning champion come to claim his due.
What treasure did this one bring? What lands had he seen? What dragons had he conquered? She had no doubt that they were legion. The moonlight gleamed on what could only be a mail surcoat, revealing his status as a knight.
But no ordinary knight, Esmeraude was certain. Nay, this one was an emissary from Faerie, not unlike the enchanted Tam Lin. She watched the boat draw closer and felt a curious sense fill her, an odd certainty that he was her destiny. Aye, he had been summoned by her desire to be rid of her maidenhead as surely as if she had called to him by his own name.
Stolen Brides: Four Beauty-and-the-Beast Medieval Romances Page 127
