The Rose Red Bride JK2 Read online

“You have a scheme.” Alexander did not let his hand close over the coin, not yet.

  “I would not linger over banns and betrothals.”

  “What then?”

  Nicholas frowned, then leaned forward, bracing his elbows upon the table. His eyes shone a vehement blue, which told Alexander the vigor of his intent. “I would capture my intended in the night, consummate our match, then be wed in the morning.”

  Alexander put the coin down on the board with force and pushed it back toward the other man. It slid across the polished wood until Nicholas caught it. “It is vulgar to steal a bride! Though others condone kidnapping and rape as expedient, it will not be done at Kinfairlie!”

  “This course is a necessary one.”

  “No man of honor refuses to court his bride.”

  Nicholas leaned back, touched the wound upon his own face with a fingertip, and said no more.

  “The Lammergeier wed,” Alexander insisted, fearing that Nicholas offered some pagan convention instead of marriage. “We exchange our vows honorably and before witnesses.”

  “I fully intend to wed Vivienne as you suggest. I would merely celebrate the nuptial night before making those vows.”

  Alexander understood that the other man feared that his injury would repel his intended, but still he was troubled. One heard of such arrangements, though usually the maiden was seduced because her father protested the match. “Why such need for haste?”

  Nicholas’ lips tightened to a harsh line. “My cousin means to contest my suzerainty of Blackleith on the basis that I have no bride. I have need of a wife and a son, I have need of both soon, and I choose Vivienne.” He looked Alexander in the eye. “There is no time to delay, for a babe is not brought to light in a night and a day. I desire to wed Vivienne, and I desire to ensure that she cannot deny my suit because of my wound.” He cast the sack of coin back across the table and Alexander caught it.

  This time, Alexander let his fingers close over the hard coins. Though he did not like the means, he could not find no fault with the end result. And he guessed that if he declined Nicholas’ plan, the man would leave Kinfairlie and find another bride.

  Alexander could not so disappoint Vivienne. He knew that if ever there was a woman who could look beyond a man’s face to his heart, it was his sister Vivienne. And he guessed that the reason she found favor with no other suitor was that this was the man she wished to wed.

  “It is Thursday,” Alexander said thoughtfully. “And it would be inappropriate for a wedding to be celebrated on a Friday, despite your desire for haste, for that day is meant for penance. Let your meeting with Vivienne be tomorrow night, then, and your nuptial vows be exchanged immediately afterward on Saturday morning. Saturday nuptials are a good omen for future happiness, after all. I will ensure that Vivienne sleeps alone in the highest chamber of the tower.”

  “How?”

  Alexander smiled, knowing precisely the tale he would tell to encourage his sister to do his will of her own volition. “Leave the matter to me. She will be there. I insist only that you grant her every courtesy due to a lady.”

  His guest inclined his head in agreement. “The wall of your tower faces the sea, and there are windows at the summit.”

  “Three large windows are there, and they all lead to that chamber. You will have to scale the wall, to be sure, and it was wrought smooth purposely to challenge such a feat,” Alexander said. “Surely your desire is sufficient for you to succeed at such a test of valor?”

  Nicholas’ eyes narrowed as he considered this scheme. He looked suddenly dangerous and disreputable, a man untroubled by the prospect of scaling a wall to seduce his bride.

  But then, Vivienne adored old tales. If her true love made such an effort to win her hand, doubtless she would be charmed. Alexander was reassured that Nicholas understood Vivienne so well.

  “And the sentries?” Nicholas asked, resolute as he began to rise to his feet.

  Alexander mused for a moment, then knew what he would do. “I can ensure that they look away, though their inattention will not last long. Move with haste when the bell on the village church tolls at midnight.”

  Nicholas nodded and drew his hood over his head once more. He shook Alexander’s hand with vigor. “I thank you for your aid in this. You cannot guess its import to me.”

  “Be warned that I will have your hide if you fail to treat my sister with honor.”

  The men exchanged a steely glance, then Nicholas turned away, his cloak flaring behind him. By the time Anthony returned with two mugs of ale, Alexander’s guest was gone.

  * * *

  Vivienne was possessed of a new restlessness since her return from Madeline’s new abode at Caerwyn. It was more than the rigor of routine after the adventure of pursuing Madeline and Rhys clear across England with several of her siblings. It was more than missing Madeline, though they two had shared more secrets with each other than with their other sisters.

  It was the smile that Madeline had gained upon her journey that was at root of Vivienne’s dissatisfaction. It was a curious smile, both content and teasing, a smile that Madeline bestowed upon her husband in the most unexpected moments, a smile that claimed Madeline’s lips when her hand stole over the curve of her belly, a smile that turned mysterious when Vivienne asked about matters abed.

  It was a smile that haunted Vivienne, even after she was no longer in her sister’s presence. Madeline knew something - and Vivienne had a fair guess what that something involved - that Vivienne did not. That created a new gulf between the sisters, and one wider than the distance that separated them.

  Vivienne had never been one to take well to mysteries or matters left undiscussed. She had never been able to keep a secret and usually failed to surprise her siblings, for she could not keep from sharing the details of any scheme or gift in advance. And she had never had any capacity for patience.

  She wanted to know what Madeline knew and she wanted to know immediately, if not sooner.

  Vivienne knew that Alexander wished to see her wed, as well, and she was willing to make vows before the altar. She wanted, however, to pledge herself to a man she loved, as maidens and knights loved in her favored tales.

  There were not so many women who smiled as Madeline did. Vivienne aimed to be one of them. She had attended every social event of which she heard tell, she had begged Alexander to accompany her to York and to Edinburgh and to Newcastle, she had met every eligible man with optimism.

  To no avail. Not a one of them had made her yearn to know more about him. Indeed, Vivienne felt little but desperation. She knew that Alexander would not be patient forever - after all, she had already seen twenty-one summers. Time and the right to choose were slipping away from her, like sand flowing through a glass.

  Vivienne had a certainty that there were critical moments of choice in each person’s life, moments which led irrevocably from the most minute decision to events of great import. The moment her parents had chosen to buy passage upon a specific ship had been a decision of enormous consequence. Once they had boarded the ship and set sail, there had been little or nothing they could have done to avoid the sinking of that ship and the loss of their lives.

  The moment in which Madeline had chosen to flee her betrothed, Rhys, had been another of those choices, albeit one which had set a happier sequence of events in motion. Vivienne knew that there must be one such moment in her own life, but as the days passed and no man caught her eye, she began to fear that she missed her chance.

  What if marital happiness could only be found by women like Madeline? As her elder sister, Madeline had always marked an impossible standard for Vivienne to meet. Not only did Madeline do every deed first, but her nature had always been more calm than Vivienne’s own. Madeline was less inclined to make impulsive choices than Vivienne, and seldom had any reason to apologize to another member of the family.

  And worse, Madeline had always been impeccably groomed. Her hair remained in its braid, her veil never slipped, he
r hem never tore. Vivienne was plagued by all three flaws, her unruly hair alone prompting sighs from every maid who had ever been compelled to serve her. Madeline had never lost a glove or a shoe or a stocking, while Vivienne had lost so many that the odds often made new pairs. Madeline had been the echo of their mother, composed even as a child, while Vivienne looked unkempt no matter how hard she tried.

  Could it be that love was only for those women as composed as Madeline and their mother, Catherine? What if men only found tidy women alluring? The prospect was terrifying to Vivienne.

  Hope is a potent elixir, especially for those such as Vivienne who have drunk heartily from its cup, but even Vivienne’s hope began to waver as August evenings took winter’s chill.

  If only she still had the chance to make her choice!

  * * *

  As a result of this fretting, Vivienne had so little appetite at the board on Friday night that her mood did not escape notice. Even the absence of Ross and Malcolm had not diminished the teasing between the siblings who remained at Kinfairlie, and Vivienne was convinced that her three younger sisters had vision like hawks.

  “Do you not want your fish?” Isabella demanded. Already as tall as Vivienne, Isabella had recently begun to grow with vigor, and her appetite showed similar might. “The sauce is quite delicious. I could eat another piece, if you intend to waste it.”

  Vivienne pushed her trencher toward her sister. “Consider it your own.” Isabella attacked the fish with such enthusiasm that she might not have eaten for a week.

  “Did you not like it?” quiet Annelise asked, her concern evident. Annelise was the next youngest sister after Vivienne, the two absent brothers between them in age. “I suggested to the cook that she use dill in the sauce, as it would be a change. It was not my intent to displease you.”

  “The sauce is delicious, as Isabella said,” Vivienne said with a smile. “I am not hungry this evening, that is all.”

  “Are you ill?” Elizabeth, the youngest of them all, asked.

  Vivienne fought her frustration as every soul in the hall turned a compassionate gaze upon her. Nothing escaped comment in this household! “I am well enough.” She shrugged, knowing they would not look away until she granted a reason for her mood. “I simply miss Madeline.”

  The sisters sighed as one and stared down at their trenchers. Even Isabella ceased to eat for a moment.

  “Perhaps you have need of a tale,” Alexander said with such heartiness that Vivienne was immediately suspicious. Their eldest brother, now Laird of Kinfairlie, had played so many pranks upon his sisters over the years that any gesture of goodwill from him prompted wariness.

  “He will tell you of the sad fate of a maiden who refused to wed at her brother’s dictate,” Elizabeth said darkly.

  “At least Malcolm and Ross are not here to aid him whatever jest Alexander might plan,” Isabella said. The maid that the girls shared clucked her tongue, as Isabella had spoken around a mouthful of fish.

  “Ross will be home from Inverfyre at Christmas,” Alexander said heartily. “Doubtless he will bring greetings from our uncle’s abode.

  “Malcolm is too studious to venture the short distance from Ravensmuir, even to visit us,” Elizabeth complained.

  “Uncle Tynan is a demanding tutor,” Alexander said quietly. “You may be certain that Malcolm is too exhausted each night to think of much beyond better pleasing his lord on the morrow.”

  Vivienne stole a glance at Alexander, for he seldom spoke of his experience in earning his spurs beneath Tynan’s hand. He snared her gaze and granted her such a winning smile that she blinked. “What do you desire of me, that you would so court my favor?” she asked abruptly.

  Alexander laughed. “I desire only to see you smile again, Vivienne. I am not the only one who has noted your sadness in recent weeks.”

  “Doubtless though you are the only one who thinks a babe in Vivienne’s belly and a ring upon her finger would see the matter resolved,” Isabella said. The younger sisters rolled their eyes at this notion, their response only making Vivienne feel more alone.

  “He will tell a tale of a maiden made joyous by the arrival of her first child,” Elizabeth suggested and the sisters giggled at the absurdity of that.

  Vivienne did not laugh. She was, after all, the only one who thought Alexander’s scheme had some merit.

  “You know how much I love a tale,” she said to Alexander, sensing that perhaps their motives were as one. “Though I cannot imagine that you know one I do not.”

  “Ah, but I do, and it is a tale about Kinfairlie itself.”

  “What is this? And you never told it afore?” Vivienne cried in mock outrage.

  Alexander laughed anew. “I but heard it this week, in the village, and have awaited the right moment to share it.” He cleared his throat and pushed away his trencher.

  He was a finely wrought man, this brother of theirs, and already Vivienne saw the effect of his recent responsibility upon his manner. Alexander thought now before he spoke, and he spoke with new care, considering his words before he cast them among the company. He treated the servants fairly, and his authority was respected. His courts were reputed to be among the most just in the area, his reputation already rivaling that of their father. He stood taller and was more of a man than he had been merely a year past when their parents had died.

  Her younger sisters, however, were less enamored of the change in him. Once Alexander had been the favored playmate of all, and Vivienne knew that her youngest sister Elizabeth, in particular, resented Alexander’s new role, no less his demands that they all comport themselves with decorum. It was a remarkable change in the one who had been least concerned with proper behavior of all eight siblings.

  But Vivienne knew that it had been no small challenge Alexander had faced since the sudden demise of their parents, and she felt a sudden fierce pride in her brother’s achievement. She did not doubt that there was much he had resolved or shouldered without ever sharing the fullness of the truth with his siblings.

  “You all know of the chamber at the summit of Kinfairlie’s tower,” Alexander began, at ease with every eye in the hall upon him. “Though you may not know the reason why it stands empty, save for the cobwebs and the wind.”

  “The door has always been barred,” Vivienne said. “Maman refused to cross its threshold.”

  “It was Papa who had the portal barred,” Alexander agreed. “I have only the barest recollection of ever seeing that door open in my childhood. I fancy, given the details of this tale, that it was secured after Madeline’s birth, when I was only two summers of age.”

  The sisters leaned toward Alexander as one. Elizabeth’s eyes were shining, for she loved a tale nigh as well as Vivienne. Isabella, who had made short work of the second piece of fish, wiped her lips upon her napkin and laid the linen aside. Annelise sat with her hands folded in her lap, characteristically still, though her avid gaze revealed her interest. Even the servants hovered in the shadows, heeding Alexander’s tale.

  Alexander propped his elbows on the table, and surveyed his sisters, his eyes twinkling merrily. “Perhaps I should not share the tale with you. It concerns a threat to innocent maidens...”

  “You must tell us!” Isabella cried.

  “Do not tease us with a part of the tale!” Vivienne said.

  “What manner of threat, Alexander?” Elizabeth asked. “Surely it is our right to know?”

  Alexander feigned concern, and frowned sternly at them. “Perhaps you demand the tale because you are not all such innocent maidens as I believe...”

  “Oh!” The sisters shouted in unison and Alexander grinned with the wickedness they all knew so well. Annelise, who sat on one side of him, swatted him repeatedly on one arm. Elizabeth, on his other side, struck him in the shoulder with such force that he winced. Isabella cast a chunk of bread at him, and it hit him in the brow. Alexander cried out for mercy, laughing all the while.

  Vivienne could not help but laugh. “You
should know better than to cast such aspersions upon us!” She wagged a finger at him. “And you should know better than to tease us with the promise of a tale.”

  “I cede. I cede!” Alexander shouted. He straightened his tabard and shoved a hand through his hair, then took a restorative sip of wine.

  “You linger overlong in beginning,” Elizabeth accused.

  “Impatient wenches,” Alexander teased, then he began. “You all know that Kinfairlie was razed to the ground in our great-grandmother’s youth.” He pinched Elizabeth’s cheek and that sister blushed crimson. “You were named for our intrepid forebear, Mary Elise of Kinfairlie.”

  “And the holding was returned by the crown to Ysabella, who had wed Merlyn Lammergeier, Laird of Ravensmuir,” Vivienne prompted, for she knew this bit of their history. “Roland, our father, was the son of Merlyn and Ysabella, and the brother of Tynan, their elder son who now rules Ravensmuir where Malcolm labors to earn his spurs. Our grandfather Merlyn rebuilt Kinfairlie from the very ground, so that Roland could become its laird when he was of age.” She rolled her eyes. “Tell us some detail we do not know!”

  “And so Kinfairlie’s seal passed to Alexander, Roland’s eldest son, when Roland and his wife, our mother Catherine, abandoned this earth,” Annelise added quietly. The siblings and the servants all crossed themselves in silence and more than one soul studied the floor in recollection of their recent grief.

  “My tale concerns happier times,” Alexander said with forced cheer. “For it seems that when Roland and Catherine came to Kinfairlie newly wedded, there were already tales told about this holding and about that chamber.”

  “What manner of tales?” Vivienne demanded.

  Alexander smiled. “It has long been whispered that Kinfairlie kisses the lip of the realm of fairy.”

  Elizabeth shivered with delight and nudged Vivienne.

  “Nonsense,” Isabella muttered, but the sisters elbowed her to silence.

  Alexander continued, ignoring them all. “Though Merlyn and Ysabella had not lived overmuch in this hall, there were servants within the walls and a castellan who saw to its administration in their absence.