Unicorn Bride: A Medieval Romance Read online

  With an imperious snap of her fingers, she summoned a young dark-haired girl from the group clustered outside the door. She was not much younger than Alienor. Her brown eyes sparkled with merriment and goodwill, her expression prompting Alienor’s welcoming smile.

  “Giselle will see to your needs from this day forward,” Iolande said, imbuing the words with a formality Alienor could not have suspected was possible.

  “I thank you for your generosity, my lady,” she replied. To her surprise, something in those blue eyes softened, like snow melting before the spring sun. She wondered what Iolande would say. But one of the women laughed in the hall, drawing the older woman’s attention, and as if she recalled her place, Iolande turned away from Alienor.

  “We await you at the board to break our fast.” Her voice was devoid of inflection and she did not wait for Alienor’s response. Iolande strode from the room, the women in the hall scattering from her path, and the sound of her footsteps faded steadily from earshot.

  Alienor glanced up to see Giselle’s excited expression, and evidently eye contact alone was sufficient to loosen the girl’s tongue.

  “Oh, my lady, I know we should not gossip, but everyone is talking about the wedding and the old servants say that Dagobert was the finest man you ever saw before he took this curse, and you must tell me, you simply must, was he everything you ever dreamed your husband might be?” Giselle spoke without taking a single breath, her eyes shining in expectation while she waited for her lady’s response.

  Alienor parted her lips to answer, her gaze drawn to the unicorn before the hearth. Its yellow gaze was fixed upon her as if it, too, wished to know her reply.

  Could a goat—or even a unicorn—smile?

  Dagobert watched from the far side of the hall as Alienor descended the wide stone stairs to the great room, the unicorn’s silken cord twined around her fingers. The saffron-colored pelisson she wore highlighted her tawny coloring and Dagobert felt a surge of pride that she was his, that she was tall and finely wrought, as gracious in manner as a princess. All stood in the hall before the cursed form of their lord and his new bride, and Alienor dropped her gaze modestly at their deference. Dagobert’s heart was thundering.

  Perhaps Eustache spoke the truth and he was bewitched after a single night with his beguiling bride. Indeed, ’twould be his pleasure to fulfill his mother’s desire for grandchildren. He stepped forward to take the unicorn’s tether from Alienor and bowed before her.

  The company stood at her appearance and Alienor found it disconcerting to be the center of attention in such a large gathering. She scolded herself silently as she descended to the hall. She would have to become accustomed to such pageantry and ceremony, as well as be more aware of what she said and did—no detail would be missed by so many observant eyes.

  Feeling someone’s gaze upon her, Alienor looked up to find the goatherd before her, predictable amusement in the depths of his gray eyes. He smiled, as if to encourage her, while he reached for Dagobert’s tether. She surrendered the silk cord, a tingle launching over her flesh when their fingers brushed. Feeling the color rise over her cheeks, Alienor dropped her gaze and made to step past him, but his words brought her to a stop.

  “I pray I did not mislead you,” he murmured.

  Alienor glanced up in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Did I not say that you had naught to fear from the night?” The intensity of his gaze held her captive as she stared up at him.

  “Indeed you did,” Alienor replied, her voice uneven. What interest did this goatherd have in her conjugal relations? Or was it merely some obsession of these people to constantly discuss such matters, matters that should remain confidential?

  “And did I mislead you?” he insisted, surprising Alienor anew with his audacity. She might have brushed past him, but the sharp focus of his attention convinced her that he was sincere in his concern.

  “Indeed you did not,” she said, surprised to see some of his tension ease. As if he were suddenly aware of her surprise at his interest, he smiled, the abrupt change in his appearance making Alienor’s heart pick up its pace.

  “I would wish you happy, my lady,” he said then with a bow.

  Alienor could only nod mutely, confused as she was by the warmth in his eyes. Someone cleared their throat, recalling her to her senses, and she nodded crisply then stepped past him to take her place at the table.

  “Madame, I must apologize to you for my failure to eat last evening despite the splendor of the meal,” she said to Iolande, ensuring that her voice was loud enough to be heard by others at the board. ’Twas her duty to avoid bringing any difficulties upon her husband’s house and she could think of no other way to rectify her foolish error of the night previous. “The excitement of the nuptials stole my appetite. Today I mean to do justice to your generosity.”

  “I am glad that your health is restored,” Iolande replied, her bright gaze holding Alienor’s for a long moment. Was it a challenge or did she approve of Alienor’s words? Alienor could not begin to guess. Once again, Iolande abruptly averted her gaze, then summoned the servers with a regal wave.

  A quick glance at Guibert revealed that the set of his shoulders had eased and Alienor took that as a sign of her success. The error could not be undone, but she had done her best to rectify it. She glanced sidelong to find the knight Eustache eyeing her with speculation in his steady gaze. Her heart sank with the realization that not all were convinced.

  That gave her the resolve to load her trencher with cold venison, duck, pheasant, boar, an egg soufflé, each and every morsel forbidden for consumption by her faith. The feast the night before had been sumptuous, and so generously proportioned that they savored many of the same dishes again. Alienor felt the eyes of the company upon her, and thought of her husband’s tenderness the night before. She owed him this loyalty, smiling at Eustache before bending to the task before her. Her stomach rolled in silent mutiny as she lifted the first piece of cold meat to her lips and smelled it.

  She could not be mistaken that all the company watched her eat, and only after she had swallowed did the merriment truly begin.

  When the meal was completed and the guests dispersed, Alienor ran.

  The weight of her skirts caught at her knees as she strove to put distance between herself and the keep before she was ill. A cold wind swept over the curtain walls and snatched away her veil and fillet, her loosened hair cascading down her back. Still she ran, leaping over stones in the high bailey as the north wall grew ever closer. Her shoes ground in the last vestiges of snow, and the chill in the air when she reached the wall made her shiver from head to toe.

  As she had suspected, there was a narrow staircase carved out of the heavy stone. The steps led to a tiny sentinel post high on the wall, a post currently unmanned and perfect for her purposes. Alienor climbed to the post and crouched down to ensure that she was out of sight.

  Moments later she took a shaking breath of relief, surprised to see that the land dropped straight down below the sentinel post. Outcroppings of rock far below threw dramatic shadows in the winter sun. The wind that swept up against the walls on this side sent its icy fingers up her sleeves and under the hem of her pelisson. Alienor shivered slightly but sat down against the cold stone, taking gulps of the icy air to regain her composure.

  She had done it! She had eaten of the meat without embarrassing herself and hoped she had allayed any outstanding doubts that could reflect poorly on her husband’s house. She breathed with satisfaction that she had made it this far, unable to speculate whether she could ever repeat her feat even to uphold her husband’s honor.

  The wind lifted her hair, sending it in waves against her cheeks, and she realized, too late, that her veil and fillet were gone. With a grimace, she tugged off her wimple and cast it aside. Her gaze was drawn to the craggy peaks of the mountains surrounding the fortress on this side, as she savored her moment of privacy.

  What a wild and beautiful domain her hu
sband claimed as his own.

  A tread sounded on the stairs interrupted her thoughts and Alienor pivoted to gaze down the stairs. Did someone follow her, suspecting what she had done? Or did she hear a sentry checking this post?

  Her hands rose to her hair. How scandalous ’twould be for any of her husband’s men to see her thus. She looked around the small enclosure, but no veil greeted her gaze in the sentry tower.

  Alienor seized her wimple, managing to drape it around her throat before a man’s figure appeared in the narrow opening of the staircase. His head and shoulders were silhouetted against the sun so that she could not distinguish his features. He paused as if surprised to find her there, sitting on the floor no less, and Alienor’s heart stopped.

  “I thought ’twas yours,” the goatherd said in that quiet murmur of his.

  Relief flooded through Alienor. “’Tis only you,” she said before she could check the impulsive words.

  He chuckled as he ducked into the tiny room, apparently unoffended. “Aye, ’tis only me.” He held out Alienor’s errant veil and fillet, and she accepted them gratefully.

  “I would thank you,” she said, her words breathless beneath his regard. She was keenly aware of his survey of her disheveled state. He crouched against the opposite wall, watching her intently, as she strove to restore her headdress. The sentry post seemed much smaller with the addition of his presence, too small for two.

  She should leave.

  “’Twas rolling across the bailey,” he said, making a circular motion with his finger when Alienor looked up.

  “Rolling?” she echoed, her skepticism undisguised.

  He laughed, a most merry and welcome sound.

  “A fillet so stiff as this one could turn a broadsword aside,” he teased and Alienor laughed along with him.

  She tapped the hard linen circle that held her veil in place before putting it back on her head. “I should hope to never put it to such a test,” she jested, but his gray eyes sobered at her words. He turned and looked pensively at the mountains stretching toward the sky, his lips drawing to a tight line before he spoke.

  “Why did you come here?” he asked, his voice low and his gaze bright.

  Alienor shook her head, unwilling to answer him. She fussed with her headdress in the hope that he would abandon his question. As the silence grew between them and she could do nothing further to adjust her veil, he stepped closer, holding her gaze as if he would compel her to speak.

  Certain that he would not abandon the subject, Alienor took a deep breath and tried to lie. “’Twas merely a short walk,” she began, and made to leave, but he blocked the exit by raising his arm. Alienor met his gaze and he shook his head. He was too close, this intriguing man whose gray eyes sparkled and whose words coaxed her laughter, and Alienor’s pulse raced. She smelled the scent of wind, sun and honest labor from his tanned skin.

  “I would have the truth, my lady,” he insisted.

  “By what right do you question me?” she demanded, her words more sharp than she intended.

  His eyes narrowed at her tone before he glanced away.

  “Should I find your meal on the rocks below if I looked, my lady?” His quiet words were such a surprise to Alienor that she gasped. He watched her with that intensity, but she lowered her eyes.

  Had it been so obvious that she had feigned her pleasure in the meal?

  “You know well enough that you would,” she admitted.

  “Are you Cathar?” The question came quietly, the words shocking Alienor even though she had expected them.

  “How dare you ask me this?” she asked, hoping that he had seen no glimmer of her fear. Before she could continue, he held up one hand for her silence and Alienor was surprised to find herself obeying him. He had such presence for a mere goatherd, and she found herself too aware of him as he leaned toward her.

  “I would never betray you,” he insisted in that low voice and Alienor fought against her instinctive urge to trust him. “But I am sworn to the protection of this house, and I would know if there is any potential threat to my lord.”

  ’Twas a reasonable request and Alienor knew it. Tears rose unbidden to her eyes and she shook her head.

  “I would not bring any disgrace to my lord’s house,” she insisted, tangling her fingers together. “He has been too good to me for such ingratitude.” She flushed at the implication of her words. “’Twas a foolish mistake I made last evening and I wish that I could undo the deed.” She jumped with surprise when the goatherd’s warm hand closed over her fingers.

  “In truth, your performance this morn has fair undone the damage,” he assured her.

  Alienor’s gaze flew to his, relief growing when she saw the sincerity in their depths. “Verily?”

  “I believe I alone observed your hasty departure.”

  “Those are good tidings.” Alienor took a breath to steady herself.

  But why had he noticed?

  “I do not know your name,” she said instead

  He pressed her hand gently before lifting the warmth of his away. “Alaric.”

  “No more than that?”

  He grinned the mischievous grin that she responded to so instinctively. “’Tis all.” He extended one hand to her. “Come, before you are missed. The stairs are steep. I would aid you in your descent.” Alienor accepted his assistance before she realized how much she had revealed to him.

  Alaric.

  As if he understood the reason for her sudden hesitation, he stopped on the stairs below her so that his gaze was level with her own.

  “Your secret is safe with me, my lady.”

  Alienor believed him.

  “Soon the wedding guests will leave Montsalvat and you will be able to eat however you desire.”

  “Truly?” she asked in surprise.

  He nodded. “There are others here,” he confirmed quietly.

  Alienor’s heart leapt. There were others of her creed here?

  Was Alaric himself Cathar?

  Before she could ask, he led her down the steep stairs and she had no choice but follow. The unicorn waited at the foot of the stairs, devouring some early growth.

  “Aye, my lord?” Alaric bent and scooped up the unicorn’s cord, dropping to one knee with an attentive expression as though the beast actually spoke to him. “Indeed?” he asked of the creature with apparent surprise, and Alienor almost laughed aloud.

  “Certainly I will ask the lady of her desire.” Alaric looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye and Alienor could not keep herself from smiling back at him. “My lord Dagobert suggests that he and I give you a tour of Montsalvat. Time it is, he says, that you learn about your home.”

  “And a fine idea ’tis,” Alienor agreed. She was not fooled by Alaric’s charade but was unwilling to lose his friendly companionship.

  Alaric grinned, then bent back down to the unicorn with a frown of concentration. He held up one finger for Alienor’s silence while he nodded thoughtfully. “As you wish, my lord,” he said to the creature, then bowed to Alienor. “Dagobert suggests we visit the kitchens first, in deference to his lady’s needs.”

  Alienor fairly laughed aloud, wanting to swat him for teasing her so.

  “A fine thought,” she replied as she darted ahead of him and gathered the fullness of her pelisson in her hands. “And I shall race you there!”

  Alienor lay back against the clean bed linens, her hair brushed out and strewn across the pillows, her body at ease from the hot bath Giselle had brought her this night. This life was too luxurious, and she marveled anew that it should be hers. Dagobert chewed before the fire burning in the brazier and she watched him through her lashes.

  She noted the falling darkness and felt a tremor of excitement despite her exhaustion. She had so many questions for her husband, so much to tell him, so much to give him. On this night, she would remain awake to see this shape-shifting—if indeed, it occurred.

  Yet Alienor’s eyelids grew steadily heavier despite her r
esolution.

  Alienor awoke to teasing kisses against her lips, recognizing immediately the musky scent of her husband’s skin. The fire had burned low and the room was dark as it had been the night before. She reached up to Dagobert and felt him smile against her lips, the solidity of his rings falling against her breast as she moved into his embrace. His hand slid up her back to grasp a fistful of hair at her nape, his other hand cupping her breast as he deepened his kiss, and Alienor trembled against him.

  “There will be no pain on this night,” he whispered in her ear. She shivered at his breath there, already knowing that she had naught to fear this night.

  “’Tis not fear but anticipation,” she confessed softly, grateful that the darkness hid her flush when he chuckled under his breath.

  “I would strive to please you, my lady,” he growled, nipping at her earlobe and making her smile before his fingers slipped between her legs. Alienor sighed at the surety of his touch. She reached to stroke his face, wanting to know him even better.

  To her disappointment, he moved quickly to trap both of her wrists in his grip. She might have protested, but he stretched her out across the mattress and caressed the slick heat between her legs once more. Alienor began to tingle as he teased her, and she arched toward the shadow that loomed over her in the darkness. She could almost see the glitter of his eyes in the night, then he kissed her and there was naught but the magic he could conjure beneath her own skin.

  “Dagobert,” she murmured some hours later as he tucked her tightly against his side, his fingers fanning out around her shoulder. Fighting her exhaustion, Alienor struggled to one elbow, her tangled hair falling over her bare shoulders and against her husband’s chest as his hand slipped to the indent of her waist.

  “I would talk to you,” she protested when he would have pulled her back down beside him, and he stilled immediately. Alienor felt the weight of his gaze upon her in the darkness. “I have so many questions,” she admitted, wishing he would speak, surprised when the pad of his thumb pressed against her lips and silenced her words.