A Witch's Tale (25 page)

“You
need not rub the matter in, Alastair. It kills me to see her go to Rohan,”
Gavin remarked sadly. “Think well before you leave here. Don’t let pride keep
you from approaching the duke now.”

“What
would be the point in it?”

“Your
future, for one,” Gavin pointed out with anger blazing in his gaze. “Being a
retainer to me can hardly be the extent of your goals, my friend.”

“Leave
it alone, Gavin,” Alastair replied moodily and drank, fuming into his ale.

“How
much opportunity do you let slip away the longer you hesitate?”

They
were joined by the other knights then. Miles and his noble father came to sit
with them. Alastair had no chance to respond. Seeing Miles and his father
drinking and joking together made him look away, his dark eyes going to the
main table where Monteith sat with the king and his family. The man looked over
at that moment. Their eyes met and held briefly. Alastair looked away first,
unwilling to draw the man’s attention.

Gavin
saw the frown on Monteith’s face as his gaze lingered on Alastair. The
recognition on his face was unmistakable. Alastair was the man’s mirror image.
The speculation had already circulated within the king’s court that Monteith
was his sire. The man looked like he might take matters upon himself, even if
his friend seemed unwilling to pursue it.

Gavin
saw Monteith never looked away, clearly aware his illegitimate son sat across
the hall from him. Judging from the man’s keen look of interest, Alastair was
wrong in his assessment. It was not long before the duke’s page approached. The
duke requested Alastair join him later for a private audience.

Alastair’s
lips twisted as the young boy left. “It appears news travels fast here.”

“One
need only look at the two of you to know, my friend,” Gavin said with a grin.
“Do you a favor and meet the man and find out what he wants. You know you want
to.”

Alastair
didn’t reply, refusing to think anything of it. What was the point of it now?
He wouldn’t offer for Vivienne. They had no means and no home now that the king
gave it to Rohan.  They rode for Rivenhahl after the coronation. Alastair
and the men went on to the keep in Scotland to prepare all those there for the
move to England.

 “Rohan
wastes no time in claiming his bride,” Alastair commented pleasantly, good natured
despite his lord’s loss of Madeline.

“I
think he feared the king would change his mind,” Gavin replied darkly and
glared into his tankard. “He will regret this. I tried to get him to relent and
wait, not force this issue so soon to allow Madeline to grow used to the match
and give her time. He would not listen to reason.”

Alastair
grinned then. “I think it is safe to say your witch will greet the man with a
spell in hand this night.”

Gavin
shook his head at the thought. “I think we can both agree the man is in for a
surprise when he claims her. She can be most difficult when she wants to be.”

“We
talk of your witch, my lord. She’s going to him kicking and screaming and you
know it.”

Gavin
looked angry he had no say in the matter. “I do not wish to think of this
anymore. Tomorrow she leaves with Rohan.”

Alastair
rolled his eyes at his friend’s melancholy. “At least you can keep an eye upon
the man with Rothford only miles away.”

“I
think the less I see of my fair witch, the better.”

“In
truth, my friend; this is what is meant to be. You knew the king wouldn’t allow
you to wed Madeline as soon as he offered her. You had a choice to lose too, my
lord.”

“You
are right. I could have lost, but it was not within me to do so. Even for her,
I could not do that to my family,” Gavin said with remorse in his expression.
“Knowing Rohan is beyond the hedgerows at Rivenhahl does not please me.”

Alastair
knew Rohan would forget his loss when he took Madeline as his wife. She was a
force of nature. He pitied the new baron now, knowing her as he did. She wasn’t
used to being told what to do at all. No, Madeline did the telling. She would
make Sir Rohan question whether he was blessed, or cursed this day.

“Let
us drink to the happy couple,” Alastair said to all with a smirk and tipped his
tankard. “We drink to their health, or Sir Rohan’s, I should say.”

“Poor
bloody bastard is in for it,” Jasper was heard to murmur; Gaston seconded his
words.

Gavin
tilted his tankard, his face filled with sadness to know in a couple hours, his
fair witch would marry Sir Rohan de Warren.

You must
break the shell to bits, for fear,

The
witches should make it a boat, my dear,

For over
the sea, away from home

Far bny
night the witches roam.

~Anonymous.

Madeline
was awakened by Tillie when the royal seamstresses arrived. The queen’s
giggling ladies arrived soon after. She was told to stand upon a stool,
measured and prodded as they fitted her for the wedding gown.

It was
made of ivory satin with iridescent seed pearls sewn into the bodice. The trim
was gold braid, the sleeves wide and flowing. The gossamer silk underskirts
were of gold silk. Madeline swallowed hard to see the beauty of the garment, in
awe as it was held up for her inspection. Knowing she would marry Rohan in a
matter of hours gave her some concern the gown would be ready in time.

She
was assured by all they would work on it all afternoon to have it done. She saw
the ladies and seamstresses out. In the melee, Lady Strathmore slid out the
door and was down the stone stairs before Madeline could catch her. She
muttered a curse as she returned to her rooms to worry over the cat, now loose
within the palace. Gerwin never roused during her fitting, snoring contentedly
from the bed.

Madeline
was still worrying over Lady Blythe when there was a knock at the door. She
approached and opened the door. Rohan was leaning in the doorway, a pleased
grin on his face. He appeared a bit tipsy as he entered the room. He kicked the
door shut behind him.

Madeline
glared at his pleased, arrogant expression. “What is it you want, Sir Rohan?
You appear to be into your cups.”

“Cups?
We dispensed with cups and went with full pitchers hours ago,” he told her with
a hearty chuckle, his dark eyes glassy. “I trust you are well, lady?”

“They
just fitted me for my wedding gown,” she said and avoided his gaze, still
unable to believe they married in a matter of hours. “I am very well,
considering.”

Rohan
reached out unsteadily and touched her cheek. “The marriage hardly pleases you,
I know. Can you not try to accept this?”

“I
never thought to marry,” she said truthfully. “It is all quite a shock.”

“I
know nothing about you, Madeline,” he said softly, his eyes tracing her face in
reverence. “I should like to learn one thing before we marry.”

She
looked up into his handsome face and stiffened from his expression of
possessive jealousy now. “What is it you wish to know?”

“Did
you love de Mortaine?” Rohan asked his dark eyes filled with dismay to await
her answer.

“I
do not see that matters anymore.”

Rohan
glared down at her. “Answer the question, Madeline. I would know your
thoughts.”

“Yes!
I love him! Are you happy to know you marry a woman who loves another, Sir
Rohan?” she asked bitterly, her blue eyes filled with tears.

Rohan
flinched at her words. “You will love him no more after this night,” he
commanded with flashing dark eyes. “You are mine! After what happened in the
barn, I think you confuse your feelings for the man.”

“I
might have no choice but to marry you, but you cannot make me forget him,” she
vowed and glared up at him. “I think you confuse what happened in the barn more
than I.”

“We
shall see,” Rohan said and his dark eyes clung to her lips. “I look forward to
that challenge, sweet one. You will regret offering it to me.”

Madeline
cringed to know their wedding night was hours away. Rohan would claim her as he
had in the barn; making a mockery of her words she loved another. She
stubbornly refused to accept the lust that blazed between them was anymore than
that, just lust. What she felt for her valiant knight was true and good. This
dark-eyed man would never claim her heart.

  “I
shall always love Gavin,” she bit out harshly. “Know that now. Your challenge
is an empty one.”

Rohan’s
handsome face filled with anger. “I will enjoy making you regret such words,
Madeline. You will be my wife! Can you not see the man never meant to offer you
more? Why do you persist in keeping him between us?”

“Your
offer to take me away with you was any better than his?” she jeered. “Did you
offer marriage then, Sir Rohan, or more of the same?”

Rohan’s
lips twisted bitterly. “You will never know that now, will you?”

Madeline
wasn’t able to answer him. Lady Strathmore did instead, mewling at the door
plaintively. Madeline stepped away from Rohan. She opened it and glared down at
the unrepentant feline, seeing her new furry suitor slinking away down the
stone stairs. She frowned down at the cat as she flounced into the room,
purring in obvious contentment.

Whatever
guilt she felt for turning the noblewoman into a cat was fleeting as she
watched her sprawl in abandon in front of the fire to groom herself. She paid
Gerwin little heed, hissing at him when he came near. Her cat swished his tail
in annoyance and tried another approach, earning a swat from his fickle lady
then.

“I
will leave you to think on that, Madeline,” he told her, smiling arrogantly.
“We both know de Mortaine will not be in your thoughts this night when I come
to your bed.”

She
bit back an angry retort as Rohan took his leave, blowing her an insolent kiss
at the door, his dark eyes amused before he left her. She fumed to know he was
right. Despite her assertions she loved Gavin, she couldn’t deny the passion
and lust felt with Rohan.

Soon
Gerwin gave up trying to woo Lady Blythe and returned to his nap upon a small
settee nearby. Madeline was dismayed she could do so little to curtail the
animal’s natural tendencies and keep her from mating with the palace strays.

Madeline
was grateful the ladies had trays of food brought during the fitting. She was
famished and knew she couldn’t get through what lie ahead without eating
something. She thought of her father’s family then. Lady Agnes could hear of
this. Her hope the lady forgot her husband’s bastard over the years was
short-sighted.

Madeline
hoped but found it unlikely the lady forgot anything. If Lady Agnes lived and
learned of her marriage there would be consequences. She realized her fears
were silly. Who would ever believe Minerva’s granddaughter was a baroness? If
any heard her former name, they would think it a mere coincidence. Still,
thoughts of her half brother and two half sisters worried her.

The
present Viscount of Lunley was as mean spirited as his two older sisters,
Sybilla and Mary. Lord Robert was three years older than her. Her memories of
him were not encouraging. He was oft times cruel to her when they were
children, enjoying tormenting her.

It
was only when she cast the childish spells upon him then did he leave her
alone. After young Robert broke out with unsightly, itchy dark spots and grew
hair in places no hair ought to be, did he leave her be.

The
oldest of the three Lunley children; Lady Mary learned well to leave her little
sister be. The older girl was to have wed that year. Due to Madeline’s spells,
most of her suitors were sent running from her in horror. Madeline placed a
glamour spell upon the girl.

When
her suitors looked upon her they didn’t see the pretty blonde, but a horrid
creature in their minds. Mary left her alone, knowing her father’s child with
the servant was the cause of her lack of offers.

All
three bore her ill will, their mother even more so. Madeline felt uneasy by
such a lavish royal wedding this evening, fearful her father’s family would
learn of it and make trouble. She cursed telling the king of who her father was
now, too stunned to think to lie at that moment. Or maybe she saw a means to
get what she wanted then, which was to be a knight’s lady in truth. Only time
would tell if the news travelled to Lunley. Overwrought of the evening ahead,
she sought a nap to escape her turbulent feelings, distressed to know she could
find no way out of this debacle.

She
was awakened by Tillie as her bath reparations began. Madeline felt annoyed to
be so pampered. Not one part of her body failed to be scrubbed, buffed,
slathered in scented oil, or denuded of hair. She colored to know such was a
noblewoman’s habits, grimacing as her legs, arms, and other secret places were
unmercifully waxed.

Tillie
brushed her hair until it gleamed in luster, falling to her waist in dark red
waves. The hair was then painstakingly pinned and curled until Tillie was
satisfied with the result. The maid would not be dissuaded from the artful,
elaborate arrangement, considered slighted to do any less.