A Witch's Tale (26 page)

The
queen and her ladies helped her dress, giggling and joking all the while. She
felt nervous to know she would take her vows within the large cathedral before
all in attendance that evening. She felt aggrieved Minerva was not there to see
it.  The gown fit like a glove, she was relieved to see, standing in front
of a looking glass and turning this way and that.

Tillie
pinned the elaborate twelve foot train until she made her way to the cathedral.
A golden mesh veil was applied and all looked delighted once she was ready.
Madeline feared her nerves were a jumble as she waited to be sent for.

Her
spirits were low despite the great honor she received. She knew the cause. She
felt she lost a piece of herself by marrying Rohan now, knowing her heart bled
for another. What future she envisioned before this day began was not how it
was to end. Seeing Lady Strathmore reclined upon the pillows of her bed only
reminded her of what caused it all.

Her
blue eyes were determined as they met her reflection. Today she was a witch no
more, but a lady in truth. It was time she put aside her magic and embraced her
future with Rohan. Still, as the ladies left her alone to wait for her summons,
she felt lost.

The
change in her destiny was swift. It made her realize she could expect more
grief should she ignore what her magic had wrought. It was easy to blame her
magic now that Rohan no longer stood in front of her and mocked her continued
feelings for Gavin.

Madeline
bit back a sob to know she’d used spells to gain the man’s love. The one she
placed on him that morning came to mind, before he left for the
tournament.  She reasoned it was that love he believed he felt that
allowed him to win today. She should be glad for that now. The thought of him
marrying Strathmore’s daughter made her ill; knowing how he deserved better.

Her
thoughts grew dangerous then, realizing what she proposed was a contradiction
of her decision to cease to do magic. No, one last spell was called for. Gavin
could not possibly marry Lady Lucinda. She had the power to change that, if not
her own fate.

A
devious light entered her eyes as she retrieved her bag. She found bits of his
dark hair in her comb. She closed her eyes, summoning the spell to release him
from the betrothal.

Words
made in haste, denied in pride, give Lord Rivenhahl choice of bride

She
blew across the burning tray, pleased to know the spell would release Gavin
from having to marry Lady Lucinda. King James would merely change his mind, as
he was known to, and allow his loyal subject the choice. It came too late for
them, she knew, as she cleared the evidence away. A knock was heard at the
door. It was a royal page, sent to accompany her below. Tears filled her gaze
as she followed the young boy.

****

Madeline
bowed her head with Rohan as the vows were said, her hand trembling in his as
the blessings were made. Over two hundred guests filled the cathedral to see
her marry the baron of Rothford, Lord Rohan de Warren. She hadn’t seen Gavin or
his men among them, grateful when she walked down the aisle on the king’s arm.

Rohan
looked as handsome as sin in the black velvet surcoat with golden braid. The
snowy white shirt was in sharp contrast against his sun-darkened skin. His pale
hair gleamed under the tapers as he repeated his vows in a strong, sure voice.

She
stole a peek up at him and wavered over hers, her words stumbling until she
reached their end. The thunderous applause as the marriage was declared made
her tremble as her new husband claimed his kiss, boldly raising her off her
feet.

Rohan
kissed her so thoroughly to the delight of the onlookers the priest tapped him
on the shoulder and cleared his throat deliberately. He set her down and stared
down into her dazed features, his dark eyes meeting hers with promises gleaming
in their depths.

Madeline
was led away to the feast that followed; the married couple guests at the
king’s own table. She ignored her bridegroom until he leaned near her ear,
making her shiver as his hot breath sent an unsettled feeling down her nape.

“You
will be happy to know de Mortaine no longer has to wed Strathmore’s cow of a
daughter.”

“What
do you mean?” she asked, pleased, keeping her expression bland purposely. “What
has happened?”

“It
appears Lady Lucinda was caught with her father’s squire in a rather awkward
position earlier this night,” Rohan remarked with a delighted chuckle. “He is
to be given a choice of any lady here in attendance for his bride. The king
demands he choose before tomorrow. He moves among the crowd as we speak,
looking for his bride among them. Does that please you enough to know he has a
choice now?”

Madeline
smiled, tears in her gaze. It did please her, even knowing it could not be her
he chose. It was right he have some say in this. So much was out of his own
control from the start. He should be able to select his own wife, even hastily.
She hoped he chose well.

“He
deserves to have that and more,” she replied without sadness. “After what his
family endured, it is fitting.”

“We
leave for Rothford in the morning,” he informed her. “I would inspect my new
holding before we go on to my home.”

“We
go to Ireland?” she asked in surprise, her eyes swinging to his. “But I thought
we would live there.”

Rohan
smiled coolly as his eyes traced her lovely features. “I have been away from my
home far too long to ignore my responsibilities, Wife. We stay there for a time
until we make the move to Rothford. It is my hope you will resign yourself to
our marriage before we neighbor de Mortaine.”

Madeline
simmered to know this man made her choices now. She had little say in anything,
even where they would live. He took her to Ireland deliberately to keep her
away from Gavin, she knew.

All her
life, she’d been her own mistress, beholden to no man. Now she was to be
dragged wherever Rohan took her. He took her hand and brought it to his lips,
kissing the back of it with lingering lips.

“I
took liberty to instruct your servant to pack for you, sweet wife,” he
whispered. “You’re to come to my room this night.”

Madeline
felt her heart beat unsteadily at his words, denials springing to her lips. She
ground her teeth to know she had little choice. This man was now her husband.
Pain filled her heart to know she wouldn’t have all she wanted when she left
this place. Her dreams had not come true. It was some consolation to know Gavin
would have his choice of bride. She was glad she would not be here to see him
wed another.

“The
king has been generous with you, my lord,” she replied softly, ignoring his
words. “You’ve gained much to lose this day.”

Rohan
shrugged, his dark eyes moving over her with amusement. “Does being my
consolation prize make you so unhappy, Madeline?”

“I’ve
given it no thought,” she denied, refusing to meet his teasing eyes.

“Sweet
liar, your words betray you,” he whispered. “We both know who you would have
wished in your bed this night. I will enjoy changing your mind of it, come
morning.”

She
flushed at his heated words, her reminder of the wedding night looming making
her uneasy and slightly over warm. Rohan seemed to like to torment her, knowing
what they shared in the barn mocked her feelings for Gavin. She was glad Rohan
had not seen fit to throw such in Gavin’s face.

“You
are my husband,” she countered coolly. “I can hardly deny you.”

Rohan
laughed mockingly and nipped at her fingertips. “We both know you would lie
again; sweet wife. The memory of your prior denial of me makes me hasten to
retire. Get you to my rooms. I will have your servant sent to you to prepare.”

Madeline
left the hall with every bit of dignity she could muster, avoiding his gleaming
dark eyes. She held her head high, following a servant to Rohan’s room.

****

Alastair
followed Gavin about the crowded hall, eyes peeled for anything in a skirt. His
amusement to help Gavin find a substitute bride drew scowls from his friend. He
was relieved he wouldn’t have to marry Lady Lucinda, but frustrated he must
choose one here tonight. He was resistant to enter the feast after Madeline’s
marriage.

He
knew Gavin was miserable to lose Madeline to Rohan. He could see the look of
longing in his eyes as he saw her with her new husband seated with the king.
The unforeseen circumstances made him disinterested in selecting his bride now.

“Must
I do it for you?” Alastair snapped under his breath as they walked among the
guests, pasting a smile for those they passed. “Try to appear as though you
care who you marry tomorrow.”

“I
don’t care!” Gavin bit back and glared at his companion. “Any one of them would
suffice. Why give me a choice when the one I want belongs to another?”

Alastair
grinned at his surly tone. “I see it as the king’s way of apology, my lord. Be
lucky Strathmore’s daughter was disgraced in the nick of time. You have a
choice now. Quit your sulking and look at these lovely ladies.”

Gavin
gazed about him, each hopeful lady they passed reminding him he must make a
choice. They smiled and went out of their way to draw his notice. Some more so
than others, were ridiculous and outrageous trying to draw his eye. He felt
none of Alastair’s relief. He didn’t have to marry the woman come tomorrow.

“You
do the choosing then, since I have no stomach for it,” Gavin decided and left
the proceeding, stalking away from the hall without a backward glance.

Alastair
continued on, weighing and assessing each lady he passed. He acted as if he
chose for himself, encouraged Gavin would accept whomever he selected for him.
He sighed as he looked the hopefuls over. He was sad Gavin and Madeline were
denied one another at the last. The king’s proclamation was done because of
Madeline’s lack of background, he knew, and for no other reason.

The
king would not honor his most loyal knight by saddling him with a baseborn
wife; mores the pity, his friend would have welcomed it, as besotted as he was
with Madeline. He paused as he made it to the end of the hall, a flash of
something catching his eye.

He
perused the fair-haired beauty across the way with a pleased look. She was quite
beautiful with her golden hair and ivory skin. She appeared to be arguing with
her male companion, an older man he supposed was her father.

Her
obvious spirit as she looked up at the golden-haired nobleman intrigued him.
She was of small stature, petite, and curvaceous in all the right places. He
decided to move in for a closer look. Gavin might at least have a pretty wife
if he couldn’t have his fiery witch.

The
girl was young, perhaps eighteen or so, of a marriageable age for certain. She
was too busy arguing with her sire to note the dark-haired man who drew near.

 
The great white witch
you have not seen?
Then, younger brothers mine, forsooth,
Like nursery children you have looked
For ancient hag and snaggle-tooth;
But no, not so; the witch appears

“I
would like to retire, Father,” Lady Jocelyn Carlisle said in a seething tone.
“I have had enough of this for one day.”

Lord
Henry Carlisle glared down at his daughter. “You had best do as your bid, Girl!
I came to be rid of you. It is fitting de Mortaine seeks a wife! You will seek
to appeal to the man or so help me; you will regret it!”

Jocelyn
eyed her father bitterly. “The man has about as much a taste for this as I do!
He’s left the hall, or hadn’t you noticed? Your ploy has gone in vain, Father.
Either he’s made his choice or he doesn’t care who the king would choose for
him.”

“Kindly
lower your voice,” Henry said coldly and glared at his only daughter. “We
wouldn’t want anyone to hear what a little ingrate you are, Daughter. You’ve as
much a chance as any here to draw the man’s eye. It would behoove you to do so.
I know you care not for your alternative. You wouldn’t like a nunnery,
Jocelyn.”

“What
I want is to go home and forget all of this!” the girl cried under her breath,
her violet eyes filled with anger and tears.

“You’ve
offended my wife enough as it is,” Lord Carlisle said in disdain. “Sybilla
wants you gone. I’ll not have any more strife in my home. You will wed one way
or another, but you don’t come home. If I were you, I would try to appeal to
Lord Rivenhahl.”

Jocelyn
stewed as she looked about the room for the man, resistant to marriage
altogether. Her father’s new wife wanted her out. She was to be dropped at a
nunnery if she failed to ensnare a husband. The pain of his treatment sickened
her.

Since
her mother’s death, the elder Carlisle met and fell for a woman half his age.
Lord Lunley’s sister was pretty, if not ugly on the inside. She had her
grieving father besotted and fooled now, carrying his long-awaited heir, she’d
assured him. For that he would do anything the woman said, even abandon his
only other child for her.

Jocelyn
knew she would not go home on the morrow. He would make good his threats to
leave her at the nunnery on the way home. Marriage might not appeal to her, but
either did a cloistered life, swathed in black frocks.