Before Ainslee could ask what he meant, he was gone. Soon after she had recovered, Gabel had told her of the fate of Kengarvey, and she had assured him that she felt no anger toward him. After the crimes her father had committed, only a fool would think that the lands would stay with the family. All she cared about was that many of her people and all four of her brothers had survived, although it had taken some time to convince Gabel of that. She was not surprised that Elspeth would try to lay claim to the lands. What troubled her was Gabel’s implication that Livingstone wanted
her
as well.
“Curse the mon,” she grumbled as she carefully sat up, going cautiously so that she did not bring on the dizziness that still affected her from time to time. “He tells me to stay abed and rest, then leaves me with words that will prey upon my mind.”
As she carefully slid out of bed and reached for a gown, she decided she could not wait. Now that she considered it, there was only one reason for her sister to want her, and that was to marry her off for gain. The thought of such a thing sent chills down her spine. Gabel had not spoken of love or even uttered any sweet words when he had asked for her hand. She had hesitated because of that, and now regretted it. If she had left Gabel with the idea that she might not accept his proposal, he could easily consider some match that Livingstone put forward.
It took her far longer than she liked to slip on her gown, and she knew she looked a tousled mess, but she began to feel a strong sense of urgency. As far as she knew, Gabel had no reason to refuse her kinsman’s proposal of a match, and she was desperate to give him one. Ainslee knew that marriage to Gabet—if he did not return the love she felt for him in full—could prove painful at times, but it was far preferable to anything else she could think of. It was certainly far preferable to being sold to some man of her sister’s choosing. She would tell Gabel she accepted his proposal, even if she had to crawl to the great hall to do it. All the problems she could foresee could be sorted out later.
Gabel sipped at his wine and studied the man who cautiously sat down next to him. It was evident that Livingstone did not really want to be at Bellefleur, did not wish to chance that he would anger Gabel, but did not have the stomach to refuse his wife. There was probably some of the man’s own greed prompting his actions, but Gabel felt more at ease. He had no intention of giving Livingstone Ainslee or Kengarvey, and now he could see that Ronald was right, that he could refuse the man everything he asked for and not risk more battles.
“You said you would come in a fortnight’s time,” he murmured. “I had not realized that a fortnight had come and gone already.”
“I beg your gracious pardon for my inability to wait, but I began to fear that the weather would soon worsen, and thus keep us from settling these matters until spring,” Livingstone said.
“I am not sure what matters you think we have to settle.”
“Why the matter of Kengarvey and of Ainslee, of course.”
“Kengarvey is mine.”
“Yours? Not all of the MacNairns were traitors to the king. Surely the land should go to those of the family who remained loyal.”
“The king felt I should hold the lands. You may go to him with your claims, if you so wish. I will not attempt to stop you. I am a king’s man and will follow his wishes in this matter. His wishes at this time are that I hold Kengarvey.”
“And who shall be its castelean? Ye canna rule this keep and that at the same time.”
“I have placed a good man there, and with the help of the MacNairns who survived, I believe I can bring Kengarvey back. Aye, and make it even better than Duggan MacNairn ever allowed it to be.”
Livingstone took a long drink as he visibly tried to control himself, then slowly asked, “And what of Ainslee MacNairn? Has she recovered from her injuries?”
“She is slowly recovering.”
“When she is well, m’lord, my wife and I will take her into our care.”
“Nay, I think not.” Gabel smiled faintly when Livingstone gaped at him.
“The king didna give ye her as weel, did he?”
“Nay, but I see no reason to hand her over to you.”
“I am her kinsmon,” Livingstone said in a tight voice as he struggled to hold onto his temper.
“You have ne’er had an interest in her before, so why should you want her so badly now?”
“My wife and I have been fortunate enough to find her a husband. I believe I mentioned that back at Kengarvey. It was not easy, for she is already eighteen and has no dowry. Howbeit, we chanced upon a mon who badly wishes a wife, and is willing to make a settlement It would be a most advantageous arrangement.”
“Aye, for you.”
“And for Ainslee. She canna wish to become a spinster, doomed to be no more than a nursemaid to whatever children her brothers might spawn.”
“I do not believe she will suffer such a fate.”
“This is a good marriage I offer her.”
“Well, I believe I might have a better one—me.”
Livingstone gaped at him again, and set his goblet down with visibly unsteady hands. “Ye wish to wed her?”
“Aye. I have asked for her hand this very day.”
“And what was her reply?” asked Livingstone, watching Gabel closely when he hesitated to reply.
“Her reply was aye,” said Ainslee, entering the great hall in time to hear the exchange.
Gabel did not know whether to be overjoyed or furious when he turned to see Ainslee slowly walking to the head table. She was pale and looked badly tousled, as if she had just thrown her gown on over her nightrail and run out the door. Watching her every measured step, he glanced down at her feet, saw that she had no slippers on, and knew that that was exactly what she had done. What occupied his thoughts far more than her foolish, and possibly dangerous, walk to the great hall, was that she had just accepted his proposal.
As he helped her sit down on his right and silently handed her a linen square to mop the beads of sweat from her pale brow, he thought over what that acceptance had been prompted by. She had guessed Livingstone’s plans for her, and had come down to put a stop to them in the surest way she could. It was not the reason he wanted her to have for accepting his proposal, but he decided he would not argue. He might have doubts about how much of her mind and heart he could claim, but he knew they shared a fierce passion. It was a start.
Even as he kept a close watch on her, Gabel talked to Livingstone. The man tried to argue, but he had to give up at last. Gabel offered him a bed for the night, but, after a curt farewell to Ainslee, Livingstone left. Confident that he would have little further trouble from the man, Gabel turned to look at Ainslee.
“I believe I told you to cease trying to get out of bed. That did not mean rise, dress, and stroll down to the great hall,” he drawled.
“I didna stroll,” she said, wondering if her voice was trembling as much as her legs were.
“Nay?”
“Nay, I staggered. I thought ye would like to hear my answer.”
“I did.” He leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss. “It could have waited.”
“Nay. Weel, mayhaps, but I decided I didna want ye to change your mind.”
“There was no danger of that. Now, I should heartily scold you for using what little strength you have regained to come down here.”
“Mayhaps that could wait.” She smiled crookedly. “I think I had best return to my bed.”
When she did not move, he frowned slightly. “Are you intending to dine first?”
“Nay, I am trying to think of a way to tell ye that I canna move another step, and that ye will have to carry me back.”
Gabel laughed softly and stood up. “You are not going to be a very obedient wife, are you?” he asked as he picked her up in his arms.
Ainslee curled her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulders. “I fear not, Sir de Amalville. There is still time to change your mind,” she said, praying that no such thing would happen.
“There is little chance of that. As you well know, I can cling to a plan with great tenacity. I have but one question—do you say aye simply to chase away Livingstone?”
“Nay, I simply said aye a little faster than I might have,” she replied sleepily.
“Then, ’tis settled. As soon as you have the strength to stand before a priest, we shall be married.”
Twenty-two
“Will you cease your wriggling?” Marie demanded in affectionate aggravation.
Ainslee grimaced and forced herself to stand as still as she could. It had been three long weeks since she had accepted Gabel’s proposal. Everyone was pleased, and had spent the whole time preparing for the wedding. Ainslee began to think that she was the only one who was not completely delighted.
Not once in all that time had Gabel spoken of love. She had told herself that it did not matter, that she had enough love for both of them, and that he could grow to love her. It was all nonsense and she knew it. Such sentiments did not still the fears gnawing at her heart, and she could not make herself believe them, not even a little. She was also badly torn between what she wanted and what she would accept. She desperately wanted Gabel to marry her because he loved her, yet, even knowing she could suffer from that lack, she could not bring herself to stop the marriage. She wanted to be Gabel’s wife too badly.
The hardest thing she knew she would face was that she would still not be able to love Gabel freely and openly. From what little she knew, men who did not love, did not wish to have love thrust upon them. It made them uncomfortable when the woman showered them in a love they could not return. So, even though she would be his wife, she would still have to be careful to hide all she felt. That she feared could become a torture to her.
“At last, you are ready to face the priest,” Marie announced as she stepped back.
Ainslee looked at herself in the tall looking glass hanging in her bedchamber. The blue gown the women of Bellefleur had made for her was lovely. Although she had not regained all the weight she had lost at Kengarvey, she filled it out nicely enough. She did not think she had ever looked so good, and she smiled at Marie and Elaine in thanks. Despite all the doubts and fears plaguing her, she could not help but feel pleased that she would be dressed suitably for the wedding. Gabel was forfeiting a lot to marry her, every advantage a man usually sought in marriage, and she at least wanted to look as though she could serve as the lady of Bellefleur.
“You do not look as happy as I think you ought,” said Elaine, and then quickly eluded her mother’s light slap. “Well, she does not.”
“Marriage is a verra important step in any woman’s life,” Ainslee began, struggling to think of some way to explain the sadness Elaine had sensed in her, and ease the worry both of Gabel’s kinswomen could not hide. “I am but uncertain, Elaine. Within a verra short time, I will take a step that I can ne’er turn back from.”
Marie briefly hugged her. “I know the fear you speak of, child, but you are the most fortunate of women. So many of us must marry the men chosen for us by others. Some of us do not even have the chance to come to know our husbands ere we must marry them. I would think that you must know Gabel very well by now. You were given a choice, and can wed a man you know loves you.”
“Does he?” Ainslee asked, then cursed softly, angry with herself for her inability to hide her own doubts.
“Ah, I see what the problem is,” murmured Elaine. “My stupid cousin has not spoken of love, has he?”
“He has asked me to be his wife. ’Tis a great honor, and I am being most ungrateful to complain.”
“Nay, you are not. He could at least have muttered a few pretty words, and I wager he did not even do that. Men can be so stupid.”
“My sharp-tongued daughter has the right of it,” agreed Marie as she idly smoothed Ainslee’s hair, which had been left to hang free and was decorated with blue and white ribbons. “Put aside your worries, Ainslee. I will not try and convince you that Gabel loves you, for only he can do that, but I assure you that he is not without some deep feeling for you. I saw it when he returned from the river that day. He realized he had erred in giving you back to your father, and he was sadly tormented by that mistake. I saw it while he nursed you. The man spent hours at your bedside. Even when he left your side to work or rest, all could see that his mind and his heart were still with you, still praying for your recovery. Nay, he cares, child. Mayhaps he just needs you to pull the words from him.”
As Ainslee entered the great hall a few moments later and saw Gabel waiting there with the priest, she prayed that Marie knew what she was talking about. She desperately wanted Gabel’s love, but she could find some satisfaction if he at least cared deeply about her. Everything Marie had said indicated that he did have some strength of feeling for her. At times she had glimpsed it in him, but, since she so desperately wanted his love, she had not dared to trust in her own conclusions. Ainslee just wished she had more faith in what other people seemed to see so clearly.
“Have heart, lassie,” Ronald murmured as he stepped up to kiss her cheek.
“I am trying, Ronald.”
“Good lass. Ye are doing the right thing, though I am thinking it may take ye both a wee bit of time to see how right this is.”
She gave Ronald a weak smile as she walked to Gabel and let him take her by the hand. He was looking very much the lord of Bellefleur in his elegant black tunic trimmed with delicate silver embroidery. Ainslee suddenly felt very inadequate. Gabel deserved so much more than a penniless, landless girl with a name that drew only scorn and hatred from others. Some day he had to realize that, and what would happen to their marriage then?
When she met his gaze, she caught a brief glimpse of uncertainty in his dark eyes. It amused her a little that she should find that comforting. As they knelt before the priest, she prayed that she could learn to be happy with whatever Gabel had to offer her.
Gabel drank his wine and watched Ainslee closely. She laughed and talked freely with everyone, but he sensed a reticence in her. When she had joined him by the priest, he had seen a hint of fear and sadness in her eyes, and it made him uneasy. He was willing to try and live with the fact that she might never love him as deeply as he loved her, but if she began to think she had erred in marrying him, he dared not consider how much that would cut him.
“We will try and slip away soon,” he murmured as he took her hand in his and kissed her palm.
“ ’Twill require great skill to leave this crowded hall unseen,” she said, smiling faintly as she looked around.
“Then we shall just leave it swiftly.”
Ainslee laughed when Gabel suddenly stood up, picked her up in his arms, and bolted for the door. Only a few of the people in the hall recovered from their surprise fast enough to make a few ribald comments. She clung to his neck as he bounded up the stairs.
“They will be talking about this for days to come,” she said.
“Ah, well, one likes one’s wedding to be memorable.”
“That escape has assured that.”
She laughed again when he entered the bedchamber they would now share, kicked the door shut behind him, walked over to the bed, and dropped her onto the soft coverlet. Her humor swiftly vanished, replaced by passion when he started to shed his clothes. For a moment she just laid there and watched him undress, his clothes tossed haphazardly around the room. There was an expression of deep hunger tightening his features, and she was quickly infected by his urgency. She rose to her knees and began to take off her own clothes.
Just as she began to undo her chemise, he fell upon her. Ainslee made no protest as he roughly removed the last of her clothes. When their flesh finally met for the first time in far too long she echoed his groan of satisfaction. Their lovemaking quickly became fierce, as they hurriedly tried to satisfy their need to touch and kiss each part of each other. When he finally joined their bodies, she clung to him, easily matching the ferocity of his movements, her passion as hot and wild as his. Their cries of ecstasy blended as they found the release they sought as one.
Ainslee was still panting from the strength and speed of their lovemaking when Gabel rose from the bed. She blushed slightly as he cleaned them both off, then hurriedly curled up in his arms when he returned to their bed. It felt so good to be back in his arms. Even though she had been healed enough for lovemaking before the wedding, he had stayed out of her bed, stealing only the occasional passionate kiss. She snuggled closer to him and decided that, for a little while, she would not think about anything else.
Gabel smoothed his hand over her tousled hair and said quietly, “I had planned to make love to you slowly, with all my meager skills, so as to chase away your doubts with the passion we can share. I thought that, if I could remind you of how special and strong that passion is, you would cease to question how right our marriage is—for both of us.”
“Doubts?” Ainslee cautiously looked up at him. “Why would ye think I had any doubts?” She decided that, since she had chosen to wed a man she loved almost beyond reason but who did not love her, she needed to learn how to keep her innermost thoughts from showing themselves in her face.
“I saw them. Every so often, when I would look in your eyes, I would see, well, an uncertainty, almost a fear. It was there when you took my hand and we knelt before the priest.”
“Marriage is a grave and important step,” she murmured, inwardly grimacing over the inadequacy of her words. It had not been a good enough answer to silence young Elaine, so why should it work to silence Gabel’s questions?
“I know. I suffered from that hesitation as well. ’Tis one that every man and woman must feel when the moment comes to actually say the vows before the priest and before God. What I saw in your eyes was more than that. I cannot believe I am being fanciful.”
Ainslee sighed and flopped onto her back at his side. “Nay, ye are not. ’Twas there,” she admitted, deciding that she simply could not lie to him on their wedding night, the night which began the whole rest of their lives together.
Gabel turned on his side and looked down at her. “Why were they there?”
“Why? Gabel, I have just married a mon who can sit higher at the table than I, and have brought him no lands and no dowry, as weel as a name most people in Scotland consider only good enough to spit on. Ye did look so verra fine, highborn and wealthy, in your wedding finery, and I suddenly felt so verra unworthy, as I have brought ye nothing to repay you for this honor.”
He smiled and brushed a kiss over her mouth. “I need only you.”
Her heart skipped a little, for there was definite feeling behind those words. “Ye might have eased some of my fears and doubts if ye had said a few such pretty words when ye asked me to marry you.”
“They are more than just pretty words, Ainslee. I would not try to beguile you with empty flatteries,” he said as he slid his hand down to her stomach and lightly caressed her. “I am not very good at flattery anyway. ’Tis odd, but I feel as if you want something, and I am failing to give it to you. You must know that I will give you most anything you want.”
“Ask and I shall receive?”
He shrugged. “Aye, within reason.”
“Then I want ye to love me.”
“That is no challenge, for I do already.”
The tension that had knotted Ainslee’s stomach as she had made her demand left her so swiftly, she needed a minute to regain her breath. She felt as if someone had just punched her in the stomach, very hard, and wondered how mere words could hold such power. “What did ye just say?”
Gabel eyed her warily as she sat up. “I said that your request was easy to meet, for I do love you.”
Ainslee cursed and shoved him down on the bed. Still cursing softly about the idiocy of men, she straddled his body and stared at him. It surprised her a little that the words she had waited so long to hear, had so wanted to hear, should make her so angry. The confusion of emotion she labored under also tied her tongue. There was a great deal she wished to say, but she found herself unable to speak.
“When I finally got the courage to speak my heart, I did not expect you to look as if you want to throttle me,” Gabel said, his uneasiness growing when she just stared at him without speaking for several minutes.
“Actually, I was wondering if I really want to put the pillow o’er your head until ye cease to breathe. Howbeit, I might enjoy it now, but I think I would regret it later.”
“That is a comfort to know. Why have I made you angry?”
Placing her hands on either side of his head, she leaned down to look him straight in the eye. Slowly, her thoughts were becoming clearer, and she felt she could speak coherently, not simply babble about how stupid and inconsiderate men could be. Since she knew that Gabel was neither, she was glad she had been briefly shocked into silence. She certainly did not wish to reply to his unadorned declaration of love with insults.
“How long have ye kenned that ye loved me?” she asked.
Tentatively, unsure of just how angry she was, he lifted his hands and began to smooth them up and down her slim back. “Since I saw you cross the river that day.”
“And yet ye have ne’er considered the possibility that I might wish to ken this wee bit of information?”
“Ah, I should have told you sooner.” Gabel felt his spirits rise as he realized what had angered her. Ainslee would not be so furious about his lengthy silence unless he had been holding back words she had been hungry to hear.