The Beauty Bride (The Jewels of Kinfairlie) (20 page)

The
abbess smiled briefly. “You should not feel so welcome as to come to my
chamber, nephew. I have indulged you overmuch in this place.”

“I
would have come in this moment with your indulgence or nay. My betrothed and
her welfare is of greater import to me than any condemnation you might utter.”
Rhys smiled at Madeline, the very sight making her pulse race. “How do you
fare, my lady fair? Have you sufficiently recovered from events of this morn?”

He
was suddenly so courteous and charismatic that Madeline did not know what to
say.

“Are
you well?” she whispered.

Rhys
chuckled, claimed her hand and laid a kiss upon her knuckles. “Better now that
I see you again.”

Who
was this man? Had Rhys been struck in the head? He watched her over her
knuckles, and she frowned at him. Why did he not simply tell her what was
amiss?

He
tightened his grip upon her fingers and his lips tightened with what might have
been displeasure. “Is it so difficult to believe that I have yearned for the
sight of your smile in your absence?”

Madeline
parted her lips to confess that it was, then realized that the abbess watched
their exchange with keen interest. She put her hand over Rhys’ and smiled. “I
am but surprised that you make such sweet confessions in the presence of
another.”

Rhys
straightened and pulled Madeline closer to him. She fairly stood within the
circle of his arms, though he continued to merely hold her hands. “It is
charming that you are so shy, though our affection cannot always remain a
private matter between us.” Rhys caressed her hand with his fingertips. “Once
we are wed, all will expect to witness our joy in each other’s company.”

He
bent and inexplicably brushed his lips across her brow. Madeline did not know
what to say or do, she was so astonished by his courtly manner.

The
abbess spoke firmly to Madeline, though her gaze did not waver from Rhys. “Do
not let Rhys force you into a match you do not desire, child. You have fled him
once and come to a haven. I do not deny that he is a forceful man and I do not
deny that men have their allure.”

The
abbess looked then at Madeline. “But earthly temptation and its satisfactions
are fleeting, and I can be as vigilant in defending those beneath my care as
any man. Choose the veil and I will defend you even from my own nephew.”

“And
all this you would do for the reward of the smallest relic from Ravensmuir’s
hoard,” Rhys added quietly. His eyes were narrowed, his usual skeptical manner
restored, though still he did not release Madeline’s hand.

The
abbess’ eyes flashed. “Do not place a price upon good will!”

“Not
even when it has one?”

The
abbess’ nostrils flared and Madeline spoke with care. “You would not be the
first to offer some favor in exchange for a relic from Ravensmuir’s hoard.
Perhaps you should know that access to its treasures is not mine to grant.”

The
abbess scoffed. “Surely you could persuade your uncle to make a donation for
the good of his immortal soul?”

“And
the sustenance of you in this abbey in this life,” Rhys amended wryly.

“Whatsoever
my uncle does with his inheritance is his choice, not mine.”

“Well
spoken, my lady.”

The
abbess flushed as she lost her temper. “You are impertinent, Rhys, as always
you have been! I bid you begone from this abbey!”

“I
will begone on the morrow,” he said calmly. “After my bride and I exchange our
vows and consummate our match.”

“Not
within the walls of this abbey!”

“You
have a priest and a chapel, which suits me well.”

The
abbess shook a finger at her nephew. “You are a rogue and a man who finds
trouble whether he seeks it or nay. You will lead this woman to woe, I know the
truth of it.”

Rhys
shook his head, untroubled by his aunt’s condemnation. “And you forget, Aunt,
that I know you save your harshest words for those who defy your will.” He
granted Madeline a piercing glance. “Prepare yourself for an onslaught of cruel
words, my lady, afore you decline her offer.”

“No
woman of sense would deny me!” The abbess flung out her hand. “What have you to
offer a bride, Rhys? A life at the side of a man with no abode, a man hunted
by the king himself?”

“Caerwyn,”
Rhys said softly, his grip on Madeline’s hand tightening anew. He uttered the
word with all the reverence of a benediction. “My bride will be the Lady of
Caerwyn, as I am its lord.”

“Caerwyn!”
the abbess retorted. “You may dream all you choose, but you do not hold that
fortress as your own!”

Rhys
might have been wrought of stone. He spoke with quiet vigor, though his eyes
snapped with fire. “Aye, I do. And thus I have need of a bride, and thus I have
chosen one.”

“You
do not have to accept this,” the abbess said angrily to Madeline. “You do not
have to believe this fanciful tale. Choose, child! Choose sin or the veil.”

But
Rhys’ words gave Madeline an inkling of how he could have been named a traitor
by England’s land-hungry king. “Is this holding yours in truth?” she asked.

Rhys
nodded. “By Welsh law and custom, it comes fully to my hands upon our
nuptials.”

The
abbess frowned, her manner becoming intent. “But...”

Madeline
interrupted her firmly, not trusting whatsoever the older woman might say. She
understood the choice before her, and understood that it truly was not a
choice. It was not within her to retire from the mortal world and become a
bride of Christ. She could not return to Kinfairlie, given that she had been
alone with Kerr and Rhys this day. Rumor would destroy her reputation. And she
could not wed the man she had chosen herself.

Rhys
had paid the price for her hand and proven his intent to defend her. He had a
home and a title. She would judge him by his deeds, not his shadowed repute.

“I
will make an agreement with you, Rhys.”

He
inclined his head to hers. “Name it.”

“You
say you have need only of sons.” Madeline was well aware of the abbess’ gaze
flicking between them. “There must be more between us than that. I offer you my
loyalty in exchange for your honesty. Whatsoever occurs, Rhys, I will never
betray your trust. I ask only that you keep no secrets from me.”

“And
sons?”

Madeline
nodded, her mouth dry. “As many as God has the grace to grant to us.”

Rhys’
smile flashed with such sudden brilliance that Madeline blinked. “There is a
wager no man could refuse.” Before she could speak, he cupped the back of her
head in his hand and bent to kiss her so thoroughly that she was left dizzy.

His
kiss teased and tempted, it cajoled her to join him. Madeline closed her eyes
and surrendered to his touch, wondering whether his passion was wrought of
relief or a desire to reassure her about their wedding night.

In
truth, she did not care.

When
he finally lifted his head, the abbess made a sound of disgust. Madeline could
not look away from Rhys, though, nor could she seem to draw a full breath. His
eyes glimmered with satisfaction and humor, and that smile lifted the corner of
his firm lips.

“Call
your priest, Aunt,” Rhys said with purpose.

“This
will not be done in my abbey!”

“Aye,
it will.” Rhys granted the abbess a grim glance. “There will be no questions,
Aunt, and no suspicions. Our marriage with be consummated this very night, with
your blessing, and you will witness the mark upon the linens.”

He
was so determined that Madeline wondered. Why was it of such import to Rhys
that their match have no chance of being annulled?

* * *

Something
had changed, Miriam knew it well. She had seen enough of the world before
retiring to this convent to know that men like her nephew did not suddenly
rechart their course. A mere fortnight past, Rhys had had no intent of wedding.
It made no sense that he now professed such a vigorous desire for this bride.

Even
if he had bought her hand at that auction, Miriam could not understand why he
had even offered a bid. To be sure, Madeline was a beauty, but Rhys was not the
manner of man swayed by a pretty smile -- and he had not known the woman long
enough to be certain of her character.

And
Caerwyn! If Rhys had secured his claim to Caerwyn a fortnight past, he would
have crowed his triumph from the rooftops. She knew how much he desired that
holding, knew how often his attempt to secure it had been foiled.

What
could have changed in his days here, near Scotland’s borders? What had he
sought here?

And
what had he found?

The
puzzle missed a piece. Miriam liked to understand how matters fit together, why
people made the choices that they did. She told herself that she had need of
this knowledge to better guide her charges, but the truth was that the only
element of the mortal world that she missed was gossip.

She
watched the sun set, tapping her fingertips upon the window sill. The wedding
ceremony had been unremarkable, as barren an exchange of pledges as she could
have offered to this pair. It had dissuaded neither of them from their course,
but then, Miriam had not expected it to do so.

They
were stubborn, both of them. She shook her head, recalling this Madeline’s
outspoken manner. She would have made a poor nun, at any rate. Perhaps she and
Rhys deserved each other.

Had
Rhys fallen in love, as abruptly as some fool in a troubador’s tale? Knowing
him as the stern warrior he was, Miriam could not imagine as much.

She
drummed her fingers again, knowing she missed some detail that might grant her
a clue. Thomas undoubtedly knew more than he had confessed to her, but that
wily monk was cursedly difficult to interrogate. He would tease her with his
more fulsome knowledge but surrender no crumb of information in the end.

Miriam’s
fingers halted suddenly. Why had Rhys been here a fortnight past? She had
offered him sanctuary in the hope of gaining news, but he had had a mission of
some kind, and he had been characteristically close with the details.

He
and Thomas were of a kind, that was for certain.

But
Miriam’s sister would either know or she could be prompted unearth the truth.
They did not have a strong bond beyond blood, Rhys’ mother and Miriam, for
there were too many years between them, but they shared a taste for knowing
other people’s concerns. Adele would pry the truth from Rhys, one way or the
other, if she did not know it already.

Miriam
smiled, anticipating that her sister probably did not know that her son was a
wedded man - how could she? - and that Miriam could be the one to offer this
delicious tidbit of news to her sibling. It could not hurt to put Adele in her
debt in terms of information shared.

Miriam
chose a relatively unused sheet of vellum, dipped her quill and began to write
a missive to her sister. A runner could leave with the dawn and soon, soon she
would know the truth.

* * *

Whatever
store of charm Rhys might have possessed had obviously been exhausted during
that interview in his aunt’s presence. The exchange of their nuptial vows had
been cursory, at best, the priest distracted, and Rhys feared that Madeline
might be sorely disappointed in the ritual they had been granted.

Afterward,
Rhys stood in the chamber he and Madeline had been allotted, astounded that she
truly had pledged to be his wife, and was completely uncertain how to proceed.

He
knew what had to happen, of course, and he knew how to do the deed itself, but
he had never met a virgin abed. To be sure, he had never coupled with a woman
when there was so much at stake.

Madeline
could still spurn him. She could refuse his affections or dislike his touch.
She could be fearful or cold. She could find him rough and unsavory,
ill-mannered or coarse. This amorous encounter could proceed very badly.

That
Rhys was so anxious that all go well did little to ease his trepidation. How
much did Madeline know of such matters? What had she been told? He watched
Madeline light the candles and found her composed manner difficult to
interpret. He thought that she carried the flame from candle to the next with unnecessary
care, and wondered whether she too was uncertain.

She
lit every candle in the chamber, then extinguished the piece of kindling she
had used to light them with the same thoroughness. She blew out the flame,
dipped the kindling in a pail of water, then plunged it into sand. She looked
about the chamber, as if seeking some other duty to perform, but it was
sparsely furnished.

Madeline
turned to face Rhys only then, only when she had no choice. She clasped her
hands together before herself, but not so quickly that Rhys did not see them
tremble. She seemed to take a deep breath before she offered him a thin smile.