Love's Magic (29 page)

Nicholas shrugged, although he was delighting in her defense of the villagers. Aye, he thought with an inner grin, their children would be warriors. “Sally would have watched you drown in a witch’s test rather than come forward. Your handling of those herbs in front of Father Michael was incredible. You constantly amaze me with you quick-witted thinking.”

She blushed, and the sight warmed him.
He could not have her.

“Thank you, Nicholas.” Celestia lowered her eyes, and he wondered if he’d embarrassed her somehow. Mayhap she was unused to compliments? Impossible!

He sat down on the cushioned trunk at the foot of their bed, his gaze taking in the embroidered pillows. Things that made a keep a home. What would happen to her if he died before achieving his quest?

“Did you hear Beatrice? She said the wise woman told her I was a witch.” She rubbed her arms as if she were cold. Nicholas longed to pull her into his embrace.

“Perhaps I should pay a visit to Grainne Kat—what say you?”

Celestia wrinkled her nose. “I doubt the woman seriously believes I’m a witch, but it’s no secret that Grainne Kat has not approved of me from the first she saw of me. I know that I am not as beautiful as her Maude, but marriage shouldn’t be based on the matching attractiveness of two people, should it?”

Nicholas cocked a brow and looked at his wife, whom he felt was ethereal in her angelic beauty. Was she jesting? Had he been so caught up in his own troubles that he’d not seen a hurt in his wife? “Celestia? Come here.”

She walked toward him, her natural grace evident in the way she held her head.

“Who says Maude is more beautiful than you?”

“Everybody?”

“Give me names.”

She stammered. “'Tis nothing.”

“You mean that you judged her to be more attractive, and so believed everybody else must think so, as well?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“'Tia!”

Nicholas took her hand and led her to the full-length polished silver mirror she’d used as a cloak hanger. He removed the garments and tossed them on the bed. “I want you to look in that mirror and tell me what you see.”

“Nicholas, release my hand—I know very well what I look like.”

He could not believe his ears. How could she be so beautiful and not know it? “Tell me, then.”

“This is strange, Nicholas. We have more important things to discuss than my looks.”

“Nay. Indulge me, Celestia.”

She blew a piece of hair off of her forehead in exasperation. “I have done nothing but indulge you since we met. You are severely trying my patience. Have done,
please!
”

Nicholas turned her shoulders so that she was facing the mirror with him standing behind her. “Then let me tell you what I see.”

She struggled, but he held firm. “I see a woman of delicate stature who carries the weight of the world upon her slim shoulders. A gifted woman, with a loving heart three times her body size.”

She stilled in his grasp.

He caressed her hair, his fingers lingering in the soft locks. “I see a young woman with long, waving blond tendrils—the kind that men dream about having wrapped around them during the night.”

Kissing the top of her head, he continued in a husky voice, “I see a beautiful lady who looks like a fairy princess come to grace mortal man with her smile.”

Celestia held his gaze, spellbound as he stroked her cheekbones with featherlight touches. “Why are you doing this?” she asked in a shaking whisper that came from her soul.

His chest tightened as he finally heard her inner pain. “This is what I see when I look at you. You are worth ten thousand Maudes! Your beauty comes from within and shines throughout, your eyes are beacons of light that cast compassion wherever they land—
look.
”

She did. “But I am nothing like my parents or siblings, and they are beauty to me. You, too, are vibrant and alive in your coloring and features, whereas I am pale and small in comparison. Lord Riddleton even said so.”

Nicholas’s heart stopped for a single beat. “The odious toad?”

She laughed nervously. “'Tis nothing. He said he loved me, he said that I was beautiful, and I thought I could love him to protect my healing gifts. But then he …”

“Yes?”

Her face was hot with remembered humiliation. “He changed his mind. I overheard him say that he would rather have the younger, comely daughter, as the eldest daughter looked like a twig with odd eyes. He made mention, in great detail, actually, of Galiana’s beautiful curves compared to my lack of them.”

Nicholas set his jaw. “And when was this?”

She whispered, “A year past. He was speaking with his friend in our hall and did not see me until it was too late.”

Nicholas’s heart thundered on behalf of his wife. “And then what happened?”

Her eyes widened. “There was an embarrassing display, in which Lord Riddleton called off the engagement, in front of everyone.” She shook her head at the memory. “I was already going to turn down his suit, as I didn’t like his kisses.”

“That’s when he attacked you in the barn. Don’t try to put a ribbon on the tale when it doesn’t deserve one.”

She met his eyes, and he saw gratitude in them. That angered him even more.

Celestia put a hand on his chest. “He didn’t realize I would fight back. I bit his tongue until I tasted blood and ran. I made the mistake of running to my garden instead of directly to my father. Lord Riddleton thought I would be meek and accept him anyway. I didn’t.”

“I’m proud of you.” Nicholas unclenched his tight fists. “You say you had already rejected him? He was getting back at you, that is all. If he could tell his friend that he didn’t want you, then he does not look bad, do you see?”

The heat in her cheeks faded. “I am small …”

“Petite.” Nicholas whirled her around so that they were nose to nose. “You are an angel. Beauty comes in many guises; the differences are to be appreciated. Your sister can be beautiful, and yet so can you. I find that I prefer petite blonds.”

He dropped a kiss on her slightly parted pink lips. “Yet before you get a swelled head from all these compliments, I want to remind you that you are not perfection.”

She inhaled and met his eyes.

“You do have a pointy chin.”

She balled up her fist and punched him in the stomach before capturing his mouth in a shy kiss. “You are not perfection, either, Nicholas. I had thought you were, but I was mistaken.”

“Oh, really?” His heart thumped beneath her palm.

She lowered her eyes. “If you were perfect, Nicholas, you would love me.”

Nicholas knew it was late, but he headed through the woods anyway. He had an idea of where Grainne Kat’s hut was, thanks to a small talk with Shy Sally. He held his torch high, looking for the worn path that had brought the village women to Grainne Kat’s door for years.

She sold simples and small enchantments for love to the women in exchange for food stuffs or coin. Her daughter, Maude, had joined her enterprise. He could think of no reason as to why the two women would try to put the villagers against Celestia.

Grainne Kat had said she’d known his mother. Now that he’d had time to think over what Father Michael had told him, he had more questions for the wise woman. She had to be home. Where else could she be this late at night?

He finally found the path. He parted the low-hanging branches of the maple tree and stepped forward. The trail leading to the back of the hut was dirt-packed from the many feet that had traveled it. There was no fire or candlelight glowing from within, yet smoke curled from the roof.

One would think that the majority of love potions would be sold in the dark.

He walked as stealthily as he’d been trained and knocked on the back door. No answer.

Knocking again, he called softly, “Grainne Kat? ‘Tis I, Nicholas.”

He waited, but his instincts told him the hut was empty. Manners dictated that he should come back in the morning. Residual anger at the fact that she’d been slandering his wife made him push the door open. It wasn’t locked.

Peering into the dark recesses of the hut, he kept all senses alerted to sound.

He jumped nigh out of his skin as Celestia whispered behind him, “Is she not home?”

Turning, he put a finger to his lips. “How did you follow me?”

“I was but pretending sleep. I told you that my family was protective, my lord. If I didn’t want to be left behind, I had to be quick. If you would have slept on the bed, instead of in front of the door, I may have been fooled.” Celestia’s hair shone like moonlight, and he quickly pulled up her hood.

If he would’ve slept on the bed, he wouldn’t be here now. He’d have broken all personal codes of knightly honor, but been a sated man.

“Nicholas, if she is not here, we should not be going inside.”

He ignored his wife and stepped farther inside the hut. She stuck like a shadow to his back.

The glowing embers of a recent fire in the grate gave a soft and eerie light to the gloomy interior. Three rooms had been partitioned off as sleeping quarters, and the central area had a long table with three chairs around it. A basket of sachets, fragrant herbs, and fabric sat by the fire, as if someone had been in the act of filling the simples for sale.

“They were just here.” Nicholas eyed the room again, his gaze pausing over the mantle.

“We should go.” Celestia tugged at the hem of his sleeve.

Curiosity might have killed the cat, but nothing could have dragged Nicholas away from the stone shelf over the fireplace. His heart banged against his chest, and his throat dried. “Dear God,” he muttered, stumbling forward with his hand outstretched.

“What is it?” Celestia placed her hand on the small of his back. “Nicholas?”

Nicholas could not believe what he saw. It couldn’t be. His fingers shook and his breath came in quick bursts. So very carefully, he lifted down a square box covered in royal purple velvet. Amethysts and pearls had been attached for decoration; the seal of King Henry was embossed on the golden handle.

His knees buckled, and he gasped for breath. “Nay. It cannot be.” He stumbled into a chair at the table like a drunken man, his lungs constricting.

Celestia stood beside him, as she placed her cool fingers at the back of his neck. His chest eased.

Tears blinded him as he gently lifted the lid of the box. Blinking, Nicholas saw that it was true. The relic, praise God. Inside, a long finger bone lay nestled within swaths of linen. The bone still wore the ring of Saint James the Apostle.

Celestia gasped. “Nicholas?”

“I thought it had been lost forever.” His heart started to beat again, a painful reminder of his past sins. Was this a sign, at long last, from God and the saint? He wiped his eyes, afraid that the precious relic would disappear yet again from his grasp.

Celestia took his hand. “This is the exact relic you lost?”

Calm pervaded him, and he was able to breathe deeply as he studied the box again. “Nay. It cannot be … The relic I carried had not worn such an elaborate ring. But in my heart, Celestia, I know that this is the true relic. It is a sign that I must return it to Spain. I have neglected my vow, dear God, forgive me. Is it not holy, ‘Tia?”

Celestia tightened her grasp on her husband’s hand. “Aye, Nicholas. It does indeed look holy. But answer me this—if you are holding the holy relic, what then were you carrying to King Richard?”

He released her hand. “You had the right of it. When we were talking with the priest, remember? My father had lost this relic, mayhap my mother hid it from him to keep it within the family, and so when King Richard wanted the relic back, my father had to come up with something false. But he knew that his lie would be caught out.”

Celestia exhaled and stepped back. The words had the ring of truth, and Nicholas had that brooding look on his face that she disliked intensely. It meant that the friendship they’d been building together was about to take another blow. Goose bumps ran up her arms, and the embers in the banked fire glowed brightly. The chill at her nape urged her to flee.

“We must leave, Nicholas, now!”

He didn’t question her, but he wasn’t leaving without the relic. He stuffed the velvet box beneath his cloak. “The way we came?”

Celestia shook her head, her nose detecting the fragrance of wild apples, but she didn’t see any. “Nay! I think there is a different entrance. Quiet, now.” She led the way as if she’d been in the hut before. Grainne Kat’s sleeping chamber had a separate door. “Here …”

She practically pulled Nicholas out behind her, and they found themselves in a small yard. Celestia gagged. Grainne Kat had said that her son, Joseph, had a talent for hunting small animals in the forest and selling the skins at the fair. Skins hung to dry on racks everywhere she looked. She did not deal well with death. “Ah!”

Nicholas covered her mouth with his hand. “Ssh, ‘Tia. It will be all right, but we must leave now. I, too, sense there is danger here.”

She nodded, and he released her. Leading the way, she followed a path that most likely led to the village, but Celestia didn’t follow it. Then they passed a pen of arctic geese, snowy white-feathered birds that came to rest on Scotland’s shores during the winter. The sleeping geese looked docile, but one wrong step could have them squawking like guard dogs.