Magic in the Stars (30 page)

Theo didn’t know about greeting a Scottish earl bent on
intimidation, but keeping Duncan from falling headfirst down the stairs seemed
the wisest course of action. More than anything, Theo wanted Duncan presiding
over the family and estate again so he could retreat to his scholarly corner, undisturbed.
He had to keep Dunc alive for that to happen.

Reluctantly tearing away from his bride’s radiant beauty—her
eyes were shining so expectantly that shooting stars would dim in comparison—Theo
hurried back to the main corridor.

They were really doing this. Aster was actually marrying
him—provided her father didn’t kill him first. He could barely breathe for fear
he’d bungle these next hours.

Theo tugged at his tight neckcloth before catching Duncan’s
upper arm and steering him to the handrail. “Aster says it’s her father,” he
said. “Can we lock him in the dungeon until the service is over?”

“Lochmas is out there?” Duncan asked in incredulity. “You
dragged the Lion of Edinburgh out of his lair? I think just
hearing
how this plays out should be
sufficient. I won’t need to see it.”

“You know her father?” Contrarily, Theo contemplated
tripping his obnoxious brother and letting him hit the rotunda headfirst for
not providing that tidbit of information.

Duncan shrugged. “We correspond occasionally.”

Below, a nattily attired footman opened the door. Where the
devil had they acquired livery?

“Where is my daughter?” roared the large, black-haired man
shoving past the startled servant. As if possessing a second sight, the
intruder stalked to the center of the circular entrance and glared up the
stairs.

Theo had guided Duncan to the last landing. He pinched his
brother’s arm in warning. “Center floor, on the star. He looks like one of us.”

“Rumor has it there’s an Ives in the woodpile back a century
or so ago. He may be a cousin four or five times removed, nothing to worry
about,” Duncan muttered before turning his blind stare to the spot where the
earl stood. “Lochmas,” he said genially. “We hadn’t expected you.”

For a moment, it was almost like having his old brother
back, and Theo swelled with pride and relief.

“Obviously not,” the Scots earl retorted with a load of
sarcasm. “You didnae have even the courtesy to send an invitation.”

“Papa!”

Theo swung around to watch his bride rushing down behind
them. She’d lifted her skirt to reveal trim, beribboned ankles as she took the
stairs at a reckless pace on heeled slippers.

Theo held Duncan in place, averting collision as Aster dashed
past to fling herself into the earl’s arms. Even the earl looked startled, Theo
noted with satisfaction.

“What are you
doing
here?” she cried excitedly. “I thought you’d promised to take the little ones
to the Highlands for the summer. You know it’s not safe to be near me.”

Guiding Duncan down, Theo listened with interest for the
reply to this.

“Your auntie said you were flirting about this place, and
your mama fretted, so I came to see what it was all aboot.” He set his daughter
back far enough to study her, and his frown blackened at the bruise on her
brow. “What the deuce is this! Have the brutes been beating you?”

She tapped his brawny shoulder impatiently. “Don’t be
ridiculous. I got in the way of a rock. And you may get in the way of worse if
you hang about me for long. But it’s so good to see you!” She hugged him again.

Through eyes black as a moonless midnight, the earl glared
over her head at Theo. “And ye canna protect her from flying rocks?”

“No more than I can stop the rains or keep my damned brother
from trying to break his neck,” Theo replied, leading Duncan down the stairs.
“You want to lock her in a tower?”

The earl’s expression saddened as he hugged his daughter. “You
preach misfortune, lass, and now I hear ye’re wedding without any of us to see
you off! That’s a misfortune if I ever heard one.”

“We were intending to take a wedding journey north,” Aster
said excitedly. “It wouldn’t have been proper to travel together otherwise.”

Theo and Duncan reached the rotunda foyer. The earl
attempted to disentangle himself, but Aster placed herself between them,
holding her father’s hand—presumably to keep him from fisting it.

Theo was grateful for her calming influence. In revealing
his blindness to the outside world, Duncan seemed tense enough to attempt
swinging back if it came to fisticuffs. If Aster handled her father, Theo could
divert arrows to Duncan’s pride.

Sharing, he decided, that’s what marriage was about. Relief
replaced his earlier anxiety. The burden he’d been carrying momentarily
lightened.

“Lord Ashford, this is my father, Adam Dougall, Earl of
Lochmas. Papa, may I present Duncan Ives, the Marquess of Ashford, and my
betrothed, Lord Theophilus Ives. Theo is an astronomer, and he’s told me there
are more planets than in my charts!”

“Is there now?” the earl rumbled irascibly, glaring at Theo.
“And what else does he be telling ye that you think to marry without my
permission?”

“Lady Brianna Dougall and Miss Deidre McDowell,” the footman
announced at the door. “Miss Emilia McDowell,” the servant added after studying
a card. A hasty consultation concluded with, “And Lady Daphne McDowell.”

“Aunt Daphne!” Aster cried, still clutching her father’s
hand but turning to smile toward the new arrivals. “How lovely of you to come!
I so much wanted family to be here.”

“What are they doing now?” Duncan grumbled in Theo’s ear.

“Aunt Daphne is a dauntingly tall lady with a huge bosom
draped in scarves,” Theo whispered. “Even the earl looks cowed. And the vicar
is hovering behind them. Announce that we’re repairing to the drawing room, and
we’ll enthrone you by the fire. I think Aster chose the King George chair for
just that purpose.”

His bride had arranged it so that Duncan’s raw scar would be
turned to the fireplace, and the wings on the massive chair would protect him
from three-quarters of the room, so people would have to stand directly in
front of him to speak. Aster had a way of tending to details.

Duncan snorted in appreciation of her efforts. Theo was so
relieved that his brother wasn’t throwing tantrums that he would have blessed
Aster on the spot had he been a bishop.

“Let’s not linger in the foyer like dolts,” Duncan drawled,
gesturing toward the drawing room. “Lady Azenor, place us where you will. This
is your day.”

“It’s a shame you can’t see the dazzling smile of approval
my bride is casting in your direction,” Theo murmured for his brother’s ears
only. “Or maybe it’s not, because that means you won’t try to steal her from
me.”

“Do I hear cats?” Duncan muttered in return.

Ashford’s hearing had evidently improved with blindness. Theo
cast a hasty look for the culprits. “I believe the lady’s servants have arrived
with trunks and . . .
cats
,”
he confirmed with resignation, noting baskets on the arms of several of the
maids.

Dogs and cats—no wonder her charts were covered in disaster.
Theo cast prayers to heaven and was grateful the fire wasn’t lit.

Still clinging to her father’s hand, Aster took Duncan’s
other arm as they entered the newly refurbished drawing room. “This couldn’t be
a more perfect wedding day if I’d planned it. I am so happy you came down in
time, Papa. You must tell me how you met up with Bree and Dee.”

She cast a glance over her shoulder. “And Vicar Matthews!
You look dashing today. I told Cook to make certain he fixed those scones you
like. You should have brought your wife.”

The vicar had a wife? And liked scones? Theo cast his
amazing bride a look of disbelief. He wanted to ask her how she learned these
things, but he was afraid she’d say she’d read it in the stars.

If she hadn’t been on the other side of Duncan, he’d lean
over and ask her if their wedding day was fated for disaster—because he was
having a damned hard time believing he could keep a goddess.

Uneasily aware that she was playing the part of the
general that Theo called her, Aster saw Duncan seated in the large chair by the
hearth. Even with the raw scar, the marquess looked impressively aristocratic
and confident. It was hard to tell that he couldn’t see anything. Even Emilia
was casting him looks of interest, which was astonishing in itself.

Her father was not so easily disposed of. The earl was
accustomed to thundering through classrooms of cowed students or around a stone
castle that absorbed his roars. A polite, nearly bare, drawing room filled with
women and Ives . . . She took a deep breath to calm herself and
glanced at Theo for reassurance.

He winked. Giddiness bubbled up inside her at the intimacy
of the communication, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or to smack him. He
solved the problem by turning to her father and gesturing at a far corner of
the enormous room. “My lord, perhaps we should step aside while I assure you
that I can support your daughter in the style to which she’s accustomed?”

“She doesn’t need a jackanapes like you for that!” the earl
roared, but he stalked off in the direction indicated.

Wishing she could simply run upstairs and cuddle her pets, instead,
Aster hurried to thank the vicar for coming. She directed him toward Ashford so
the marquess wouldn’t feel abandoned. That Duncan had actually emerged from hiding
to be displayed in public for Theo’s sake was a wedding gift beyond anything
she’d ever dreamed. She had to show him her gratitude.

She left the other Ives brothers to sort themselves out
while she ran to her family, flinging her arms around her stiff and proper aunt
and kissing her on her cheek. “Thank you, thank you for coming! I so wanted
family with me but given my disastrous planets, I was terrified to ask.”

“If these young sprouts could visit without coming to harm,
I saw no reason why I shouldn’t,” Daphne said imperiously, apparently knowing
nothing of the carriage accident. “Your mother would never forgive me for not
seeing that you’re marrying safely. Besides, there are a few additions to the
wedding ceremony of which you might not be aware. This is as good a time as any
to teach the next generation.” She looked pointedly at her daughters.

“Additions?” Aster asked weakly, noticing for the first time
that her aunt had directed a maid to carry in a valise.

“As librarian, you should know this,” Daphne scolded. “Did
you think you could marry without me? The ceremony is in all our journals.”

“Oh, dear, not the druid ritual? Surely we’re beyond that
sort of primitive superstition in these days of enlightenment.” Aster grimaced
as her aunt gestured for the bag and opened it, drawing out a rowan ring.

“Do you think keeping your genealogy charts and journals is
superstition?” Daphne asked indignantly.

“Of course not,” Aster said. “They contain valuable
information. I’m not certain
rituals
are valuable.”

“Do you wish your marriage to be a success?” Daphne demanded
tartly, as if that settled the matter.

Bree and Dee dug into the valise, producing short capes,
another rowan ring, and green candles molded and scented to look and smell like
evergreens.

“The candles are pretty,” Bree said with a decided lack of
enthusiasm. “Shall we set them on the mantel? Light them? Duel with them?”

“It’s enough to set them about, I think.” Daphne gestured at
tables. “It might be dangerous to light them with so many people in the room.”

“Thank all that is holy,” Aster said fervently. “My disastrous
planets have not gone away with a change in location. I’d rather not burn down
the Hall before I’m wedded.”

“And bedded,” Emilia said with a laugh. “Your groom cannot
take his eyes off you, even when your father is roaring like a wounded lion.”

Aster turned to see if Theo needed rescuing. He didn’t even
seem to be listening to her father’s diatribe. He was watching her with a hint
of worry. Tall, lean, elegantly garbed in black and white—although the wayward
hank of golden-brown still fell on his brow—her scientist was all a woman could
dream of.

She smiled reassuringly, and he took a step toward her. Her
father grabbed his arm and dragged him back. Given the level of male posturing
she’d seen in this household, she had every reason to be confident that Theo
could handle the earl.

She took a steadying breath with that realization. She
really didn’t doubt Theo. She doubted
herself
.
Yes, she was angry that he couldn’t accept her charts. But what man would? She
simply needed to convince him. Somehow.

“Did my father wear a rowan ring when he married my mother?”
Aster asked as her aunt shook out a black cape.

“Of course he did. He is a Malcolm, after all. If your
bridegroom wishes to marry a Malcolm woman, he must show his acceptance of our
ways. We are not women to be bullied by society or limited by perceptions.”
Daphne placed the rowan ring over the elaborate curls so precariously pinned into
Aster’s hair.

“All Malcolm men wear capes?” Dee asked with curiosity.
“Will our brother have to wear twigs in his hair? His bride might take
exception.”

“Kenan will have to make his own decision on that,” Daphne
said grandly. “Malcolm men do not happen often, so there is no tradition. The
rowan is a vital tool of our magic, but men do not need to display their power
as much as women do.”

Bree and Dee grinned at the word
magic
, and Aster sympathized, but she was too nervous to argue.
She’d read the journals. She knew their history better than the girls.
Magic
merely covered the inexplicable,
not necessarily the scientifically impossible. Her planets
existed
. Her accurate predictions, however, defied known science.

Rowan, on the other hand, was symbolic of their ancient
heritage only useful for cowing the ignorant as far as she had determined. If
she intended to start as she meant to go on, wearing twigs in her hair would
certainly make a statement of sorts. She just feared it was “the bride is weird”
and not “the bride is powerful.”