“I will not be foiled!” he roared and thudded his fist upon the table between them.
Madeline clucked her tongue, chiding him for his show of temper. “And I will not be wed,” she said, her soft tone belying the determination in her gaze. “Not so readily as that. At any rate, you have not the coin in the treasury to offer a dowry, so there is no need to discuss the matter before the tithes are collected in the autumn.”
Alexander spun to look out the window, hoping to hide his expression from his confident sister. There might have been a steel band drawn tight around his chest, for he knew a detail that Madeline did not. The tithes would be low this year, so the castellan had confided in him. There had been torrential rains this spring and what seed had not been washed away had rotted in the ground. He marveled that he had never thought of such matters until this past year and marveled again at how much he had yet to learn.
How had Papa managed all these concerns? How had he laughed and been so merry with such a weight upon his shoulders? Alexander felt nearly crushed beneath this unfamiliar burden of responsibility.
His gaze trailed over the sea that lapped beneath Kinfairlie’s towers and he mourned the loss of their parents anew. He knew that his siblings defied him as a way of defying the cruel truth of their parents’ sudden death, but he also knew that he could not feed all those currently resident in this keep in the winter to come. The castellan had told him so, and in no uncertain terms.
His sisters had to be wed, and at least the two eldest had to be wed this summer. They were all of an age to be married, ranging as they did from twenty-three summers to twelve, but Madeline was the sole obstacle to his scheme.
He pivoted to regard her, noting the concern that she quickly hid. She must guess what it cost him to so change his own nature, to abandon his recklessness in favor of responsibility; she must know that he assumed this task for the sake of all of them.
Yet still she defied him.
“You could at least feign compliance,” he suggested, anger thrumming beneath his words. “You could try to make my task lighter, Madeline, instead of encouraging our sisters to defy me.”
She leaned closer. “You could at least ask,” she retorted, the sapphire flash of her eyes showing that this would be no easy victory. “In truth, Alexander, you are so demanding these days that a saint would defy you, and do so simply for the pleasure of thwarting your schemes. You have become a different man since you were made laird, and one who is difficult to like.”
“I am making choices for the best of all of us,” he insisted, “and you only vex me.”
Madeline smiled with cursed confidence. “You are not vexed. You are irked, perhaps.”
“Annoyed,” contributed another feminine voice. Vivienne tipped her head around the corner, revealing that she had been listening to the entire exchange. Vivienne’s hair was of a russet hue and her eyes were a dark green. Otherwise, she shared Madeline’s virtues and not a few of her faults, including the fact that she also must be wed before the harvest.
Alexander ground his teeth at the slender prospect of succeeding twice in this challenge.
Three shorter women peeked around the edge of the portal, their eyes bright with curiosity. Annelise was sixteen with auburn tresses and eyes as blue as cornflowers; Isabella was fourteen with eyes of vivid green, orange-red hair and freckles across her nose; Elizabeth was ebony-haired like himself and Madeline, her eyes an uncanny green. The sight of all those uncovered tresses—the mark of unmarried maidens—made Alexander’s innards clench.
They were no longer merely his sisters, his comrades, or even the victims of his jests—they and their futures were his responsibility.
“But you are certainly not vexed, Alexander,” Vivienne continued with a smile.
Madeline nodded agreement. “When Alexander is vexed in truth, he shouts. So know this, Annelise, Isabella and Elizabeth, you have not truly angered Alexander until he roars fit to lift the roof.” The five women giggled and that was enough.
“I am indeed vexed!” Alexander bellowed. The sole result of his outburst was that the three younger women nodded.
“Now he is vexed,” said Annelise.
“You can tell by the way he shouts,” Elizabeth agreed.
“Indeed,” said Madeline, that teasing smile curving her lips again. “But still he is a man of honor, upon that we can all rely.” She rose and gave a simmering Alexander a peck of a kiss upon each of his cheeks.
She smiled at him with a surety that made him long to throttle her, for she was right.
“Still he will not raise a hand against a woman.” Madeline patted his shoulder, as if he were no more threatening than a kitten. “I shall wed when I so choose, Alexander, and not one day before. Fear not—all will be resolved well enough in the end.”
With that, Madeline left the chamber, easily gathering their sisters about her. They chattered of kirtles and chemises and new shoes. Elizabeth demanded a story, and as Vivienne complied, their voices faded to naught.
Alexander sat down heavily and put his head in his hands. What was he going to do?
* * *
Meanwhile, some miles down the coast that faces the North Sea, a warrior met with a priest. The warrior was a stranger to all at Kinfairlie and at Ravensmuir, though his quest would soon bring him to those gates. He sought another Madeline, Madeline Arundel, a Madeline who should have been twice the age of the Madeline Lammergeier we have met at Kinfairlie. Alnwyck was the keep where priest and warrior met, and this was the day that a mystery would be solved for the warrior.
Rhys FitzHenry touched a fingertip to the name inscribed in the ledger. After many months of searching, he had finally found his cousin Madeline Arundel.
She had died in the winter of 1398, some twenty-three years before.
Rhys looked out the window of the chapel, blind to the windswept shore beyond these stone walls. It rained, a steady patter upon the roof that cast silver across the sea and coast. But in Rhys’ mind’s eye, he saw his cousin on a summer’s day, daisies woven into her raven hair, her hand clasped in the firm grip of Edward Arundel. They had been young, handsome, and vigorously happy.
His uncle Dafydd had called Madeline a tribute bride, a woman exchanged in matrimony to seal a treaty between new allies, but no one would have believed that Madeline wed Edward out of duty alone. There were stars in her eyes and laughter in her voice: even those two old warriors responsible for the nuptials, Dafydd and Owain Glyn Dwr himself, had smiled at her merriment. Rhys had only been a boy, but he remembered the jubilation of that day well.
Madeline had lived a mere year after that. It was impossible to believe, though no surprise that no one had known, given the chaos that had claimed Wales in those years. Rhys' heart clenched in recollection of the couple’s laughter as they left to rejoin the knight’s family in Northumberland.
One year they had savored together. It seemed far too little for the happiness they had found.
“God bless her soul,” the priest murmured and Rhys echoed the blessing.
He was disappointed, he realized, though logically he should not have been. Though he remembered Madeline only vaguely, though she alone could have thwarted his ambitions, he wished his search might have ended differently.
It would not have been all bad to have found some kin left breathing in these sorry times. The rebellion in Wales against the English crown had plucked the ripest fruit from their family tree, and there were precious few of the multitudes of Rhys’ childhood left living.
With Madeline deceased, he would possess Caerwyn himself. Rhys closed his eyes for a moment, the vigor of his desire weakening his knees. He had grown up at Caerwyn, he had learned to wield a blade there, he had joined the ranks to defend her walls when he had been yet a youth. He loved that keep more than life itself, he had dreamed of possessing her, he had despaired that such fortune could ever come to him.
But against all odds, Caerwyn would be his.
Rhys gave Madeline�
��s name a last caress of farewell, then noted a word he had not seen before.
“In childbirth?” he asked of the priest, fear stirring within him. “Madeline died in childbirth?”
The priest nodded. “I am sorry, my son, but it is not uncommon for women to be lost this way. It was said that her husband, Edward, was devoted to her, and I have no doubt that he procured the services of the best midwife...”
“But what happened to the child?” Rhys dreaded that his search was but partly completed. The child would be a direct descendant of Dafydd. The child could inherit Caerwyn in Rhys’ stead.
He must know the whereabouts of the child!
The priest smiled. “You have uncommon charity for a mere cousin, my son. How kind of you to have a care for your kinswoman’s child.”
Rhys spoke through gritted teeth. “What happened to the child?”
“Perhaps it died as well.” The priest shrugged. “Perhaps the father raised it alone, or wed again.”
“I must know the truth of it!” Rhys shouted and the priest flinched at his vigor. He was immediately contrite. “I am sorry, Father, but the matter is of utmost importance to me.” Rhys swallowed. “This child would be the last living soul of my kin.”
“Of course, of course. Your devotion is most admirable, my son.” The priest ran a fingertip down the ledger and frowned. “No other death is recorded here in that year. I cannot imagine that the babe would have died unshriven if the priest recorded the mother’s demise. There is no mention of a christening, but my predecessor was not always complete in his records. No child was returned to Lady Madeline’s kin?”
“Nay.” Rhys was certain of it.
“How curious. Perhaps it remained here, with the father...” The priest mused as he unfurled the scroll, and Rhys barely restrained himself from snatching the vellum from the old priest’s hands.
“Ah!” The priest granted Rhys a smile. “There is a note here in 1403 that might be of interest. Lady Catherine of Kinfairlie attended the funeral mass for the knight Edward Arundel, who died in battle with Henry Percy.” The priest glanced up. “It is writ that the old Earl of Northumberland wept a thousand tears for the untimely demise of his son and heir, Henry Hotspur.”
“So it is told in the tales I know, as well.”
“But the account states that this Lady Catherine then took the babe of Edward to be her ward, the child’s blood parents both being deceased.” He nodded. “One would assume that the two ladies had been friends, for Lady Catherine to take on Lady Madeline’s young child.” He removed his spectacles and considered Rhys. “Perhaps your kin can be found at Kinfairlie, my son.”
“Perhaps so.” Rhys donned his gloves, knowing his quest was not yet complete. “Where lies this Kinfairlie, Father?”
* * * * * *
The Beauty Bride
is now available in a new edition.
Look for a new series of medieval romances
called The True Love Brides
from Claire Delacroix.
The Renegade’s Heart
is available now.
About the Author
Deborah Cooke sold her first book in 1992, a medieval romance that was published in 1993 under her pseudonym Claire Delacroix. Since then, she has published more than fifty romance novels and numerous short stories. As Claire Delacroix, she has written historical romance, romance with fantasy elements, fantasy with romantic elements and future-set urban fantasy romance. As Deborah Cooke, she has written paranormal romance and paranormal young adult fiction. She also wrote briefly as Claire Cross—the time travel and paranormal romances originally published under that name have been re-released as Claire Delacroix books, while the contemporary romances have been re-published as Deborah Cooke books. She tends to include fantasy and paranormal elements in her stories and likes to write linked series of books. Her stories include a blend of action, adventure, romance, humor and deep emotion.
The Beauty by Claire Delacroix, part of her successful Bride Quest series, was her first book to land on the New York Times List of Bestselling Books. She has been nominated for numerous awards (as Claire and as Deborah), including Publisher’s Weekly’s Quill Award, and has won some, including the Booksellers’ Best Award. In 2009, she was the writer-in-residence at the Toronto Public Library, the first time the library has hosted a residency focused on the romance genre. In 2012, she won the RWA PRO Mentor of the Year Award for her support of aspiring and new writers.
She makes her home in Canada with her family, too many books and too much yarn.
Connect Online!
Deborah’s Website and Blog
Deborah’s Monthly Newsletter
Deborah’s Facebook Page
Claire’s Facebook Page
Book List
Links will take you to the author’s website
for excerpts, copy and buy links.
Writing as Claire Delacroix:
Historical Romances
The Rose Series:
THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE
THE SORCERESS
ROARKE’S FOLLY
The Moorish Series:
HONEYED LIES
THE MAGICIAN’S QUEST
The Unicorn Series:
UNICORN BRIDE
PEARL BEYOND PRICE
UNICORN VENGEANCE
The Sayerne Series:
MY LADY’S CHAMPION
ENCHANTED
MY LADY’S DESIRE
The Bride Quest:
THE PRINCESS
THE DAMSEL
THE HEIRESS
The Bride Quest II
(also called The Scottish Bride Quest):
THE COUNTESS
THE BEAUTY
THE TEMPTRESS
The Rogues of Ravensmuir:
THE ROGUE
THE SCOUNDREL
THE WARRIOR
The Jewels of Kinfairlie:
THE BEAUTY BRIDE
THE ROSE RED BRIDE
THE SNOW WHITE BRIDE
“The Ballad of Rosamunde”– a short story
The True Love Brides:
THE RENEGADE’S HEART
THE HIGHLANDER’S CURSE
Time Travel Romances
(Originally published under the name Claire Cross):
ONCE UPON A KISS
THE LAST HIGHLANDER
LOVE POTION #9
THE MOONSTONE
Short Stories and Novellas:
An Elegy for Melusine
(in TO WEAVE A WEB OF MAGIC)
The Kiss of the Snow Queen
(in THE QUEEN IN WINTER)
The Ballad of Rosamunde
Urban Fantasy Romances:
The Prometheus Project:
FALLEN
GUARDIAN
REBEL
ABYSS
Writing as Deborah Cooke
Paranormal Romances:
Dragonfire:
KISS OF FIRE
KISS OF FURY
KISS OF FATE
WINTER KISS
HARMONIA’S KISS
WHISPER KISS
DARKFIRE KISS
FLASHFIRE
EMBER’S KISS
THE DRAGON LEGION COLLECTION
Paranormal Young Adult:
The Dragon Diaries:
FLYING BLIND
WINGING IT
BLAZING THE TRAIL
Contemporary Romances
The Coxwell Series:
THIRD TIME LUCKY
DOUBLE TROUBLE
ONE MORE TIME
ALL OR NOTHING
Bride Quest II
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Dear Reader...
Index
The Countess
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Author’s Note
The Beauty
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
The Temptress
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Excerpt from The Beauty Bride
About the Author
Connect Online
More Books by the Author
The Bride Quest II Boxed Set Page 103