The lady Madeline was perfect.
She was the proper age to be the surviving child of Rhys’ cousin Madeline Arundel. She shared her mother’s coloring and her mother’s name. Her supposed family were so anxious to be rid of her without a dowry that they resorted to this vulgar practice of an auction, something no man would do to his blood sister.
And Rhys had to admit that he liked the fire in this Madeline’s eyes. She was tall and slender, though not without womanly curves. Her hair was as dark as ebony and hung unbound over her shoulders, her eyes flashed with fury. Rhys had seen many women, but he had never glimpsed one as beguiling as this angry beauty.
A single glimpse of her had been all it had taken to persuade Rhys that buying Madeline’s hand was the most effective solution to his woes.
After all, with Caerwyn beneath his authority, he would have need of a bride to have an heir. And wedding this woman, if she indeed proved to be Madeline’s daughter and the sole competing heir for Caerwyn, would ensure that no one could challenge his claim to the holding. He did not fool himself that he had sufficient charm to win the hand of such a bride any other way. Rhys had no qualms about wedding his cousin’s daughter, if Madeline proved to be that woman. In Wales, it was not uncommon for cousins to wed, so he barely spared the prospect of their common blood a thought.
Indeed, she would be compelled to wed some man this night, and Rhys doubted that any would grant her the even-handed wager that he was prepared to offer to his bride. Rhys had to believe that he could grant a woman a better life than that offered by her family or this irksome boy, Reginald.
Marriage was a perfect solution for both of them.
And so he bid.
And so the chamber fell silent.
It was as simple as that. Madeline would be his.
Rhys strode forward to pay his due, well content with what he had wrought.
The young Laird of Kinfairlie responsible for this foolery spoke finally with vigor. “I protest your bid. You were not invited to this auction and I will not surrender my sister to your hand.”
Before Rhys could argue, Tynan granted the younger man a poisonous glance. “Did I not warn you that matters might not proceed as you had schemed, Alexander?”
Alexander flushed. “But still...”
“The matter has passed from your grasp,” Tynan said with finality. Rhys knew that Tynan would indeed have cast him out if Rosamunde had not vouched for his character. The lady Madeline had some souls concerned for her future, at least.
“You cannot claim her!” Alexander cried. “I will not permit it.”
Rhys smiled a chilly smile and let his gaze drift over the younger man. “You cannot stop me. And you cannot afford to exceed my bid.”
The young laird flushed crimson and stepped back with a murmured apology to his sister, which Rhys thought long overdue.
Rhys then turned to the huffing Reginald Neville. “Have you no more coin?”
Reginald’s face turned red and he threw his gloves onto the floor. “You cannot have that much coin!”
Rhys arched a brow. “Because you do not?”
Anger flashed in the boy’s eyes. “Show your coin before we continue. I insist upon it!” Reginald flung out his hands and turned to the assembly. “Can we trust a man of such poor repute to honor his debts?”
A murmur passed through the company and Rhys shrugged. He sauntered to the high table, removing a chamois sack from within his leather jerkin. The lady caught her breath when he paused beside her and Rhys studied her for a heartbeat. Her eyes were wide, a glorious simmering blue, and though he sensed her uncertainty of him, she held her ground.
It was not all bad that she was as aware of him as this. He liked the glitter of intelligence in her eyes, as well as the fact that she had tried to halt this folly. He was accustomed to women who spoke their minds and a bride who did as much would suit him well.
He smiled slightly at her, hoping to reassure her, and she swallowed visibly. His gaze lingered upon the ruddy fullness of her lips and he thought of tasting her, knowing then how he would seal their agreement.
But first, the agreement had to be confirmed.
“You need not fear, sir,” Rhys said coolly. “I will owe no debt for the lady’s hand.” There were more than enough gold coins in his sack, but Rhys was not anxious to flaunt his wealth. He cautiously removed only the amount necessary, and stacked the coins upon the board with care. Tynan bent and bit each one of them to test their quality, then nodded approval.
“Then, have her!” Reginald spat in the rushes with poor grace and stormed from the room. His gallantry, in Rhys’ opinion, was somewhat lacking.
There was utter silence in the chamber as Rhys reached out and laid claim to Madeline’s hand, such silence that he heard her catch her breath. His hand was much larger than hers and her fingers trembled within his grasp.
But she did not pull her hand from his and she held his gaze steadily. Again, he admired that she was stalwart in standing by the terms of agreement. He bent and brushed his lips across her knuckles, feeling her shiver slightly.
Alexander placed a hand upon Rhys’ arm. “I do not care for convention and broken agreements. You cannot wed my sister—you are charged with treason!”
Rhys spoke softly, not relinquishing the lady’s hand. “Do not tell me that the Laird of Kinfairlie is not a man of his word?”
Alexander flushed scarlet. His gaze fell upon the stack of coins and Rhys knew that he had desperate need of those funds.
He leaned closer to the boy, the lady’s hand yet firmly clasped in his own, and dared the new heir of Kinfairlie. He would show the lady, at least, what manner of man her brother was. “I will grant you a chance to rescind your offer, though it is more than you deserve. Reject my coin, but solely upon the condition that the lady shall not be sold to any man.”
It was clear that the younger man struggled with this decision. He appealed to his sister with a glance. “Madeline, you must know that I would not do this without cause.”
And he reached for the coin.
“Cur!” she cried, her scorn matching Rhys’ own. Rhys turned to her, his breath catching at the fury that lit her expression. “Take it then, Alexander! Take it, for whatever debts you have, and reject whatsoever loyalty Papa might have thought you owed to your siblings.”
Alexander’s hand shook slightly as he claimed the coins. “Madeline, you do not understand. I must think of the others...”
“I understand as much as I need to understand,” she said, her words as cold as ice. “God save my sisters if you think of them as you have thought of me.”
“Madeline!”
But the lady turned her back upon her sibling, her bearing as regal as that of a queen, her gaze locking with Rhys’ own. He saw the hurt that she fought to hide and felt a kinship with her, for he too had been betrayed by those he had believed held him in regard.
“I believe there is a meal laid to celebrate our pending nuptials, sir,” she said, her words carrying clearly over the hall.
Aye, this bride would suit him well. Rhys lifted her hand in his grip and bent to brush his lips across her knuckles in salute. She shivered and he smiled, knowing their nuptial night would be a lusty one.
“Well done, my lady,” he murmured, liking that she was not readily daunted. “Perhaps our agreement should be sealed in more fitting way.”
A beguiling flush launched over the lady’s face and her lips parted as if in invitation. Rhys gave her hand a minute tug as the company hooted, and she took a pace closer. He could fairly feel the heat of her breath upon his cheek and her own cheeks flushed. Still she did not look away, though her breath came quickly in her uncertainty.
Rhys entwined their fingers, then lifted his other hand to her face. He moved slowly, so as not to alarm her, well aware of her uncertainty. She would be a maiden, without doubt. It would not do to make her fearful of his touch. Rhys tipped Madeline’s chin upward with his fingertip. Her flesh wa
s soft beyond belief, her valor admirable. He smiled slightly, saw a spark in her eyes that reassured him as little else might have done. This was no fragile maiden who would fear her own shadow.
Rhys bent and captured Madeline’s sweet lips beneath his own. To his satisfaction, the lady did not flinch, nor did she pull away.
Aye, this was a wife who would suit him well.
Chapter Two
Rhys’ kiss was more gentle than Madeline had anticipated.
Indeed, his kiss fairly melted her bones. An intoxicating heat rolled through her, the pressure of his lips against hers making her yearn for more. He smelled of wind and rain and leather, altogether masculine and alluring.
Yet he was gentle with her. And patient. Madeline knew that he coaxed her caress, that he believed her to be innocent, and though she guessed it to be his intent, her fear of him faded like night at the dawn.
Truly, the man could addle the wits of any woman with a kiss like this. Madeline had never guessed that such pleasure could be launched from such a gentle caress, nor had she imagined that she might become a willing participant in this embrace.
But then, circumstances were most uncommon. She was angry and hurt and knew not which way to turn. That she should be consoled by a complete stranger, a stranger she would be compelled to wed against her own volition, was beyond belief.
No less that he would console her with a kiss.
Her heart had nigh stopped when she had guessed what he would do, then it had raced when he touched her chin. A measure of her resistance had melted with the softening of his expression, and she did not doubt that he knew as much.
Then his lips had claimed hers and she found herself beguiled. Her anger with Alexander was forgotten in a trio of heartbeats, her curiosity about his sudden need for coin faded to nothing.
The sole thing of import was Rhys’ gently persuasive kiss. Madeline would never have guessed that a man so stern of appearance could grant such a seductive caress. The very fact of it made her wonder what manner of man he was truly, whether his garb and manner belied his true nature.
When Rhys lifted his head, there was a twinkle in his dark eyes, a twinkle as alluring as his kiss. His grip was tight upon her fingers and he seemed to be drawn taut, waiting for her response as the arrow waits to be loosed from the bow.
As if he cared whether she was pleased.
Madeline was breathless and disheveled. She found her hand upon the breadth of his chest, her fingers knotted in the lace of his leather jerkin, and she did not know what had overcome her.
Then she met his bemused gaze and understood the danger of this man. Rhys had undermined her objections to this unconventional match, and he had done so with a mere kiss. The threat of this man was not in his repute but in his ability to make her ignore what she knew.
He was a traitor wanted by the king. He was a man of dark deeds and considerable coin, which Madeline doubted had been earned with honest labor. Madeline dared not cede to the passion he conjured so readily as she had done just this moment.
She had need of time. Somehow, she had to escape both Alexander’s scheme and Rhys’ intent. But she could not think when her wits were so addled as this.
Madeline forced a smile. “I would have the nuptials on the morrow,” she said, hoping her calm tone hid her intent to evade those marital vows. She let her lashes flutter to her cheeks, as if she were far more demure than she was. “I would have a night to prepare myself.”
“It is reasonable enough,” Tynan said firmly when Alexander might have protested. “Madeline has confronted more surprises this day than any soul could expect.”
Madeline, for her part, could scarce draw a breath, so aware was she of Rhys’ avid gaze upon her. He seemed to peer into her very thoughts, to guess at the root of her hesitation, and she felt a strange compulsion to confess that she had no desire to wed him.
She would have refused to wed him outright, had she known why Alexander had such need of this coin, had she known that he would not then promptly offer Vivienne’s hand for auction. After all, there was a willing company already gathered.
“I invite you all to celebrate this agreement at the board!” Tynan declared. The men cheered and began to make their way to the hall, the smell of roasting meat tempting them to hasten. Madeline heard barrels of wine being rolled into the hall, and a woman from the kitchens shouted that there was ale aplenty for all.
“Do not do that!” Elizabeth cried suddenly. She pointed over the heads of Madeline and Rhys. There was nothing there that anyone else could discern.
“Elizabeth, that it is enough about such nonsense,” Madeline said firmly, having no patience in this moment for her sister’s ridiculous talk about fairies.
“It is not nonsense!” Elizabeth swatted with such vigor that she nearly hit Madeline. “That fairy is knotting your ribbons!”
“What ribbons would those be?” Rhys asked.
“The ones it wove together earlier, of course,” Elizabeth said impatiently. “Your silver one and Madeline’s golden one. But now it knots the ribbons into a most fearsome tangle, and it laughs.” She gave Rhys a somber look. “It is not a nice laugh.”
“I would expect not,” he agreed with equal solemnity and Madeline knew that he must think her sister mad.
“Halt!” Elizabeth swung her fist again at the invisible foe and Rhys ducked in the nick of time. “Cease your mischief, little fairy! I do not know what those ribbons mean, but your deed cannot be a good one.”
“Elizabeth, cease your mischief!” Vivienne retorted, seizing her youngest sister by the arm. Other people were beginning to look askance at Elizabeth and more than one couple whispered, undoubtedly about the girl’s odd behavior.
Madeline parted her lips to agree with Vivienne, then had a thought. Would Rhys insist upon wedding her if he thought her mad, as well? No man could desire a wife who might give him tainted children.
Perfect! Here was her means of breaking this agreement.
“Indeed,” Madeline said, without another moment’s consideration. “You will injure the fairy with such gestures, and that would scarce be wise. They are said to be vengeful if wounded.”
Elizabeth gaped at her, clearly astonished that someone took her cause. “You can see it?”
“Do you feel well, Madeline?” Vivienne asked.
“Of course I feel well. And of course I can see it!” Madeline smiled at her astonished family. Rhys watched her with care, his eyes narrowed. “What is amiss with the eyes of all of you? It is right there.” And she pointed to the right, high over their heads. All turned to look, then glanced back at Madeline.
“No, it is over there,” Elizabeth corrected with scorn, pointing in the opposite direction. The family turned again, then considered the two sisters with open skepticism.
“So it is, it moves so quickly for such a small creature.” Madeline laughed merrily, then patted Elizabeth’s shoulder as if they two shared a jest. “It must be those golden wings that grant it such speed.”
“It has no wings,” Elizabeth fairly growled. “I would wager that you cannot see it at all.”
Truly, Elizabeth could have been of more aid in this! Madeline gripped her sister’s shoulder. “Perhaps you have not looked closely enough to see its wings,” she said with resolve. “I see that it has little golden wings. And bells upon its toes. Indeed, it is quite a beauteous little fairy. It might befriend you, Elizabeth, if you ceased trying to strike it.”
Elizabeth granted Madeline a dark glance. “It is the most ugly creature that ever I have seen, and it is cruel besides. You should understand as much, seeing as it is knotting your ribbon with such malice.” With that, the younger sister put her nose in the air and marched toward the great hall.
Madeline watched her go for a moment, then summoned a bright smile. “Of course, I had forgotten the ribbons,” she said gaily to her family.
“Perhaps because you cannot see them?” Vivienne suggested.
“Is it not said
that the fey appear differently to the eyes of each mortal?” Madeline said, wishing someone who shared blood with her might be of assistance on this day. “Who can say what scheme this one has to appear so loathsome to Elizabeth?”
“Who indeed?” Rhys murmured, then laid claim to her elbow. “Shall we proceed to the hall, my lady?”
“Look! The little fairy is on the end of your nose!” Madeline laughed and pointed at Rhys’ nose. “Can you not see it?”
“Nay, I cannot,” he said. “But perhaps I am merely hungry.”
“Oh, there it flies, its little wings flashing!” Madeline laughed like a lunatic, and all but Rhys quickly put some distance between themselves and her. “Oh, it is entangled in the ribbons. How amusing!”
Rhys made to lead her from the hall, apparently untroubled by her manner.
Madeline pulled back from his grip to meet his gaze. “Are you not concerned that I see creatures that you do not?”
He shook his head. “The fey show themselves where they will. Indeed, it has been said that it is a gift to see them. Perhaps you will bring fortune to my days, my lady.”
Madeline grit her teeth, irked that he could find merit in her ploy. “I have never heard of madwomen bringing good fortune to their spouses—quite the opposite, in fact.”
“That may as well be,” he agreed easily. “But you are no more mad than me.”
“But my sister...”
“Has an uncommon gift, it is clear, as might you. I have no concerns with kin who can see the fey—quite the contrary, in fact. Come, the meal awaits.”
Madeline gaped at her betrothed, uncertain what to make of his manner. This warrior believed in fairies?
He spared her a sudden glance, his eyes twinkling so merrily that he might have been another man than the stern one who had won her hand, and her heart skipped again.
How much else did she not know about Rhys FitzHenry?
Madeline’s sisters closed ranks around her as they made their way noisily to the great hall, and she was separated from Rhys. Vivienne gripped her right hand, her characteristic merriment dispelled. Annelise held fast to Madeline’s other hand, and was uncommonly quiet even for one known to be quiet. Madeline assumed that Rhys had gone on to the hall and indeed, she was glad to have a moment with her sisters.
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