Love’s Magic

by Traci E Hall

  While she was glad that the knights had burned the pine table in the kitchen, Celestia found that she didn’t have anything for a work surface.

  Gazing at the four stone walls, she wished she’d been more adamant about taking the second wagon. Then she stopped in mid stream; her subconscious was determined to be fair.

  Nicholas had a valid reason for not wanting the second wagon, and mayhap he’d been right. If there had been two wagons, perchance the thieves might not have left until all were killed.

  She hadn’t thought to pack furniture from Montehue Manor, and they’d all been eating in the main hall in front of the fire, seated on various pillows and rolled-up blankets.

  Her chin quivered. I’m horrible, she thought. No wonder Nicholas wanted to leave! She bit her lip until the trembling receded. If hard work was needed, then she was up to the task. By Saint Jude, she was finished with tears. Aye, murder had been done here in this room, and it was true that they had all been avoiding it. But a kitchen was the heart of the home, and the ghosts needed to be purged.

  A chill settled at the nape of her neck.

  Or not. Would that they had cooking recipes, she’d even invite them to stay for dessert.

  Chapter

  Eleven

  She would start with another dose of soap and water, and see if she could remember any of the recipes her mother had tried to teach her.

  Celestia was up to her elbows in suds when Forrester found her.

  “Ye’re busy, my lady, should I come back?”

  Glancing over her shoulder, her rump moving in rhythm with her arms, she said, “Nay, nay—my grandmother says that idle hands are a devil’s helpmeet. I suppose that makes me quite immune to Satan’s wiles today.”

  Celestia tossed the rag into the bucket, well pleased with the gleaming stone floor and the iron pots she had located behind the oven. “I was hoping for a miracle. The men are hungry, and most tired of anything potted or salted.”

  “I’ve set the buck on the spit, for roasting, my lady, and I was just wondering if ye had some extra salt?”

  She got up and nodded, leading the way to some of the packed crates in the main room. “Aye. Salt, dried basil, onion, and,” Celestia dug around until she found what she was looking for, “parsley.”

  Noting the dubious look on Forrester’s face, Celestia flushed. “I’ve got gold plate and fine linens, but no table. I’ve got goblets, but the wine is gone. And, oh, I may as well confess.” She lowered her eyes in shame. “I don’t know how to cook.”

  She waited for his disparaging remarks, but when she raised her eyes, he was nodding with sympathy.

  “No one liked to say it, but me mam wasn’t a cook, either. Me and my brothers had to learn to cook, or learn to love burned stew.” He smiled shyly. “I hate burned stew.”

  Celestia laughed with relief.

  “If you could help me, Forrester, I would be forever in your debt.” She rubbed her lower back. “I am a healer. I can clean and garden and do the scullery work, but God help us all if I have to do anything besides toss a few raw vegetables in vinegar.”

  “You can hire a cook.”

  Celestia stopped laughing. “And where would I find one of those?”

  “There has to be a village close by, no more than a day’s ride, surely.”

  “That is a brilliant idea.” But it spoke of permanence, and she didn’t plan on staying here long enough for it to matter.

  Viola and Bess danced into the kitchen, their expressions playful. After sending a flirtatious nod to Forrester, Bess said, “The entire second floor has been reinforced, and is now as clean as can be. We have beaten the rugs, brushed the draperies, and put fresh linens and rushes in each room. Including the master’s chamber.”

  Celestia blushed. “Oh. Well, I thank you, and for certes, Nicholas will thank you, too.” She was certain of no such thing, but she could hardly share that with her maids.

  Oh, for certes, she could say, I want his love, but he refuses mine, so I am afraid that I will kill him with my anger and adoration? Nay. She’d keep up the pretense that all was well.

  “It will be wonderful to have a real meal,” Bess said, batting her eyelashes. “I saw ye, from the window, making the fire pit.”

  Forrester’s face flushed, and he stared at the floor.

  Viola said bravely, “My lady, if ye would like to prepare for dinner, ye’ll have privacy now.” She pointed to Celestia’s head.

  “What?” Celestia brought her fingers to her hair, remembering the old cloth she’d tied around her braids. “I’m cleaning,” she said defensively.

  “Lady Celestia,” Bess said, grasping her mistress’s hand. “Look at how red and chapped these are; Lady Galiana would have a fit. You have a peasant’s kerchief wrapped around your head, your skirts are tucked between your legs, and your feet are bare. I know that you are working hard, but so is Lord Nicholas.”

  “I think ye lovely, my lady,” Forrester said with bright red cheeks.

  Bess smacked his arm. “A few strokes of the brush, my lady, and ye could remind him of how lovely yereally are.”

  Shouts came from the back, and Forrester hurried to open the kitchen door. Willy shouted, “We have visitors!”

  “Visitors?” Celestia pressed her hand to her belly. She was in no way ready to meet anyone as the lady of Falcon Keep. And the last time she’d heard someone announce visitors, she’d ended up married. Danger.

  Viola plucked the kerchief from Celestia’s head, and smoothed down her tunic. “Cover your toes, my lady. We don’t want them to think ye a maid.”

  “Maid? We have been doing the work of ten maids. Do I have time to change?” Celestia hissed the question between clenched teeth.

  “Nay, here.” Bess reached over and pinched Celestia’s cheeks. “For color.”

  “Are ye ready?” Viola asked, her brow scrunched with dismay.

  “I’ll escort ye, my lady.” Forrester gallantly held out his arm.

  Bess huffed.

  “I’m ready,” Celestia lied. “Wait, a quick prayer to Saint Agatha Hildegard.”

  “Who?”

  “She was a model wife, and I have much to learn. I don’t even have anything to offer anyone in way of refreshment!”

  “They’ll need nothing but water,” Forrester soothed.

  Celestia allowed the young knight to walk next to her as they left the kitchen and walked into the yard. “I forgot, we have a cask of the baron’s burgundy.”

  “I put the last bottle of sweet wine from Montehue Manor in your chamber, but I could get it,” Viola said.

  “So long as we serve our guests outside, we shall be fine, and mayhap they won’t have to know the extent of our … poverty.” The logical half of her brain reasoned that any visitors would be understanding, but marriage had turned her into an emotional disaster.

  “Mayhap they will know of where we can hire some servants. Or better yet, mayhap we can find the former servants from Falcon Keep, and get them to return.”

  Celestia stopped her nervous chatter when she bumped into Nicholas’s back. “I beg pardon … I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  Looking up, she saw the clearest pale green eyes she had ever seen. They were set in an oval face, surrounded by waving locks of ebony black hair. Warm, rosy lips dimpled in a devastating smile that was not directed at her, but toward her speechless husband.

  The woman was beautiful, more beautiful than anyone she’d ever seen before, and considering that she came from a gorgeous family, that was saying a lot.

  Celestia hated her on sight.

  Nicholas could not remember ever seeing a woman of such timeless beauty. She was like a painting in a church, a Greek marble statue, a work of art that left him chilled.

  He knew that he should return her greeting, but he couldn’t move. Her dark hair and voluptuous body brought to mind Leah, with her veiled charms and naked threats. The sling holding her arm to her chest did nothing to detract from her lovelin
ess.

  Celestia fumed at his back, and he was grateful for her presence.

  Petyr filled the void of his bad manners. “Welcome to Falcon Keep,” he said, with a widespread gesture including all of the keep’s inhabitants. “Good day to you! We welcome you, and beg you to not to judge us too harshly.” He grinned. “We arrived but a few days past, and though it may not seem so, we have accomplished much.”

  Petyr used his mythical blond looks to coax another smile from the young beauty, and Nicholas was impressed as his chief knight first bowed to the crone next to the beauty, and lastly to the tall silent man who stood behind his womenfolk.

  ‘Twas obvious that the younger two were brother and sister, so alike were they in their features. Nicholas, following Petyr’s lead, bowed, as well, but it had nowhere near the grace of Petyr’s.

  “I am Petyr Montgomery, chief knight to Lord Nicholas Peregrine.”

  “Le Blanc,” Nicholas muttered low enough that only his people could hear him. He raised his voice, but kept his face a polite mask. “Indeed, welcome, and though our hospitality may be rough, we invite you to stay and dine with us. As you can see, we have plenty.” He slid his glance toward the pit where the venison was skewered and browning on a rack.

  The beauty lowered her eyes shyly, and the crone stepped forward. “Greetings, and welcome to Falcon Keep, Lord Peregrine. I am called Grainne Kat, and these are my children, Maude and Joseph. We bring you a gift of bread and jams.”

  She handed the basket to Viola with a throaty chuckle. “Welcome, mistress.”

  Celestia’s maid accepted the basket graciously. “Our thanks; I’ll give these over to Lady Celestia.”

  The crone pressed, “Ye’re not the mistress?”

  Nicholas watched the fleeting emotions cross his wife’s face. He could tell she wanted to dig her toes in the dirt and hide.

  He compared Viola’s brushed hair and clean tunic with its crisp white apron to Celestia’s garb. ‘Twas obvious she had been interrupted in the middle of some chore. He was about to come to her aid, when she hefted that dainty, stubborn chin and walked forward with her hand outstretched.

  “Welcome, I’m Lady Celestia. Thank you for the lovely jams.”

  She stood regally, and Nicholas cringed as all three pairs of the visitors’ eyes raked over her disheveled appearance. He had never been so proud.

  She kept her gaze steely and refused to flinch, even as the beauteous Maude sought to hide a giggle behind her hand. The crone didn’t try to be polite. “Oh! I certainly didn’t see you standing there, how tiny you are. If I would have noticed you, which I didn’t,” the crone assured her, “I would have thought you a child. But, no, I see now that you are full grown.”

  Smiling, the old woman showed her blackened teeth. “Certainly you are too small to bear sons for such a large knight?”

  Celestia pursed her lips and straightened her shoulders, but Nicholas prevented what might have been a blistering tirade by placing his hand upon her shaking shoulder. “I find her perfection itself, Grainne Kat.”

  Taking the brunt of attention upon himself, Nicholas dipped his head and continued, “And, if I was a man to notice such things, and I am, I would say that you are definitely old enough to mind your tongue—or perhaps such things are not important here in the backwoods of civilization?”

  The old woman’s eyes popped wide, and her son took a threatening step toward Nicholas. Grainne Kat laid a gnarled hand on his arm and gave a hearty laugh. “Oh—that is true, that is true. The backwoods? Indeed, they are, and, no, my good lord, such fancy manners are not needed. Although I know them, and though they be rusty, I shall do my best to remember them. And curb my tongue,” she laughed, a horrible rusted sound, and said, “I beg your pardon, my lady.”

  The old woman tried to curtsy, and Petyr caught her before she fell all the way over. Celestia nodded her forgiveness, sending Nicholas a shy glance that warmed him.

  Nicholas hoped that he had soothed his wife’s ruffled feathers enough that she wouldn’t scorch the side dishes apurpose. He was ravenous for anything besides pickled herring and boiled greens. He answered the thankful glance from Celestia with a jerk of his head toward their guests.

  She sighed, then smiled. “Won’t ye please stay and join us for a bite to eat? Your bread and jam would go nicely with the meat I am sure you can smell roasting.” Her eyelids flickered as if she refrained from accusing them of coming for the food on purpose. “We have been cleaning nonstop since our arrival,” her hesitation conveyed that she resented the interruption, “but we would deeply appreciate your company.”

  Nicholas gave her an approving smile and she discreetly rolled her eyes.

  “If you would sit,” she gestured toward the trio of stumps the knights had been using as chairs, “we will bring out refreshments. I see, Maude, that you’ve been injured? Poor child.”

  Maude bared her teeth in a smile and quickly unwrapped the scarf from her neck. “It’s nothing, a scratch.”

  Celestia, though shorter, managed to look down her nose just the same. “Nicholas, perhaps you could find a way to make some sort of table to accommodate a feast?”

  “Would you like it in the main room?”

  Celestia pursed her lips. “Being as that is the only room that could fit everyone, my lord, it will have to do.” She turned to the side, so that her unwanted guests couldn’t read her lips. “Unless the shed would be too uncomfortable?”

  Nicholas shook his head and playfully pushed her toward the kitchen. “Get to work, wench.”

  As she gave him an exaggerated curtsy, baring her naked toes, he grinned, quite liking his wife—again, damn it all.

  Celestia sipped her wine and wondered why she felt such a ridiculous sense of pride in her position as the lady of the keep.

  The spitted buck was juicy perfection, but she hadn’t done it. Bess and Viola had found some wild watercress growing by the stream, which she’d washed and tossed with oil and vinegar while they boiled and mashed some turnips. The single bottle of sweet white wine from Montehue Manor had been opened, as well as the cask of burgundy from the baron.

  She sipped again, feeling magnanimous enough to admit that the bread and jam were a perfect addition to the first real supper at Falcon Keep in what she’d calculated to be over twenty years.

  Celestia eyed the long table, which was actually the back of the wagon settled on the three stumps from the back of the courtyard and draped with a fine linen cloth. Her family’s gift of silver and gold plates adorned the top, with golden goblets shining in the candlelight. She smiled. Perhaps it wouldn’t be up to her parents’ standards, but it wasn’t bad, considering what she had to work with.

  She tilted her head to the left in order to get a better view of Nicholas. He was eating, and flirting uneasily with their beautiful guest. Nicholas was not Lord Riddleton, and she could tell that he was merely being polite. Celestia couldn’t blame him, she supposed, but it rankled.

  Tightening her grasp on the goblet so that she didn’t throw it at Maude’s dark ringlets, her heart ached at more evidence of Nicholas’s kindness. For a man who did more brooding than a pregnant woman, he was the very ideal of knighthood.

  His valor in coming to her defense today had only deepened her love; he was a man of honor, temperate in food and drink. He worked as hard, if not harder, than the other men. And he was so very handsome. Her pulse jumped in her throat as she watched him lick a piece of meat from his thumb. She narrowed her eyes, irritated, as she saw Maude flutter her lashes.

  Celestia had never backed down from a challenge, and facing a woman who had no qualms over acting the flirt with a man, in front of his wife made her angry enough to scream.

  She’d taken the time to wash and change before eating. She’d brushed her hair out, and it fell to her hips in waves once released from the tight braids she’d worn. Pinching her cheeks, powdering her nose, these were all things that Galiana would make her do. She’d even applied her favorite perfum
e.

  No one had been more surprised than she to find out that she was feminine enough to want to compete with Maude, the fair-faced beauty, for her husband’s attention.

  Picking her favorite blue kirtle and her low-heeled embroidered slippers, she added ear bobs of blue sapphire, which glittered against her hair. A matching ring with a huge stone flashed upon her finger. She had done her best, but her husband had barely glanced her way. He was too busy staying away from Maude’s quick fingers.

  She sighed and popped a candied almond in her mouth.

  Nicholas was saying, “Ah, it was so long ago, I hardly remember a thing.”

  Grainne Kat asked, “What about your mother? Do you remember her?”

  Nicholas drank deep from his goblet. “Nay.” He changed the subject. “I am most curious as to what happened to the people here. The north tower has been boarded and mortared, and the rest of the keep reeks of neglect.”

  “Well, now.” Grainne sucked her rotten teeth. “After your mother died, and the peasants realized that no one was coming to govern them, they stole most everything. Between them and the raiding Scots’ border patrol, this shell is all that is left.” She waved a hand to indicate the mostly barren interior. “It used to be grand, you know. Your mother’s family lived here, afore she married the baron.” Coughing, she added darkly, “He wasn’t a baron, then, though, was he?”

  “Did you work here at the keep, Grainne Kat?”

  Celestia detected the woman’s slight hesitation before she laughed. “Me? Nay, Lord Nicholas. I am but a simple woman who knew your mother. Half-English, half-Scot she was, and all alone here amongst the Scottish folk who considered her a traitor—with the exception of yourself, and you were just a babe.”

  Celestia didn’t care for the crone’s ingratiating laugh. In truth, that laugh was alarming.

  “And if it’s workers that ye need, why I’ve got two for ya, right here,” she said, pointing her gnarled finger to her children. “There’s a small English town along the border, a day’s ride to the west, where ye can find more. By my reckoning, them that wasn’t killed by the raiding Scots fled to the village there.”