A Knight and White Satin

by Jackie Ivie

  “Tell them I’m ill,” Payton replied. “It came on sudden-like.”

  “If you are unwell, My Laird, that woman will be at your side. In your chamber. Or she might have you moved closer to hers which would be worse.”

  Payton groaned.

  “’Tis na’ as bad as before. We have the wife with us. She carries your bairn. I told them of it. ’Twas verra entertaining to watch faces. ’Twill be even more so at the sup. When they meet her.”

  “But…she hates me,” he replied.

  “Your treatment these last two days would warrant that. Go change it. Nae, wait! Don your champion attire first. Then, go see to her.”

  “What makes everyone think I’ll just dress and appear for them…like a puppet?”

  “’Tis the price for these rooms, and this welcome, and our safe escort to Edinburgh. And ’tis the price of your fame. That’s why.”

  Payton looked across at his man with exactly the same blank look he was getting. It didn’t change it. Nothing did. He decided he hated being the champion, as well.

  “Bring me the sett. I’ll wear it.”

  Redmond nodded. “Dugan is bringing it. If he manages to make it here without one or more of your followers attached to him with force akin to a leech. You think it an easy task to be near you?”

  “’Tis worse being me. By far.”

  “Fair enough. Which is why you’d best make a bargain with the wife. A-fore they summon us to the fest. Long a-fore.”

  “I would rather bargain with the devil than my wife,” Payton replied.

  “Then take this.” Redmond held out a large brass key with a shiny silver ribbon tied through the handle.

  “Where does that go? And nae. Dinna’ tell me. I doona’ wish to hear!” Payton put his hands over his ears for dramatic effect, but still heard it.

  “The widow Meryck’s chambers. When the watcher calls midnight. Doona’ be late.”

  “Damn your bloody hide, MacCloud!”

  “Cease cursing me, and approach your wife. I’d wait until you’re dressed, though. And a bit less angered. She’ll be more apt to listen to entreaties.”

  Payton sat onto the edge of his mattress, felt the give in the feathers as it absorbed and settled under his weight, making it hard and lumpy, and then dropped his head into his hands.

  “What if she will na’ assist me?” he asked the floor.

  “Convince her.”

  “What if I fail?” he asked.

  “I would most appreciate it if you do,” Redmond replied.

  “What?” Payton raised his head.

  “The bargain was na’ just for you, Payton Dunn-Fadden. If you doona’ arrive at that chamber at midnight, someone will have to.”

  Redmond flushed again.

  “Jesu’, Mary, and Joseph, but I hate this castle,” Payton said.

  Chapter 13

  Lady Evelyn slept deeply and peacefully in the chamber she’d been given on the other side of Dallis’s own. She had Bronwyn’s message to thank for that, and then she dismissed the servant back to Lady Evelyn’s side. Her aunt deserved her sleep. She wasn’t young, and although she’d undergone this journey without complaint and without slowing anyone, her years were telling on her. She’d said she felt weak. She needed the rest.

  Or so, Bronwyn repeated.

  Dallis suspected Lady Evelyn just wanted her niece to be alone with her thoughts. Because she deserved them.

  She didn’t have to be alone. She’d had a trio of servant girls chattering and working and hovering and making the space alive with chaos until Dallis’s head ached worse than the pain their administrations had created.

  That was the reason she’d dismissed the trio of servant girls, and not just the damage they’d done to her appearance. After assisting her with the drying of her hair with a fluffing of rough towels guaranteed to make each strand crackle and fly about, they’d started teasing and twisting and looping great ropes of hair about her head, as if that sort of style was appealing. Dallis watched them at it in the chamber mirror and ignored them. And then one of them pulled a vial of something from her pocket and poured some on her hand as if Dallis Caruth allowed a concoction mixed without her knowledge smeared about her.

  That was when she’d dismissed them, without argument and with the stern voice she reserved for lecturing her own servants. Their crest-fallen faces and looks of malice showed how right that had been! She even noted how red the girl’s hands were from just rubbing that unguent on before Dallis slammed the door behind them.

  Stupid women! As if Dallis Caruth Dunn-Fadden couldn’t see through a ploy of that nature!

  She’d turned then to the crimson bliant they’d brought and hung from a rafter by the neckline as if that would take the creasing from such a material. They’d included a high, pointed headdress with charcoal-colored veil, black slippers, and a flaxen sleeveless underdress in an indeterminate shade of gray. Her lips twisted as she unfurled the wad of materials and checked it for prickly pine, vermin, or other substance. It smelled of storage and was musty, but all of it looked clean. The underdress even appeared to be woven of soft threads and draped like liquid from her hands. It might be safe against her skin.

  She smiled to herself after she’d checked everything, and then sprinkled her new clothing with water to spread it out in front of the hearth. A bit of steaming would take the worst of the wrinkling from it. And they’d over-done their plotting. They should have sent her usual white. The gray shades should bring out the fairness of her skin. They hadn’t counted on that.

  With the inclusion of the crimson velvet, and the charcoal tone of her wimple veil, though, it was going to be muted and dull and uninspiring. Aside from which, such a color scheme was guaranteed to jar with the orange streaks in her hair. She sighed.

  She’d been warned. Not sufficiently, but Redmond had warned her.

  She bent to the task of untwisting and pulling out every loop they’d made in her hair, before using the tub of lukewarm and used water to smooth her fingertips through each strand. And then she’d plaited it into one long braid that ended at her hip, perfect for tucking beneath the veil.

  Hours seemed to have passed before she’d finished, and was mostly satisfied with the results. They’d been thorough, but they must think Payton wed to a lass with little in wits and nothing in skill. She’d had to pick apart the Dunn-Fadden sett of black, white, and green plaid he’d given her, and then braid the wool strands into long colorful strips, but her attire was effective. It was modest. Eye-catching. And it was unique.

  She’d used plaid strips to bind the veiling about her braid, enclosing it in shadow, until the bottom peeked out well below her waist, showing the length and thickness. That should bother more than a few of these women! She’d used more of the wool braid to affix the gown to her body, showing a womanly shape none could dispute. And then she used more of the strips to accent the vast gap in the skirt of her gown, allowing the gray underdress to show as it filmed and highlighted every bit of her lower leg, as if she’d designed it for that purpose. She didn’t have a choice on that portion of her attire, unless she wanted to wear the bliant backwards, and that had been worse! Used like that, too much of her bosom was exposed. No man wished his wife to appear a harlot!

  So, she’d tied a batch of strands together into a knot at the back of her waist as if it belonged there, and brought each one succeeding lower on the gapped portion of her skirt, cutting little slits in the velvet to make it work. And then she did the same with smaller strands of his wool at her shoulders, looping each one a little longer than the previous one to give the illusion of sleeves that reached just past her elbow.

  When she’d finished her ministrations, sipped a bit at the wine one of his men had passed through from Payton’s rooms, and couldn’t think of one more enhancement to her appearance, she settled down on a padded stool in front of her hearth to wait. And when that started boring her, she paced a bit. Sat again. Chewed on a fingernail while she waited, lis
tened at Lady Evelyn’s door for her deep breathing. Paced again.

  Payton Dunn-Fadden was taking forever to ready himself! How difficult could it be for a man to groom himself, don a feile-breacan, and then put on his boots? She hadn’t any comparison, but this time span seemed ridiculous. And wasteful. And she was getting hungry.

  Dallis sat again, faced the fire and tried to stop her legs from dancing up and down and her feet from tapping in the too-large slippers they’d given her. And then the larger door behind her opened.

  It was Payton’s man, Redmond. He had torch bowl of coals held high and he was gesturing behind him. And into the light stepped Payton. Dallis watched his eyes widen and then his jaw dropped. Her expression was probably the match.

  She’d never seen him in full chieftain attire. He had on his family colors, the match to her own, but there was a sparkle to his every move that she lacked. The pure white of his shirt contrasted against the tan color of his skin and black of his hair, although he had that pulled back into a queue, defining the shaven jaw and perfect features. His shirt had a slit opening at the throat, and it was sleeveless, probably to allow every female to sigh over a hardness and strength that the two silver armbands about his lower arms delineated even more. Dallis only wished she were the exception, as the sigh escaped lips she hadn’t managed to close.

  He had a black velvet weskit that looked bound about his torso, since there wasn’t much space between it and the man it covered. His sporran was of silver, the tassels on his socks were the same, and the hilt and sheath for his sword were smelted from the same metal.

  Dallis was stunned. Impressed. Awed. She knew exactly what the emotions felt like now. Everything on her body felt awash with a sensation akin to being dunked in iced water. There wasn’t any way to hide it other than rub at her arms, and that would disturb the artistry of her sleeves, so she settled with clasping her hands.

  He cleared his throat. Or it was a gulp. Either way, it didn’t make much sound. Redmond appeared to be beaming.

  “My…Lady? I beg a—a word with you.” Payton stammered through the request.

  “A…word?” She gave the same stumbling sound as she repeated it.

  “Aye. A word. Or two. With you.”

  He wanted a word with her. Now?

  “Aye. Now,” he replied, as if she’d said it aloud.

  “Here?” She whispered it past lips that were actually trembling. She felt giddy. Dizzy. Filled with bubbles. Stewed. It was horrid. Then he smiled and made it so much worse!

  “Aye. Here. In this chamber. With you.”

  Oh, dear God! Her legs were going to drop her at the instant flash of sensation he created, heated, and then shoved at her. Without effort. He seemed to know it, too, for he didn’t look hesitant as he approached, losing the torchlight illumination, but gaining the flickers of her fire in its place. And then he was in front of her, looming large and heated and solid. And beautiful.

  Stunned wasn’t even appropriate, Dallis decided, watching his chest rise and fall with the strength of his breathing, and then watching it increase in volume and cadence.

  She had her hands plunged against her breast, to hold in any further reaction, and gripped the fingers together. She had to. Payton was roaming his gaze all over her from a hand-span away, and making everything more liquid feeling than her underdress. She watched as he looked there, tightened something in his jaw, if the bulge out one side was any indication, and then he moved that blue gaze back to hers.

  Dallis nearly swooned and actually knew what it was. Her heart pulsed in an almost painful beat before starting a ragged rhythm, and she was in luck she had her mouth open again, for she needed open lips to gasp through.

  “What…has been done to your dress?” he asked.

  “This…family does na’ keep their storage free of…moth damage,” she replied, adding a hint of sound to the whisper. “’Twas torn. In…obvious spots.”

  His lips twisted and her heart followed the movement with another jerk from within her breast. Dallis tightened her hands there even more and tried to stop it. Or at least contain it.

  “What?” he asked.

  She wasn’t ever telling him! She was terrified to even admit it. What she felt wasn’t love. Never. Ever. It wasn’t possible that she loved him. She shook her head and then stopped as he moved a step closer, making her totally aware of the clean man-scent of him. It wasn’t fair! She had to look away, and chose the flooring beside his boots.

  “You are wondrous fair…Wife,” he said, in a breath of words that reached the veil atop her head, and then penetrated it.

  “You’re na’…disappointed?” she asked.

  “With what?” he asked.

  “Me.”

  His amusement feathered the veil, and then he was bending at the knees to look up at her from the lower level.

  “I am overcome. Totally. Words fail me. I am na’ disappointed.”

  Dallis smiled slightly, shifted her glance back to him before shying away, and blushed. Severely. Strong enough that it brought heated droplets to her hairline. She licked at her lip, felt the ground roil beneath her feet, and looked back at him. Nothing had moved about him, and yet everything had shifted, and changed, and solidified, and gone crystal clear. Dallis had to admit it, too. She did love him. Tremendously. To the depth of her being and then further, still. It was worse than horrid. And it was better than joy. She only hoped she had the fortitude to hide it.

  Then he answered her smile and when it reached his eyes, her heart stumbled. And that just transferred to her knees. Dallis reached out for him before she fell, and gathered every bit of the embarrassment that swooning in front of him was gaining her. Only she didn’t swoon. And she didn’t fall. Payton’s hand was as strong and stout as the rest of him since that’s where she latched on.

  “The…bairn?” he asked.

  She shook her head. That was more stupidity, since she could have claimed the child made her weak. It also proved to make the floor swell about them. She moved closer in order to hold on to more of him, with both hands held by both of his. That had him standing tall again and looking over her head, while his chest moved in and out with a voracious need for air.

  “Payton?” She whispered the name, and tipped her head slightly to look at him. That just gained her a view of his chin, and then he shifted and brought his gaze back to her.

  “Aye?”

  His lips moved, so he must have said it, but Dallis didn’t truly hear it. She couldn’t hear much over the sound of heartbeats in her ears. And if he didn’t move his gaze away, she was afraid she wasn’t going to be able to make intelligible words at all. That reminded her.

  “You…wished words…with me?”

  The fingers holding to hers tightened slightly, and he sucked in a large breath.

  “’Tis…more of an entreaty,” he replied.

  He wanted to beg her for something? When it felt like he had her heart-strings in their conjoined hands and was massaging them with the pressure of his fingers?

  “What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly to diffuse some of his nearness. It didn’t work, but not much did.

  He licked his lips. Her frame rocked with a response, and then the movement transferred to him, making his eyes widen and that was too much impact to her newly discovered feelings for him. Dallis had to look aside again, or she was going to be lost. In a moment, she’d be confessing it to him!

  “This banquet. Uh…this presentation. ’Twould go over well—”

  He was interrupted by the sound of the torch dropping over by the door. Payton swiveled the moment he heard it, taking her with him. They stood side by side, hands entwined and watched Redmond dance about as he extinguished the coals.

  “Blast! Damn! Whoreson! Damn, again!”

  Dallis stared at the normally reticent Redmond as he went about cursing and stamping out the fires he’d spilt across the floor. A swift glance at Payton showed he had the same expression. When the last of the coa
ls twinkled and died, Redmond huffed with relief and looked at them.

  “Forgive me. That was…clumsy.”

  “I was just about to—” Payton started.

  “We’ll be late at the fest. Nae time.” Redmond interrupted his laird.

  “But—”

  “Nae need for argue. You’re readied. She appears readied. The Honor Guard is readied. We go.”

  “But I have na’ asked—”

  “Nae time!”

  Redmond’s urgency transferred to Payton then, for he looked down at Dallis. She felt the movement from their still-clasped hands.

  “You ready then, sweet?” he asked.

  If he used endearments with her, she wasn’t going to be able to walk! But, how was she to mention that? She settled with nodding and opened her hands, preparatory to moving away from him.

  Payton didn’t seem to want that, for he held to her fingers for a moment longer before moving her left hand to the crook of his left arm, while still holding the fingers of her right hand within his own. That put her against his swordless side. It felt and probably looked loving and gracious, especially as he worked at keeping his stride slow to accommodate her smaller steps.

  They preceded Redmond into the hall, where there were eight of his clansmen, all dressed in clan colors, and all looking very elegant and official, with Alan standing at the fore.

  “You are a grand squire, Alan Dunn-Fadden,” Payton told him.

  Dallis watched as the lad ducked his head.

  “You must take your brother’s place now. In my Honor Guard. You ken?”

  Alan nodded his head. Gulped. And then stood straighter. Dallis felt tears brimming again and forced them away. Payton was endearing himself to her even more! There was no way to face him. So, she didn’t try.

  They started walking again, boots hitting stone and weaponry jostling the only sounds. And then Payton spoke, lowering his head to reach her ear.