The Snow White Bride

by Claire Delacroix

  “Don it!” Elizabeth urged.

  Eleanor needed no more encouragement to put the golden chain over her head. The gem fell just below her collarbone, its weight welcome beyond belief. She smiled at Alexander, who watched her with bright eyes. “You have given me gifts beyond expectation,” she whispered.

  “I grant you no more and no less than what you deserve,” he said, then kissed her knuckles. The others turned to speak to each other, granting the pair a moment of privacy.

  “I wish I had had this to wear on our nuptial day,” Eleanor said, stroking the crucifix. “It was said to bring good fortune.”

  “Considering the fortune you had in the two marriages for which you did wear it, I am rather glad that you did not have it then,” Alexander said with a grin. “You can wear it from this day forward.”

  “Indeed, I will, for I find this marriage a fortunate one, indeed.”

  “Guinevere, too, is your nuptial gift, although belatedly given,” Alexander said. “I hope you will ride her long and in good health, as I hope our marriage will endure long in good health.”

  Eleanor smiled, feeling lighter and more blessed than ever she had. “I thank you, though I regret that I have but one gift that I can surrender to you in this moment.”

  Alexander arched a brow. “Indeed?”

  “Indeed.” She held fast to his hand. “My lord husband has succeeded in his quest to make my heart his very own, and so I surrender it to your care. I love you, Alexander Lammergeier.” She smiled at him. “I am told with good authority that this is the foundation of all marriages of merit.”

  “That was always my understanding,” he said with a wink.

  They entered the bailey, the horses stamping and snorting. Squires came running from the stables and villagers clustered about the company, anxious to hear details of their adventure. Anthony strode from the hall, shouting commands, and ensuring that the wounded had prompt care.

  But Eleanor had eyes only for her husband. He was more pale than she would have preferred, though still he moved with vigor. Alexander dismounted, then lifted her from her saddle.

  “You should not have fetched me, not until your wound was healed,” she chided, unable to halt herself.

  He grinned, holding her so that her feet were just above the ground, as if he meant to put her back in the saddle. “Shall I return you to Tivotdale, and come for you later?” he asked, his manner playful, and she laughed aloud.

  “You know what I mean,” she said, putting her arms around his neck. “I love you. I am pleased beyond all to be by your side, but I care for your welfare.”

  He bent and kissed her brow. “As I care for yours.” His voice caught as he held her closer. “There was no choice, Eleanor. I love you too much to abandon you to such a fate.” His arms surrounded her, his embrace all that she would ever need. “Know that I shall treasure the gift of your love always,” he said. “Though you should be aware that you hold my heart hostage in return.”

  “I vow to protect it as it so rightly deserves.” She reached up and eased some of the soot from his face, then held up that finger in accusation. “You, sir, have need of a bath.”

  “And shall I bathe alone?”

  “Never again!”

  Alexander laughed and Eleanor was happy as she had never known herself to be. Anthony cleared his throat at close proximity, then offered something to his laird, which he had kept hidden in his hand. “You might be desirous of this, my lord,” he said, then smiled at Eleanor. “Welcome home, my lady.”

  “Home,” Eleanor repeated, and felt those tears rise again.

  Alexander opened his hand to reveal his mother’s emerald ring and his eyes lit. “This would belong on this finger,” he said, lifting her left hand and holding the ring above her hand. He arched a brow at her and Eleanor pushed her ring finger through the circle of gold, accepting once again what he offered her.

  “You, sir, have need of a son,” she said with force.

  “I have need of my lady’s healing caress,” he said, then claimed her lips in a possessive kiss. Eleanor met his embrace with a passion of her own, not caring who witnessed their ardor. As always, his touch set her to simmering and she found herself anxious to retire to the solar and that great bed.

  The assembly cheered all around them, and when Alexander finally lifted his head, Eleanor realized that her hand gently rested upon the bump on the back of his head.

  It was not large, but neither was it small.

  She frowned at him in mock consternation. “A fortnight abed, my lord, and not one moment less. That is what will see you cured.”

  “A man of honor can only cede to his lady’s every command,” Alexander said, his eyes alight with a wicked gleam.

  Eleanor laughed, then stretched to her toes to kiss him fully, liking well how Alexander responded to her caress. His conquest of her reluctant heart was a victory to be celebrated, indeed.

  Epilogue

  It was October at Kinfairlie and Alexander knew there was mischief afoot in his hall.

  Kinfairlie had hosted its first fall fair just the month before, and this with Eleanor’s sage counsel. Although there were matters that could be improved in the future, he considered it to have been a success. His borders were secure and there were a few coins in his coffers. There had been seed at Tivotdale that they had claimed in the spring and the weather had been perfect. The harvest had been a good one.

  Alexander was sufficiently content that he did not trouble himself over some measure of mischief. His three younger sisters were smug, and he caught them giggling at some secret they would not confess. Even Eleanor, ripe and round with his child, seemed to hold some detail from him. He did not beg after the tale; indeed, he feigned obliviousness of their many hints, for he knew these portents well.

  There was a jest in the offing, and he was to be the butt of that jest. He did not fear that it was a foul trick, for his wife was clearly engaged in this mischief. Indeed, so secretive was her manner that she might have been its instigator, and this possibility lightened his heart. The lady had fairly blossomed since they had wed, and Alexander knew it was her true nature that revealed itself. That she trusted him sufficiently to make a jest, even one at his expense, was merry news, indeed.

  Alexander only hoped that the four women would spare a measure of his pride, though he doubted it would be done.

  * * * * *

  Alexander forgot all about his suspicions on the day that Eleanor began her labor. The babe came earlier than expected and the entire household was set to scrambling when her water broke. Alexander found himself grateful that Jeannie had not been seen since her departure from his hall, for he would not have trusted her to aid Eleanor in the birth of their child.

  Women raced hither and yon, kettles of steaming water were carried to the solar, and a runner was dispatched to a midwife. Eleanor was led to the great bed in the solar, Annelise supporting her, and Vera and Moira took joint charge of the proceedings.

  Only Alexander was left with no deed to fulfill. Indeed, he was forbidden by those two maids to so much as enter his own chamber.

  “I must be by my lady’s side,” he argued, knowing full well that his case was lost.

  “It is no place for a man, my lord,” insisted Moira.

  “It is oft said that the man who attends the birth of his own child will never regard his wife the same way,” counseled Vera.

  Eleanor screamed then, all three of them wincing as one. “We have a long day ahead of us, my lord,” Moira said with false cheer.

  “The first babe always takes the longest,” agreed Vera. The two smiled at Alexander with a pert confidence he could not bring himself to share. Elizabeth and Isabella arrived then, breathless from running, and the maids ushered them into the chamber with a nod. “My lady will appreciate your comfort,” Vera said.

  “But…” Alexander protested, reaching for the latch.

  “We shall summon you, my lord, though it will not likely be soon,”
Moira said with crisp authority. Then the women ducked into the solar and closed the portal firmly in Alexander’s face.

  He stomped down to his hall in poor temper. Eleanor screamed again, her last cry ending with a gasp that made him shudder.

  “Her cries are not close together as yet, my lord,” Anthony counseled, offering his laird a cup of ale. “The babe will not arrive soon.”

  Alexander spared his castellan a telling glance, accepted the ale, and drank half of it in one swallow.

  But there was no lie in either prediction. The day stretched long and Alexander paced the hall so diligently that he swore he would wear a trough in the floor. Eleanor cried out at intervals, her cries becoming ever louder and more close together. When night began to darken the hall and the child had not yet arrived, Alexander wondered how his father had endured this ordeal eight times—no less how his mother had done so.

  “It has not been so long as that, sir, though truly it seems as much.” Anthony placed another cup of ale upon the board before his master, along with a slice of bread and some cheese.

  “The better part of a day is long enough!” Alexander protested.

  “There are those women who labor for several days and nights before the child sees fit to emerge,” Anthony asserted with an acceptance of that fact that Alexander found galling. “I do not doubt that your lady feels the passage of time even more onerously than you.”

  “I do not doubt as much myself, Anthony.” Alexander drank some of the ale, then began to pace the hall again. He was restless beyond all.

  “You seek a task in this,” his castellan said. “But truly, my lord, your part in this quest was completed many months ago.”

  “I thank you for reminding me that I am responsible for my lady’s anguish,” Alexander said, and the castellan shook his head.

  “It is natural, my lord, and Lady Eleanor is both young and hale,” he said. “From my understanding, there is little to fear before the second day.”

  Alexander straightened. “Thank you, Anthony. I shall pray that the lady’s ordeal ends soon.”

  Eleanor punctuated that comment with a bellow both louder and longer than any previous. There was a cheer from the solar and the murmur of encouraging voices.

  “The babe,” Anthony whispered.

  “I cannot bear it,” Alexander said as his wife cried out again, and did so even more loudly. The women cloistered with Eleanor cried encouragement and he could not linger in the hall any longer.

  There was a bustle at the portal to the hall, but Alexander did not care. He made for the stairs with purpose, knowing that two older women would not halt him this time, despite their convictions.

  Anthony cleared his throat with sudden volume. “You have a visitor, my lord.”

  “He or she can wait until the morrow,” Alexander said tersely, not sparing a backward glance. “Please ensure that our guest is made comfortable, but I have neither time nor patience to entertain on this day.”

  “You may think otherwise once you know who I am,” an unfamiliar voice said with some humor.

  Alexander turned partway up the stairs to find an older man standing in his hall. That man had a bright eye and stood with an expectant manner. He was not young, his hair a thick mane of white, his garb was most expensive. Rings adorned most of his fingers, his tabard was richly embellished with golden embroidery, and a fur-lined cloak in lavish black spilled over his shoulders. Four pages hovered behind him, their manner attentive and their garb echoing the man’s colors.

  Alexander forced a thin smile. “I doubt as much,” he said politely. “As you may have ascertained, my wife labors to deliver our child and she is my sole concern on this evening.” He gestured to Anthony. “All the same, I bid you welcome to Kinfairlie and anticipate that we shall become better acquainted on the morrow. Until then, my abode is as yours.”

  Eleanor cried out again and Alexander spared a nod for guest and castellan. He had barely taken a step before another cry carried to his ears.

  It was the cry of a baby.

  The women cheered above him and Alexander took the remaining stairs three at a time. He burst into his own chamber, and saw to his relief that Eleanor yet lived. He went directly to her side and kissed her hand, then her brow. “How do you fare?”

  “I am glad to see this task complete,” she said, smiling at him through her exhaustion. Her brow was damp with perspiration and the linens were soaked with blood, but she was alive and flushed in the face.

  “As am I.”

  “Tell me, Alexander, are you committed to having eight children, as your parents did?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.

  “One will suffice,” he said with vigor, uncertain whether he could endure more days like this one.

  “Surely you have need of a son?” Eleanor teased. Her eyes sparkled with uncommon humor, though Alexander did not comprehend her jest.

  “A son or daughter will suit me well,” he said. “So long as my lady is hale.”

  Eleanor smiled. “Fool man,” she whispered, no censure in her voice. “A son is what you need, even more than most men do.”

  Isabella eased to Alexander’s side, a plump bundle in her arms. “Look!” she said with such pride that the child might have been her own. She offered the babe to Alexander and he smiled at its ruddy-faced indignation. He accepted its burden with care and it promptly bellowed with greater gusto.

  He had no time to ask its gender, much less why his lady wife was so insistent upon having a son, before the women gasped in collective dismay.

  “Who are you?” Vera cried. “And what makes you imagine you have a place in this chamber?”

  “You will not look upon my lady in this state,” Moira exclaimed, and cast a clean linen sheet across Eleanor’s knees.

  “Sir!” Alexander stood at the sight of his guest in this chamber at this time. The older man looked about himself with some interest, as if assessing Alexander’s very worth by his furnishings. “You go too far in this! It is scarcely the place of a guest to look upon my lady in such a state.” He and Vera made to block that man’s passage, but the older man only arched a brow at this obstacle.

  He peered over their shoulders and smiled thinly. “Good evening, Eleanor,” he said crisply.

  Eleanor, to Alexander’s shock, sat up, straightened her chemise, and smoothed her hair. “Good afternoon, my lord Reinhard.”

  “You know him?” Alexander asked in an undertone.

  Eleanor nodded. “I invited him to Kinfairlie, that he might arrive for this day as our guest.”

  Reinhard tut-tutted. “Though your summons should have been more urgently stated. You told me, in fact, that the child would not arrive for at least another week. You are early in bringing this child forth into the world, Eleanor, and very nearly lost all in so doing.”

  “I am sorry, my lord.” Eleanor dropped her gaze demurely.

  “It is not her fault, my lord,” Moira said, standing beside Eleanor as if she meant to protect her. “A babe will come in its own time.”

  “And there are witnesses aplenty, should you have arrived later,” Elizabeth noted. She moved to stand by Eleanor’s side, as if defending her. Alexander watched Annelise stand beside Elizabeth, while Isabella straightened beside him.

  “What does this mean?” Alexander asked. “What is the import of this?”

  They ignored him.

  “I scarce made it here in time to witness the deed, and no matter what you believe, it is critical that I do witness the babe’s arrival,” Reinhard huffed.

  “Is the child not hale?” Alexander demanded, fearful now of what they meant. He looked down at the bundle in his arms.

  Eleanor grasped his hand. “The babe is fine.”

  Alexander looked between the pair in confusion.

  Reinhard snapped his fingers and one of his pages— all of whom had also followed him into the solar, to the dismay of Moira and Vera—surrendered a feathered quill to him. Reinhard snapped his finger again and was gi
ven a scroll of vellum adorned with an impressive number of ribbons. He unfurled it, revealing the many red wax seals upon it, and cleared his throat.

  Then he eased aside the sheet over Eleanor’s knees with the tip of the quill.

  “What folly is this?” Alexander roared. “I protest this indignity shown to my wife!”

  “It must be done,” Eleanor said.

  “Let him do what he must,” Isabella counseled, putting a restraining hand upon Alexander’s elbow. They had both been struck mad, Alexander was certain of it, not to find this man’s very manner offensive.

  “It appears that you have indeed borne a child very recently, Eleanor,” Reinhard said with some approval.

  “Indeed, I have, my lord.”

  “It would have been ideal, of course, for me to have witnessed the birth and thus to have ensured there to be no doubt that this child came from your womb, but one must make do with one’s opportunities, I suppose.”

  “I apologize again, my lord.”

  Reinhard harrumphed and made a notation upon his parchment, then looked about the chamber. His gaze fell upon the child in Alexander’s arms and he crossed the room. “And this would be the infant in question?”

  “Of course,” the women replied in unison.

  “What is the reason for this madness?” Alexander asked, but Eleanor hushed him with a fingertip upon his elbow.

  “Trust me,” she whispered. Her eyes sparkled so merrily that he was more reassured by her manner than any words she might have uttered.

  Reinhard, who was clearly not enamored of small children, used the feathered tip of his quill to push aside the swaddling. His lip curled slightly, though he persisted. The babe’s small penis was soon revealed, though the boy protested this intimacy with another wail.

  “A boy,” Reinhard said, then nodded approval at Eleanor. “Well done.”

  “I strove to ensure as much, my lord,” she said, sparing a smile for Alexander. She squeezed his hand, her eyes dancing with such delight that he was both charmed and confused.