The Memory of Her Kiss

by Rebecca Ruger

  “Tess!” Conall rolled his eyes and tossed back his head. “Jesu!”

  Gregor closed his eyes and steadied his breath.

  “What?” Tess asked, looking back and forth between the two before she settled her gaze once more on Gregor. “Anice is the dearest person in the world. How could you not fall in love with her?”

  “Tess, damn it,” Conall growled next to her.

  “I am sorry, Gregor,” she said, her voice soft again. “It just seems so... unfair.”

  Gregor looked at Tess. “You think because you found your happy ending that everyone should have one? You think that’s how it works? That I can just set aside honor and duty to my clan to have only what I want?”

  Her green eyes lowered, a sadness within. “I know you cannot. Honor is strung about you as indestructibly as it is upon Conall. Maybe I just hoped there was another way.”

  “There is no other way.”

  Resolutely, Tess said, “Then you leave her alone. Do not give her hope or prolong this. And when you leave, you don’t come back until she’s gone.”

  Gregor’s frown was quick and fierce at these incendiary words. “What the—where the hell is she going?”

  Another sorrowful expression preceded her words. “She’ll marry, too, Gregor. She’ll take some man whom she does not love—”

  “Tess! I am going to—” Conall tried to cut in.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” she said over her shoulder, ignoring the building ire in Conall’s rough tone. “Is that what you want, Gregor?”

  “I want you to stop talking,” he said, and Conall allowed him this disrespect now. Glowering again at the back of Anice’s head, he rose so quickly that his chair upended behind him. With his jaw and fists clenched, he strode away from the table and left the hall.

  ANICE WATCHED GREGOR stride from the hall, aware that something had angered him. She gave no attention to Patrick now, but turned toward the head table and found Tess’s eyes upon her. Tess seemed to struggle with some sorrowful emotion, her normally bright eyes clouded, while Conall’s steady blue gaze regarded his love with a rare displeasure. When Conall then shifted those dark eyes to Anice, she knew she was somehow responsible for whatever had driven Gregor from the hall. She stood then, intent on following him, but Torren grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down.

  “You let him go now, lass,” Torren said. “’Tis no longer your business.”

  Slowly, Anice took her seat again, but she could not stop her lip from trembling as Torren’s words sank in. No longer her business.

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Anice and Tess and Serena sat around the pink silk gown, applying finishing touches before the wedding tomorrow. Anice, of course, held only the fabric, keeping it from bunching while Tess and Serena brandished the needles, sewing shiny golden threads onto the hem and neckline in graceful scrolling vines and leaves. They were ensconced in Serena’s chambers, as this project was not meant to be seen by any before the wedding itself.

  Anice had held back as long as she could, but finally had to ask, “What happened last night at supper that Gregor went storming from the hall?”

  Tess kept her eyes on the task, seemingly not taken aback by this question.

  “Sadly, I am not allowed to talk about it.”

  Anice frowned. “Why ever not?”

  Serena’s hands sat unmoving, looking up at Tess as well. Tess tried for several long seconds to keep at her work, but Anice saw that her lips pinched and pursed until finally she lifted her gaze. “Conall has insisted that it is not my affair and that I must refrain from involving myself.”

  Both Anice and Serena’s eyes widened at this.

  Slyly, Serena asked, “And did you promise that you would not involve yourself? Or did you only give some mayhap vague and reluctant acquiescence?”

  Tess seized on this. “Now that I think upon it, I do believe it was both vague and reluctant. And, it was also coerced.” Her eyes slid away with this last bit.

  Anice didn’t know what that meant, but Serena giggled softly. “Yes, I’m quite sure it was.”

  A pretty blush rose on Tess’s cheeks.

  “Please explain this to me,” Anice said, feeling as if she had missed several key sentences.

  “The coercion?” Serena giggled again and slapped her hands over her mouth.

  Tess sent Serena a glance that was likely supposed to be firm but contained its own mirth.

  Still, Tess resisted Anice, though her expression now hinted at being torn. “Anice, I am sorry. I want to—but I cannot.”

  Serena lifted a hand, drawing their attention. “Perhaps, I might explain, as I have made no promise, vague or otherwise,” she said pointedly, her eyes on Tess, “and no one shall accuse you of interfering.”

  Tess bit her lip but nodded and Serena turned toward Anice.

  “Are you in love with Gregor?”

  A soft gasped escaped her. Anice stared at them, her lips parted, words abandoning her.

  “I would not have led with that,” Tess said, her lips twisted in thought.

  Serena asked Tess, “Would you have led with: Anice, I think Gregor is in love with you?”

  Tess shook her head. “More subtle maybe. Something like, do you ever notice how he cannot keep his eyes off you?”

  “I see.” Serena tapped her finger against her lips and then said to Tess, “Should I have mentioned that he seemed quite willing to inflict bodily harm upon poor Patrick last night, for no other reason than the dear man sat next to and talked to her?”

  Tess nodded. “Yes, and maybe hint—subtly, of course—that she might make effective use of the seating arrangements tomorrow at the wedding feast.”

  “Oh, I could remind her that he’s not wed yet so there is still time,” Serena said.

  Tess said with some excitement, “I wonder if she knows that kissing is a powerful tool.”

  Anice moved her eyes from one to the next as they spoke. And while everything they claimed to know and impart thrilled her in some way—because it made her circumstance seem less hopeless, she realized—it only saddened her more. Her shoulders slumped. She closed her eyes against the threatening tears.

  “Oh, dear,” said Serena.

  “Anice, darling, please don’t cry,” Tess said, giving up their game. “We’re not making fun, we’re only trying to help.”

  Anice nodded shakily and opened her watery eyes. “You are very dear friends. But I—”

  “What?”

  Her eyes found and remained on the cupboard in Serena’s room, noting the fine detail of the carved wood. “I cannot do that to him.”

  Quiet then, while they waited.

  Anice inhaled a lengthy breath. “I cannot make or take the decision from him. His honor... he would resent me. Certainly, if something awful happened because of it. Not that I think that I could change his mind, but he has made a pledge, and it was done to bring and keep peace.” She looked at Tess, “You said yourself, peace between clans was no trifling matter.”

  With a stricken look, Tess nodded. “I did say that,” she said with a pout. “And it’s true.”

  “But Anice,” Serena said with an earnest tone, “you and Gregor are—I’ve just never seen him like this before.”

  Anice tried to smile at her friends. They truly were wonderful. And her unwillingness to heed any of their very clever advice hadn’t really anything to do with the fact that he’d sent her away, though that had certainly broken her heart. It was as she’d said, it needed to be his choice, even as so much of her knew he would choose honor over her.

  “All right, I understand what you’ve said, Anice,” Serena pressed on, “but what if he kisses you? Without you taking the lead, or purposefully setting the scene for it to happen?”

  Some sound burst from Anice that was both laughter and a sob. “And they call me incorrigible!”

  Anice did not see Gregor at all that day, which was probably for the best. The words and ideas of her friends played again and again in her mi
nd, and she had all she could do to ignore the possibilities. Anice, I think Gregor is in love with you, sang like a refrain in her head. Amazing that so few words could simultaneously bring such boundless joy and so immense a sorrow.

  However, he’d found her later in the evening. She’d chosen not to partake of supper in the hall, begging a meal from Eagan in the kitchen to take to her room. She considered as she ate that she had only the wedding to get through tomorrow, assuming Gregor would depart soon after. The flavors and textures of Eagan’s wonderful meat pie were lost on her as she thought that this then would surely be the last time she saw him, unless it was his custom to visit Inesfree regularly. Anice did not know.

  A knock at the door roused her from her reverie. Gregor showed himself when she called for entry. Anice gasped, having expected Tess or Serena. She sat perfectly still in the chair she’d pulled up to the short cupboard, where sat her half-eaten meal.

  “Why do you take your supper here, lass?”

  She had no answer to give him.

  He accepted her silence and leaned his shoulder against the door frame, shrinking the entryway as his bulk filled it. “But you canna avoid the wedding tomorrow, lass.”

  “And I wouldn’t.” Having no idea what he was about, she aimed for some flippancy. “I have a new kirtle to wear.”

  His lips quirked in a rueful smile. His gaze was both piercing and thoughtful. Anice wondered if he struggled with the same demons as she.

  “And you ken we’ll be leaving the day after.”

  Anice nodded. “Do—do you visit Inesfree...often?”

  Gregor shook his head, his eyes not leaving her. From his tunic, he withdrew a strip of Kincaid tartan, blue and gray and green. He twirled the piece in his hand for a moment.

  Anice stood from the chair, her fingers squeezing the folds of her skirts.

  “You keep this, lass, and think of me,” he said, his voice thick. “And...and you ken I’ll be thinking of you.” And with that he stepped closer to her. He lifted her hand and pressed the fabric within, folding her fingers around it.

  They were only a breath away. Anice kept her eyes lowered, still on the fabric and the hand that held hers. “Thank you.” She wished she were brave enough to lift her face, to kiss him, to beg him to take her home, but she was not. She didn’t move, just continued to stare at his hand folded over hers.

  Withdrawing his hand with infinite slowness so that it seemed only a caress as his fingers slid away from hers, he said no more and left her chambers. She stood for several minutes as he left her, staring at the open doorway, tears spilling freely now, while she squeezed the fabric in both hands.

  TESS MUNRO WAS GLORIOUS as a bride, made only more lovely by the joy shining in her sparkling green eyes. She and Serena and Anice had spent the day together, which had started with a luxurious bath for Tess and much attention to her hair before mid-afternoon had come and they’d slipped the exquisite pink gown over her head. Atop her hair they placed a veil of white lace, ringed with a circlet covered in golden threads, while the long and shiny tresses hung loose to her waist, curling in that most curious shade of red and gold and blonde.

  Serena and Anice dressed as well, in gowns they’d made over the past few weeks. As it was Tess’s day, Anice refrained from exclaiming too much over her own kirtle but secretly delighted in the soft blue velvet that fit her so perfectly, and the new satin slippers of silver.

  “Are you nervous?” She asked Tess.

  The bride’s response of, “Not in the least,” was accompanied by the most resplendent smile, bringing Anice both joy and envy.

  The keep felt eerily empty as the three women descended the stairs and found the MacGregor captain, John Cardmore, waiting for them in the bailey. Every other soul of Inesfree, including the groom, was gathered in the village.

  “Aye, you’re a vision, lass.” said the captain as he lifted Tess up onto the back of a magnificent white horse. He added with a lopsided grin, “But it’s no too late to change your mind.”

  GREGOR STOOD BESIDE Conall at the doors to the church.

  “Not even slightly nervous?” He asked, as Conall waited so calmly next to him, his eyes on the horizon, from where Tess would come.

  Conall could not contain his proud and happy smile. “Not in the least.”

  Gregor patted him on his back and then clasped one hand over the other below his hips, his feet braced apart.

  While the sky was not clear, rain did not seem imminent, and Gregor briefly considered all these people so cheerfully assembled before the church, garbed in their finest garments, though the sea of color was still and ever only many shades of brown and tan and gray. Inesfree’s sometimes cleric, Father Ioan, stood serenely behind Gregor and Conall, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his heavy robes.

  And then the small bridal party came over the ridge, Serena and Anice riding ahead of John as he led the bride’s horse. Gregor’s eyes fixed immediately and hungrily upon Anice. She was easily recognizable by the lack of flowing hair, but still too far for Gregor to see clearly. The crowd ooh-ed and ahh-ed and Conall’s grin widened. When they were close enough to the back of the crowd, Serena and Anice dismounted with help from the nearest men and walked toward the church doors.

  And now Gregor caught his breath, his heated gaze still upon Anice.

  She was beyond beautiful. The habit of Jardine had been little more than an imprecise sack, in so drab a color as to be unremarkable, defined only by a thick rope belt which somehow seemed better suited to nautical usage. The saffron gown was in truth no improvement, that color being so awful as to be offensive and the fit so poor as to render it no better than the habit. It spoke more of her own luminous disposition that so many had still been captivated by her when she’d been garbed as she had been. When that had been ruined, she’d been garbed in gowns so nondescript as to be forgettable. But this, now, this gown of a rather notable shade of blue, caressed and flattered her petite frame and enhanced the blue of her eyes. She and Serena wore matching crowns of autumn’s blooms, in shades of pink and red and purple, the piece sitting upon her blonde tufts at just a slight angle over her bright and smiling eyes, giving her a rather impish appearance. Of their own accord, his eyes drifted to the bodice of the gown, as it showed more skin than anything she’d previously worn, the gentle swells of her bosom visible as the neckline scooped just across the top of her breasts. He had never seen her more beautiful or more beguiling. And somehow, despite the splendor of her finery, she appeared still as artless and innocent as ever.

  The last thing Gregor noticed was that some bit of color hung from her waist. While her gown was belted in a braided silver rope that hugged her hips so adoringly, there hung from her right side, knotted to the belt and hanging down into the folds of her skirts, the strip of the Kincaid tartan he’d given her last night. Gregor’s eyes jerked to hers at discovering this addition to her costume, just as Anice’s eyes moved from all those she greeted in her procession to meet his gaze.

  Her smile stilled but did not disappear.

  All eyes watched John Cardmore lift Tess Munro from the saddle and guide her through the crowd to her groom. She saw no one but Conall and her expression caused no doubt as to the depth and fullness of her love and joy.

  After the short ceremony and the celebratory Mass inside the church, where so many people stood shoulder to shoulder to witness the union, the entire party moved back to the keep for the feast. Gregor had some thought to ride back with Anice, a need to touch her having taken hold when he’d first spied her today. But she was lost to him in the crowd that converged upon the happy couple when they’d exited the church, until he saw Torren putting her back atop the palfrey she’d rode in on. His captain held the reins and walked the horse along the lane, leaving Gregor to make his own way back to the castle amid the happy throng of people.

  ANICE WAS SURE SHE had never seen so much food in one place, at one sitting before. The entire front of the head table was laden with platters of
fish and game and trays of fruit and cheese. In the center, before the bride and groom, atop a fine cloth of embroidered linen, sat a plate piled high with sweet breads and tarts and honey cakes.

  Angus sat beside Tess, with Anice being directed to the chair next to him, while Gregor took the seat beside her. At Jared’s side sat John and Serena and Fynn. A trio of musicians were positioned in the far corner of the hall, playing the harp, the timbrel, and the lute. The merry music was nearly drowned out by the noise of so many people crushed into and overflowing from the hall.

  Busying herself with filling Angus’s plate, Anice wondered how well or how long she could ignore Gregor’s presence beside her. Even as she was turned to her left and Angus, she felt Gregor’s leg brushing against hers. She’d thought as she approached the church that he appeared more handsome today than ever. She wasn’t sure how he managed that, or was it just perception? Was it related to emotions? Did he seem more handsome to her as she cared more for him? She’d felt his beautiful amber eyes on her often today—before, during, and after the ceremony—and now, even as she attended Angus still.

  “Thank you, lass,” Angus said when Anice had pressed his knife into his hand.

  “And here’s your ale, at the top of your plate,” Anice said, having poured him a cup from the pewter jug. Having completed these tasks, she hadn’t any choice then but to face forward, which put Gregor in her periphery.

  She felt a pull at her side and looked down to find Gregor’s fingers tugging lightly on the strip of tartan she’d tied at her belt. She lifted her eyes to his, noted his near smile and steady gaze.

  “This is a nice touch.”

  “A bit of color,” was all she allowed. She didn’t tell him she had some thought to have this on her person all her days, but that maybe today, it was simply a farewell.

  “You took my breath away today, Anice,” he said softly.

  Anice removed her eyes from his. She faced her empty plate and wondered if Angus had heard these words, catching just the briefest pause of the old man’s hand as he lifted his ale cup to his lips. But she said nothing.