Elizabeth nearly laughed. “You say that of every child born in our family.”
“Avery was not born to our family,” Vera corrected. “Though Malcolm claims him as his own. And no wonder, for he is a healthy child and will grow tall and strong.”
“You cannot know that,” Elizabeth argued, though she hoped it would prove true.
“There is a vigor about this one, to be sure. He has defied death already.”
“Eleanor said he was tangled in the cord,” Elizabeth said, trying to sound as if she knew more of such matters than she did. She had been allowed in the birthing chamber when Eleanor had delivered Alexander’s first son, but since then, Eleanor had decreed that it was no sight for maidens. Elizabeth had been compelled to watch Alexander pace the hall during Eleanor’s subsequent deliveries, and leave Vera to tending her.
She wished she had paid closer attention on that one occasion. Once again, she felt sheltered and innocent, a feeling she did not like.
Had Rafael seen babies born? She did not doubt he had. Even Malcolm had been able to aid in Avery’s arrival!
Vera shook a finger at her. “You try to change the subject, my lady.” Given that Vera had served at Kinfairlie since Alexander’s birth, Elizabeth and her siblings were accustomed to that woman’s blunt speech—just as Vera was accustomed to her charges, once small and now grown, speaking plainly back to her.
“You were the one to speak of the child first!” Elizabeth protested. “I believe you are the one seeking to change the subject!”
Vera scowled. “If it keeps your thoughts as they should be, then all the better. Do not be casting your glances after men such as these, my lady, not if you wish to have a babe like this and a home to call your own.”
“Me?” Elizabeth asked, trying to feign innocence even as she felt a blush rising over her cheeks.
“Aye, you! I saw you speak with that Rafael, and never was there a man with a heart blacker than his. You should know better than to consort with his kind!” Vera listed his faults with gusto. “A mercenary, a warrior, a bloodthirsty man with no mercy in his soul.” Vera shuddered at her own summary.
Elizabeth realized that Vera might be the best source of information about Rafael to be found. “Can a man not hope to be forgiven for his sins?”
“Aye, he can, but he must do the hoping himself,” the serving maid replied tartly. “You are not such a fool that you should be expecting more from a man than he can rightly give.”
“Indeed?” Elizabeth was not ashamed to try to keep Vera talking. She did tend to gather the most interesting gossip and rumors, even at Kinfairlie. If only Moira were here: between the two women, Elizabeth would soon know more of Rafael than he knew of himself. She smiled at her own thought, and Vera jabbed a finger toward her.
“Aha! I know what notions make a maiden smile thus! Use the wits you were born with, Elizabeth Lammergeier. Men such as these offer naught to a woman of any ilk, and less yet to one born so high as yourself. They have no homes and coin passes through their hands like spring rain running through the grass.” Vera dropped her voice to a hiss. “You should see how they drink and gamble at night, like the very spawn of Hell come to abide in my lord Malcolm’s hall.”
“I should like to see that,” Elizabeth said, almost purely to see Vera’s reaction. “Do you think I might stay here this night?”
“Oh! You should not dream of such a situation! It would be unfitting, unsuitable and deeply wrong!”
“But you linger here.”
Vera stood a little taller. “I am here to aid my lord Malcolm’s new bride, in service to my lady and the new heir. Never let it be said that I did not endure much to serve my family.”
“It shall never be said,” Elizabeth agreed.
Vera was not swayed from her lecture. She shook her head and eyed the company. “My lady does not care for them being here, particularly that Rafael, but she strives to show honor to them as my lord’s former comrades and guests as is right and good.” The older woman huffed. “I need not tell you that they were not invited to his board!”
Elizabeth frowned. “But I thought Malcolm sought his fortune on the Continent.”
“That he did and returned here last Christmas Eve with Rafael.”
“Then how did his former comrades come to be here? How did they know to seek him here, if they were not invited? Had Malcolm told them of his inheritance?”
“Not he! It was that demon Rafael and no other who sent a missive, telling them of my lord’s good fortune. He is behind their arrival here, doubtless for some dark scheme of his own. I bade my lady lock the portal to the solar each night, lest we be robbed by those said to be guests in my lord’s hall!”
“Surely old comrades would not do thus!”
Vera dropped her voice low. “Yet a man was killed in this hall, just the other night.”
Elizabeth frowned. “I thought it was the earl’s man, who had come to kill Catriona. I thought Malcolm’s comrades had defended him by killing the intruder. Was that not the import of Jeanne’s tantrum?”
Vera waved aside this detail. “Such a deed would never have been attempted by any man, had the hall not been filled with men of this kind. It is Rafael’s fault, to be sure.” She leaned close to Elizabeth, her eyes bright with conviction. “They cannot be gone soon enough, to my thinking, nor can you be returned soon enough to Kinfairlie, where you can be guarded in safety.”
Elizabeth did not want to return to Kinfairlie as yet. It was far more interesting to be at Ravensmuir. She wanted to save Malcolm, and she could hardly convince Rafael to change his course if she were sitting by the fire at Kinfairlie.
With her embroidery.
Elizabeth struggled not to grimace. It was too soon to leave.
“When does Malcolm take you home?” Vera demanded.
“After the midday meal, he said.”
“The food cannot come quickly enough. I shall go to the kitchens and see if it can be served earlier than expected.” Vera bustled away, leaving Elizabeth rocking Avery. The boy nestled against her, put his fist in his mouth and went to sleep. Elizabeth admired him, unable to avoid concerns of her own future.
“Should you wish one of those of your own, there are many here who would willingly aid in that quest,” one of Malcolm’s comrades muttered from close beside her. When Elizabeth glanced his way, he grinned at her, revealing that he was missing a tooth or maybe two. Elizabeth could smell the dirt of his garb and stepped away from him on impulse.
She stopped short at the weight of a man’s hand on the back of her waist and her eyes widened. Surely she could not be in peril at Ravensmuir!
“A man’s sister should be safe in his own hall,” Rafael said, and Elizabeth caught her breath in relief. She glanced down to see that his dagger had been drawn from its scabbard, the blade shining in the shadows at his side.
The other mercenary clearly saw it as well, for he bowed and backed away.
Elizabeth found herself liking the fact that Rafael came to her defense and turned to him with a smile of gratitude.
He, however, frowned at her. “Go to the solar,” Rafael advised tersely. “Or better yet, return to Kinfairlie.”
“Are you concerned for my welfare, then?” Elizabeth asked, trying to keep her tone light. “It seems that would be the choice of a man of honor.”
“Or one who chooses always to war against folly.”
Elizabeth considered him, sensing that he blamed her for his comrade’s behavior. As before, Rafael watched her as intently as a cat watches a mouse it stalks in the night, and his avidity made her pulse race and her voice rise. “I am no fool!”
“Then do not pretend to be one,” he replied with resolve. Elizabeth was startled and she knew it showed, for no one spoke to her thus. Rafael’s tone softened when he evidently noted her reaction. “You are clever enough to see that it is not solely your welfare at risk, but the camaraderie of the company.” He arched a brow. “Should they draw knives to fight
over you, they could hardly be expected to defend each other’s backs in some later battle.”
Elizabeth supposed that made sense. “And do you expect to fight again?”
Rafael smiled as if she had asked a ridiculous question. “One thing that is guaranteed in this life is that there will always be another battle to fight. One never knows the day or the time, but my blade will not rust in its scabbard.”
Elizabeth studied Rafael, even as she rocked Avery. He lingered, almost as if he provoked her to demand more of him.
As if he waited for her to ask the right question. The weight of his gaze upon her made her flush again, that heat stealing over her skin from head to toe. Her heart beat more quickly and it seemed she could not draw a full breath. She was achingly aware of her body and of its proximity to Rafael’s hard strength. Elizabeth had never felt like this, and she did not want the sensation to end.
“Vera says Catriona dislikes you,” she said on impulse. “Why?”
Rafael folded his arms across his chest, his expression changing to amusement. “Can you not guess?”
“Aye, I can guess one reason. Because she does not wish to lose her new spouse so soon as Midsummer’s Eve.” Rafael nodded at that, still untroubled by her implied charge, and Elizabeth dared to prod him. “My brother has a great deal to live for, with a holding rebuilt, a new wife and son, and it would be a poor friend who let such a wager stand.”
“So you have said.”
Rafael’s calm acceptance of this situation annoyed Elizabeth. “He takes your place! It is unjust, regardless of what debt stood between you two before.” Elizabeth heard her voice rise in frustration. “How can you not even acknowledge what is right and noble and good?”
“And choose to die in your brother’s stead?” Rafael raised his brows. “Indeed, you ask a great deal, my lady.”
“I do not believe you are so callous as this,” she insisted. “You stepped forward just moments past to defend me.”
“For the welfare of the entire Sable League, not of you,” he said, much to Elizabeth’s disappointment. “Little good comes from a woman distracting the men and creating conflict in the company.” Rafael leaned closer before she could protest. “Do not confuse me with a knight in one of the tales you hear before the fire at night, my lady. I have lived as long as I have by choosing for my own advantage and naught else.” There was a resolve in his dark eyes, one that left her in no doubt that he had killed and often. Rafael’s voice dropped even lower, and a harder tone Elizabeth had never heard before. “I defend what I am paid to defend. It is that simple, mi piqueño ángel.”
“It is not that simple. It cannot be.”
His eyes flashed fire, evidence that her words had found their mark. “Do not pretend to be more witless than you are.”
“I only heed your own words,” Elizabeth insisted, certain that he responded so vehemently because she had found a truth. “You saved Malcolm when first you met. You admitted it yourself. You must have taken some risk in that.”
Rafael chuckled darkly. “And a calculated risk it was.” He gestured to the company. “Virtually all of these men have been saved by me at one time or another. I like having debts owed to me, instead of the other way around. In a time of trial, there are many debts I can collect to save my own hide. It is a strategy that ensures my own survival and naught else.” He held her gaze for a potent moment, as if he would will her to believe him heartless, then spun away.
“I do not believe you so calculating as that,” Elizabeth said, raising her voice so he would hear her. “Malcolm brought you home with him, after all.”
“And I will wager that Malcolm calls me comrade, not friend.”
Elizabeth was vexed that he spoke the truth, but persisted. “I still believe that you know trust is a more stable currency than mere coin.”
“And I have already noted that you are too clever to pretend to be a fool.” Rafael pivoted to face her and bowed deeply, his manner mocking. “My lady.”
Elizabeth would have liked to have thrown something at the infuriating man. She might have continued the argument, more confident with every exchange that no matter how much she dared, Rafael would treat her with honor.
She also was certain she made progress in changing his mind.
Elizabeth had taken but one step in pursuit when a raven’s cry echoed through the hall.
When the raven landed on the windowsill of the great hall in the late afternoon, Rafael knew its arrival was a sign that he should heed. Such a bird was a portent of ill fortune, for all who saw it, and a warning. He considered himself warned, and warned against the allure of Malcolm’s fetching sister.
He had only to convince himself to heed his own conclusion. Why had he come back to the hall when he had been determined to avoid her? Why had he stepped forward prepared to defend her against Gustav?
She agitated him, to be certain. She was successful in provoking him, to be sure. When had anyone ever appealed to his sense of justice? When had anyone dared to suggest that his life was worth less than that of his comrade, Malcolm? No matter how vehemently he argued the matter with her, she insisted on believing that there was good in him. It was an attractive notion, but Elizabeth was doomed to disappointment.
After all, he would not willingly take Malcolm’s place, no matter how much she entreated him to do so. A bargain was a bargain, no matter how readily a pretty maiden could addle his thinking on the matter.
Most of the men of the Sable League were gathered in the hall. The majority of them honed their blades and polished their weapons, and more than a few of them stole covert glances at Malcolm’s pretty sister. Squires sat on the floor, ensuring that armor was in good repair. The mood was quiet but purposeful. It was only a matter of time before the earl demanded vengeance for the insult to his niece—though Rafael believed the greater affront was to his own thwarted ambition to hold the new Ravensmuir.
Vera came bustling back from some quest to the kitchens and Catriona had just descended from the solar. As Rafael watched, Vera reclaimed Avery from Elizabeth’s arms, as if the younger woman could not be trusted with such a precious burden. Elizabeth almost smiled at the older woman’s protective manner, her gaze flicking to Rafael as if they shared a secret, but he ignored her attention. What did he know of serving women who were protective of the infants in her charge? His life could not have been more different than the one that Avery was already making his own.
Vera took no chances in terms of Elizabeth’s welfare, for she shooed the maiden toward Catriona with a dark glance toward the company of men. Rafael assumed then that Vera, who he knew had served long at Kinfairlie, had served there long enough that she had seen Elizabeth come into the world. It was remarkable to imagine any person having such continuity and security in their life, and Rafael felt a new understanding of the confidence Elizabeth showed.
When Vera had ensured sufficient distance was between Elizabeth and the men, she bestowed her venomous glance upon Rafael.
He saluted the older woman, smiling and bowing to her, because the temptation to tease her was irresistible. Vera scowled and spun to march away proudly, exactly as he had anticipated.
Elizabeth giggled, the sound tempting Rafael to consider her in turn.
The bird’s cry, at least, kept him from striding to her side.
Malcolm leaped to his feet when the raven appeared. He might have been waiting for its arrival, for he showed no surprise at its presence. Indeed, he walked toward the bird with such obvious expectation that Rafael wondered if Malcolm knew the creature to be tame. He recalled the tales he had heard in this abode of the laird being able to converse with ravens, and wondered if there was any truth in it. Certainly this bird watched Malcolm’s approach with interest and without fear.
“God in Heaven!” Vera cried and clutched Avery so close that the infant protested.
The raven tilted its head at her words and surveyed the men in the hall with an eerie intensity, scanning the hall before lo
oking back at Malcolm.
Its presence could have been another sign, to Rafael’s thinking, that this hall stood at a portal to Hell.
“Welcome, Melusine,” Malcolm said, then made a distinctive whistle. The bird cried out, as if in reply, then took flight anew.
“Trust a Hellhound to have a pet raven,” Tristan jested and the other men laughed.
“More than one,” Elizabeth contributed, the clear tone of her voice making Rafael look up despite his resolve. His heart leapt at the discovery that she was looking at him, as if she spoke to him alone. “Once there were dozens of them living here.”
What would she give to save her brother’s soul? It was an intriguing question, but the better one was how much Rafael would take.
What price would change his mind?
Was there one?
“Perhaps that explains the name Ravensmuir,” Rafael muttered and his closest comrades chuckled.
Meanwhile, Malcolm hastened to the window where the raven had been and peered at the sky. He stiffened suddenly, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. Rafael was immediately on the move, understanding that whatever his comrade saw, it was not good.
“Are the gates secured?” Malcolm asked in an undertone just before Rafael reached his side. Rafael halted beside Malcolm and saw the army approaching, his gaze roving over their ranks as he guessed their numbers.
They carried the earl’s colors.
Of course. “He is predictable, at least,” Rafael muttered.
“Aye, and Louis stands sentinel,” Amaury said to Malcolm. “Why?”
“Who arrives?” Ranulf asked, stepping to Malcolm’s other side.
In that same moment, Louis appeared at the portal. “A large party approaches,” he said. “A party riding to war. I have locked the portcullis and barred the gates, but we should be prepared.”
“Is it the earl?” Reynaud asked, looking up from the blade he honed.
“Of course,” Rafael said and the others nodded without surprise. This would be no small battle and something quickened within him at the prospect. It was the waiting that broke the spirit. He was glad to have preparations to make, to have the anticipated battle close at hand.
All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances Page 105