“It seems that all ends well at Inverfyre,” Aileen murmured to the Hawk.
He smiled down at her, sensual intent gleaming in his eyes. “But I still believe there are matters left unfinished between us. Our wedding night was celebrated in such haste.” He kissed her then and Aileen sighed contentment in his embrace.
“It is so long to wait until the evening,” she whispered and was rewarded by his wicked grin.
“The Laird of Inverfyre pronounces that his lady shall not wait,” he declared, then caught her in his arms. He carried her toward the hall, ignoring the whistles that echoed after them.
They both would have preferred to ignore the sounds of a party arriving at the gates, but the Hawk spared a backward glance.
“Oh no,” Aileen whispered, recognizing her father’s banner before a familiar voice carried over the bailey.
“Nigel? Nigel! Eh bien, look at your garb! Your daughter has come to live, how do you say, among the pigs!” Then Blanche screamed, apparently seeing Nigel’s wound. They watched as she fainted and Nigel caught her, then her entourage clustered closer to revive her.
Aileen and the Hawk exchanged a glance, then he pivoted and strode toward the tower without a backward look, his lady wife laughing all the while.
It was comparatively quiet in their chamber. The trunks had been dumped and all was in shambles. The Hawk hesitated on the threshold, his grip tightening upon his bride as he guessed that she must have faced Dubhglas here.
“Would you prefer elsewhere?” he asked.
She surveyed the chamber somberly, then met his gaze. “It is our chamber, for now and always. The sooner we fill it with happy memories, the sooner the poor ones will weaken and fade.”
Pride bloomed within him that his bride was not readily daunted. The Hawk closed the door with his boot and her smile turned playful. He laid her upon the bed, pleased to see that the wolf pelts were yet there and intact. Their gazes held as they undressed impatiently, each casting their soiled garments aside with haste. Aileen rose on her knees and pulled the drapes closed on the bed, hiding the disarray from sight and creating a quiet haven for them both. The Hawk was honored indeed to share that haven with her.
He noticed the difference as soon as she kissed him. This time, she was not shy; this time, she returned his kiss with passion. Visions unfurled in his thoughts—tangled vines and ripened fruit, what must have been past lives and deeds—but he gave them no heed, choosing instead to concentrate upon pleasing his lady. They wove a potent spell between each other that afternoon, as the sun slanted through the window and gilded the drapes, a spell that bound their hearts and souls together for all time.
And when they reached their culmination together, the Hawk did not close his eyes. He watched Aileen as passion took her over the summit and understanding dawned in her blue gaze.
The vision tumbled into his thoughts, alien and yet familiar, and he was certain that she saw it in the same moment as he. He followed the course of the entangled vines with increasing haste, as if he raced down a corridor. His sight plummeted along their length until he reached the roots and the entwined stems dove into the ground.
He was in a meadow, waist-high with wildflowers with the summer sun heating his back. The sky was blue beyond blue, as were the eyes of the red-haired maiden whose hands he held fast within his own. She whispered a spell in some old tongue, one that he knew he had agreed to join. Though he could not understand the words, he knew their import well enough.
They two agreed to become one. They two agreed to meet again and again, to draw flesh across their souls, to live and breathe and grow in wisdom, to do so together. They vowed to remind each other of their shared past, of their bonds, of their love, all to ensure that neither would ever be alone again.
It was a memory that brought tears to the Hawk’s eyes, and made him clutch Aileen close when they lay together on the linens. Their limbs were entangled, he noted with a smile, like the honeysuckle and the hazel, and that delighted him.
Aileen propped herself up on her elbow to look down at him. “Did you see it?” she whispered.
The Hawk smiled and stroked her cheek. “I saw it, lady mine. I saw that we are each wrought solely for the other, from that day through all time.” He ran his thumb across her smooth flesh and made a confession long overdue. “I love you, lady mine, with all my heart and soul.”
Her smile was all the answer that he needed, though her kiss was a marvel he would not refuse.
Epilogue
The Hawk’s family gathered at Inverfyre for Midsummer and the Feast of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist on the following day, as was their wont.
Horns were sounded from the high walls of Inverfyre when the party was spied upon the road. The villagers clustered along the roadway, intent upon seeing the finery of the visitors. The Hawk and Aileen stood at the portal of the keep, the Hawk’s cohorts standing to his either side. Tarsuinn the falconer stood with them, then the ladies Aileen had taken into the household to train arrayed themselves on either side. Those who labored in the kitchens and the hall stood in a row behind.
All were garbed in their best and a sense of festivity filled the air. Smiles were plentiful and eyes were sparkling, even as the merry sun herself glinted on gems and polished buckles. Aileen caught her breath at the splendor of the company that spilled through the gates.
Their horses were fine beasts with long tails and manes, and they pranced as if they knew the import of the occasion. Two banners were carried before the company, a dark banner the Hawk told Aileen was that of Ravensmuir, and one with a burning orb which he said to be of Kinfairlie.
Squires flanked the first noble couple in the party—a dark-haired knight and a red-haired lady rode larger steeds than the company surrounding them. They were of an age with her father, though handsome. Their horses had silver bells hanging from their harnesses, and the bells tinkled merrily as the company advanced. Their harnesses were finely wrought of colored leather and Aileen thought that gems glistened, both on the saddle and on the lady’s fingers. They were dressed in silk, this pair, their garb lavishly embroidered and embellished, the fur-lined cloak of each held on the shoulder with a large ornate broach.
They held hands as they rode, and Aileen noted that the lady cast many uncertain glances at her steed.
“My aunt and uncle, Ysabella and Merlyn, Lady and Laird of Kinfairlie,” the Hawk murmured in her ear. “Ysabella has never had a fondness for riding.”
Aileen could not imagine why, for the older woman looked most elegant upon her steed and rode with grace.
Behind this pair, rode a dark-haired man alone. He seemed more sober than most, his smile thin as he glanced over Inverfyre’s high walls and its villagers.
He smiled when he spied the Hawk, the expression taking years from his manner. “You have made many changes since last I rode this way!” he called to the Hawk by way of greeting.
Aileen watched her husband smile in his turn as he waved in acknowledgment. “My cousin, Tynan, accompanied me when first I came to Inverfyre, then was obliged to return to the administration of Ravensmuir. When he reached his eighteenth summer, Merlyn relinquished the lairdship of Ravensmuir to his son, then bent his attention upon rebuilding Kinfairlie.”
“Why?”
“Ravensmuir would ultimately become Tynan’s holding and Merlyn wished him to learn his responsibility while he had recourse to good counsel. By then, the damage from Ravensmuir’s fire had been repaired, while Kinfairlie was still in ashes. It had been razed to the ground before Ysabella was even a glimmer in her mother’s eye and is her ancestral holding.”
Aileen granted her husband a wry glance. “You are much vexed by fires in this clan.”
The Hawk smiled. “A timber keep, even if faced with stone, is most susceptible. The new walls of all these keeps are built to withstand such treachery.”
She indicated Tynan with a lift of her chin. “Your cousin appears to be a most sober man.”
/> The Hawk seemed to fight his laughter. “He has traveled in the company of Rosamunde. I have no doubt that he has been sorely vexed by her.”
“They do not like each other?”
The Hawk shrugged. “They infuriate each other. I suspect, in truth, that Rosamunde vexes Tynan apurpose. Look! Roland, my milk cousin, has come with his wife and children!”
“God in Heaven, how many children do they have?” Aileen whispered as the large party came into view. There were many children, all dressed splendidly as if they were the progeny of a nobleman.
“Eight,” the Hawk said with a wink.
“And there is not a one of them even old enough to earn his spurs!”
“I hear ’tis cold in Kinfairlie in the winter,” the Hawk jested. “Though I do not doubt that Roland welcomes his father’s aid with the administration of that estate.”
Though finely dressed, the children were clearly restless. Roland waved heartily and was the first to dismount. He aided his wife from her saddle, then loosed his children. He laughed as they scattered. Two scampered directly for Ahearn, who was clearly a favorite. He swung them high and teased them, as Nissa watched with a smile. Roland crossed the bailey to the Hawk, and Aileen liked the merry twinkle in his eyes.
One of the children shrieked, another shouted and Roland’s wife shook her finger in the direction that the majority of them had disappeared. “Mind your new garb!” she cried so good-naturedly that Aileen knew she was well accustomed to such foolery. “Remain out of both millpond and stables, if you please, at least until you meet your new cousin.”
There was no reply to her command, merely more giggles. She spared a glance for her husband and rolled her eyes, her expression making him chuckle.
“By the time we depart, you will be persuaded to remain chaste all your days and nights,” he teased, sparing a wink for the Hawk.
The Hawk’s grip tightened over Aileen’s fingers, for their lovemaking had already conjured results. They had agreed to tell his mother the news first, so held their tongues at this moment.
Boys from the village who had been trained for this moment leaped forward as the company dismounted to lead the horses to the stables. They would see the beasts brushed and tended, under the ostler’s stern eye.
Introductions were made and greetings exchanged, a warmth lighting around Aileen’s heart that the Hawk’s family accepted her so readily into their brood.
Carts and maids and palfreys crowded into the bailey as the family spoke, then another banner was carried in triumph through the gates. Aileen began to fret about the amount of food prepared in the kitchens, for she had not anticipated so large a company.
“Do you think we will have sufficient fish for the meal this day?” she asked her husband in a whisper. “The eels are not so prolific as yet though the miller’s son has labored hard.”
The Hawk caught her close against his side. “What we have will suffice. I knew my family would arrive in full this year, so fear not, lady mine.”
“Because the capture of all of Inverfyre is worthy of celebration?” she asked, letting him see her pride in him.
“Indeed.” He smiled slowly. “Though my mother will be as intent upon meeting my new bride as visiting the chapel once again. Fear not—they come for the company more than the fare.”
The clarion sounded again and another party rode through the gates. The villagers began to cheer and Aileen guessed why. “This is the Lammergeier banner, then?” she asked.
“It is no other. Come and meet my parents.” The Hawk caught her hand in his and led her to meet the pair that had ridden through the gates.
Their steeds were as dark and as large as the stallions favored by the Hawk and his men, and Aileen understood from whence this magnificent lineage had come. The woman’s hair was dark, like the Hawk’s, but threaded with silver, while the man was tall and fair. The man dismounted, then aided his wife to do so, and Aileen saw that there were tears in the older woman’s eyes.
“Aileen, meet my father, Gawain, and my mother, Evangeline.”
Gawain granted Aileen a crooked smile that reminded her of the one the Hawk could conjure when he so chose. He bent over her hand with a flourish and kissed her knuckles. “It is a delight to make your acquaintance,” he said. There was devilry in his eyes and Aileen imagined that the children would be smitten with him as well.
“The Lady of Inverfyre,” Evangeline murmured, smiling through her tears. She was a beautiful woman, her features strong, and she moved with grace. “I am delighted to meet you, Aileen.” She kissed Aileen’s cheek, her touch as light as a brush of a feather though it warmed Aileen to her toes.
“You asked us to accompany Inverfyre’s new priest,” Gawain said, then turn and gestured to the simply garbed man who slipped from his saddle when indicated. His name was Father Gilchrist, the same as the priest at Abernye, and Aileen smiled at the coincidence. She greeted him warmly, as did her husband.
“I hope you have slept well these past weeks,” Aileen told the priest. His brows rose in silent query. “You have much labor awaiting you here, for there are children to be christened and marriages to be blessed and many confessions to be heard afore we celebrate the mass on the morrow.”
He smiled with confidence. “I welcome the challenge, my lady. Surely I will not be forsaken in doing God’s work?” He chuckled along with Aileen, and she liked his manner. The Hawk had chosen well when he had journeyed to Edinburgh in the spring to find a priest and she gave him a smile that showed her pleasure.
“Michael!” shouted a woman who rode last through the gates, in defiance of protocol, her steed galloping with haste. Her hair was long and as fair as gilded sunlight, and though she must have bound it neatly that morn, tendrils escaped her braid. She leaped from the saddle with astonishing agility and Aileen thought she heard Sebastien catch his breath. “You have made a millpond in this wretched wilderness! And there are walls built around the old chapel now! Zounds, but you are becoming a respectable laird, little brother!”
With that, she threw herself upon the Hawk, landing a tempest of kisses upon his cheeks while he laughed. “Rosamunde, you will persuade my new wife that my mistress has arrived.”
She laughed in her turn. “To couple with one’s sister would be disgusting beyond belief. I do not believe you capable of such a foul deed,” she chided cheerfully, then turned a bright smile upon Aileen. “So, you are the woman who finally captured the Hawk’s reluctant heart?” she demanded, an approving light in her eyes. “I can see why, for it is clear the match favors both of you.”
Before Aileen could summon a word, Rosamunde seized her shoulders and kissed her heartily upon both cheeks. “Be happy, Aileen. That is my wish for you both,” she whispered, then winked as she stepped back.
Sebastien clutched at his heart and feigned a swoon. Rosamunde watched him and laughed merrily. “What a woman!” he cried, and she laughed louder.
Tynan shook his head and turned away, his manner grim. Aileen watched Evangeline note Tynan’s response, then exchange a thoughtful glance with her spouse. Clearly, there was some old tale at root of this, though Aileen did not dare to ask after it as yet.
“We have brought you gifts, Aileen,” Evangeline said. “For any lady has need of a garden to take a repose, and we knew full well that Inverfyre’s garden was long destroyed.”
“Indeed,” Ysabella said with resolve, quickly pointing out the box that she wished to have brought before them. It was more like a cage, its sides and top wrought with holes, and Aileen could not imagine what it contained.
Ysabella unfastened the buckles and threw back the lid. “I brought you a hazel, from my own garden,” she said, her tone crisp. “It is a most practical tree, for it will bear nuts in time, which one can eat in harsh times.”
Evangeline laughed with affection. “Ysabella is always certain that dark times could lie ahead.”
“And so they could,” that woman agreed, though she smiled at Merlyn. “Though
some of us are better at keeping them at bay.”
“And I brought you a honeysuckle,” Evangeline declared. “Also from Ysabella’s garden, for I feared her gift was too pragmatic. You have need of beauty and scent in a garden, and so you will have both from this vine. Look, it has made a blossom even as we journeyed!”
Rosamunde stepped forward and gestured to the third plant nestled in the box. “And I have brought you the plant without which no lady’s garden can be complete. My mother and aunt insist it will die in this clime, and that it is no gift to bring something so ill-fated, but my heart is more merry than theirs.”
“It is a rose,” Aileen whispered despite the lump in her throat.
“You know it?” Rosamunde demanded with delight. “I thought you were raised even further north than Inverfyre?” A wicked gleam lit her eyes. “Could it be that my aunt and mother are mistaken?”
Aileen smiled. “My mother grew them, though not easily, at Abernye.” She reached out and touched the green leaves of the plant and was pleased with its vigor.
“Its roses are as red as blood,” Rosamunde confided. “And smell more sweetly than the finest perfume in Constantinople.”
“I thank you,” Aileen said hoarsely. “The red blooms were my mother’s favorites.” She turned to the other women and smiled. “I thank you all for your kindness. I have yearned for a garden and these gifts will begin it well.”
She knew the Hawk understood that she was thinking of the garden in her memory palace, as well as the honeysuckle and hazel that had appeared in her visions. Her chest was tight with emotion, for these guests had unwittingly chosen the perfect gifts for her, and she was deeply touched.
But there would be time aplenty for expressing her gratitude more fully. Their guests were tired, hungry and thirsty. It was time to show the Hawk’s hospitality.
“I bid you all welcome to Inverfyre,” Aileen said, encompassing the entire company with a gesture. “And heartily anticipate the chance to know you all better. Come, come into the hall and partake of the meal that has been prepared.”
Stolen Brides: Four Beauty-and-the-Beast Medieval Romances Page 92