Page 18 of The Daughters of Avalon
Of course, at the time, anything—including death—had seemed better than finding herself wed to Cael d’Lucy. Now, however, her choices seemed limited, and, despite that it may have spared her some embarrassment in such close proximity, her choice of clothing seemed unfortunate, for how could she arrive at Amdel—or any place else—wearing men’s attire? Never in her life had she encountered any woman wearing men’s garb—not even her sister Matilda, who dared so much. Surely, it would raise suspicion. And what then? What if this lord of Amdel should demand to know from whence she’d come? What would Elspeth say? What would Malcom say?
And then, it occurred to Elspeth that they hadn’t ridden so far since he’d threatened to put her off his mount. “Is this the same lord you claimed to despise?”
He took a while to answer, but said, “Aye.”
Why?She wondered. Was he loyal to her sister? Could she dare to hope for such a stroke of good fortune? In such case, no matter how grateful she might be to Malcom for having abetted her escape, she would have to speak up and ask the man for sanctuary. She hoped that would be the case and she wasglad now that she hadn’t disclosed more of her circumstances to Malcom. In her father’s house she’d been protected; under Stephen’s reign, she was mostly ignored; now that she was away from the priory, she must be so careful who she allowed too close. It was never far from her mind that women were put to the stake for less than what she and her sisters had done.
And yet, if, indeed, this lord of Amdel was a loyalist for her sister, would Malcom dare consider stopping for the evening? Wouldn’t he prefer that inn to an enemy’s abode? Or even a campfire out of sight?
Rhiannon,she begged.Help me, please.
Silence returned to her—an empty, weighted silence that fell like an anvil pressed against her ribs making it difficult to breathe and making her long to weep.
And sleep.
Why couldn’t she shake this languor? She was like a sleepy babe, content to while away the day in her mother’s arms, waking only when necessary.
Once again, she tried to read Malcom as her sister might have done, but his thoughts eluded her. It was just as well, because that type of connection could never be made without consequence. As it was, she was terrified he might discover who—and what—she was, and then everything could change with the snap of his fingers. The consequences could be far, far worse than merely being left alone to walk, and perhaps this was why she’d felt most comfortable with her ire?
Still considering his question, she remained tongue-tied—unsure how to respond. After all, what could possibly be her final destination?
After a long, long while—longer yet than she’d spent deliberating—he finally said, “If you wish it, I would give you sanctuary at Aldergh.”
Surprised by the offer, Elspeth drew in a breath. She turned in the saddle, attempting to meet Malcom’s sea-green eyes. “You would?”
He pulled at the reins, bringing Merry Bells to a halt. “Aye, lass. I can see you’re in need of succor and I would give it without question.”
Confused by his generosity, Elspeth said nothing. Already, she owed him so much, and she must find a way to repay him if she could.
In the blink of an eye, he slid down his horse, alighting on his feet, releasing the reins as he peered up at Elspeth, and for a long, tense moment, Elspeth was acutely aware that she could so easily fly away and leave him stranded—on this land belonging to that man he detested—just as he had threatened to do to her.
If she dared to do it, she would have his saddlebag for the effort, and no doubt a few coins as well. And perhaps then she would have enough to book passage to Rouen, where she’d heard her sister had gone, but Malcom had done naught to deserve any such treatment. So she could not do it.
But somehow, though she could not read his mind, he must have read hers. His bright green eyes glinted, though not with mirth. And nevertheless, he handed Elspeth the reins to his horse—only daring her to go. And furthermore, he turned his back on her, moving to his satchel.
Hie now,a little demon taunted.Go, nowwhilst you can. But this, too, was not Rhiannon. It was her own little demon clinging to her shoulder, trembling in fear.
Elspeth lapped at her lips gone dry. “You… you have been kind to me. Perhaps you could tell me… Malcom…” She peered down at Merry Bells’ reins in her hand. “Why would you embroil yourself in affairs not your own?”
She heard that he opened his satchel and felt his glance on her back as she fiddled with Merry Bells’ reins. “Because youasked for help and I would never shun a woman in need—but,” he said, in a voice that sounded quite stern, “I would have you ask for succor with your own two lips, rather than assume ’tis what you require.” He continued to rummage through his saddlebag and drew out something rather large, then came about and stood before Elspeth with a ruby-red cloak in his hands. “A wise man once told me ’tis wiser to ask than to suppose.”
“What man?”
“My Da,” he said and offered her the cloak.
For a befuddled instant, Elspeth was torn, still considering snapping the reins and ordering the horse to bolt, but then he thrust the cloak at her, and she dropped the reins and took his offering, only briefly meeting his gaze. “Tis a… fine… cloak,” she said, squeezing the material. “Fit for a king.” It was, in truth, more splendid than any cloak she’d ever seen, and she wondered if even Matilda, as the widow of a Holy Roman Emperor, had ever owned something so fine.
Ersinius did not, and he lined his coffers with all the gifts he received. So, then, who was this northern lord who could afford such finery?
“It belonged to my grandsire,” he said, as though he’d read Elspeth’s mind. But she knew he could not, because she would havefelthim prying—just as Merry Bells had felt her.
“He must have been a wealthy man,” she said.
“So he was, but wealth alone is not the full measure of prosperity.”
She nodded agreement and smiled. “More wise words from your Da?”
The color in his cheeks heightened. “Nay, lass, those are mine.”
