Page 34 of The Daughters of Avalon
She looked nervous. “Perhaps… perhaps, before explaining to that lord… you might better explain to me?”
Malcom gave her a quick smile, torn between his longing to hold and comfort her and wanting to shake her. Would she dare ask him for more than she was willing to give?
Ignoring her entreaty for the instant, he turned to survey the guest room. It was clean and well kept, and he noted the flagon ofvinand the copper mugs on a table flanked by chairs.
Thirsty as a tippler after a night with Seana’suisge, he made for thevin.
Lifting up the flagon for a sniff, and finding it relatively inoffensive, he poured a few fingers in each glass—one for him, one for Elspeth. And then, remembering theshitethey’d served him last time he’d visited, he lifted up one glass to his lips to taste,before offering it to Elspeth, and then immediately spat it back out, setting down the glass.
Sweet ever-loving mercy—there, she had hervin aigre, only instead of lacing their washbowl, they’d offered it to drink.
Damn Beauchamp—just when he was softening toward the man. He smiled with curses between his teeth and gave them soured wine to drink—or maybe he didn’t know goodvinfrom bad. He certainly drank it himself without discretion. “Drink at your own peril,” Malcom suggested, and sighed wearily, considering the discourse with Beauchamp.
Despite everything, it might in fact prove propitious that they’d ended here today, because he would otherwise never have suggested an alliance with d’Lucy, and Beauchamp seemed quite receptive to the notion—so much so that he would bet the man was off and away, already scheming. All the better for Malcom. He had long tried to convince himself to accept this alliance, but there was nothing to his knowledge that would sweeten any alliance with Beauchamp—not even Dominique’s kindness or beauty. Her brother was a conundrum, for certain. It was impossible to say whether it was true that he was a miscreant, or just a fool with very poor judgment.
The small table set for them also offered a trencher of bread with two wee pieces of meat and two slivers of cheese—barely enough for one, but it would do. Malcom had had morethan enough of the cony, but he couldn’t possibly have missed Elspeth’s reluctance to eat it, so he left her the cheese as well as the bread and plucked up a slice of meat, shoving it between his lips.
Salted beef, too chewy, over-salted. He swallowed with some difficulty, and made a face, moving to the window. God’s love, if the man couldn’t put a sword through Malcom’s heart for the insult provided, it seemed he would kill them with kindness and vittles.
Elspeth was still waiting for his answer, he supposed, but Malcom wasn’t feeling particularly generous. He moved to the window, pulling the curtains tighter.
Aldergh had no drapes, but he was grateful for these, nonetheless, because he was hardly accustomed to sleeping during the day, like some Black Donald with cloven feet. The entire situation left him ill at ease.
“Malcom?”
He turned to face her now, and she was looking at him expectantly. “What more would ye ken, lass? Stephen has asked I take his sister to wife, but she does not suit me, and I thank you for holding your tongue.”
“Of course,” she said. “It was the least I could do.”
Nay, Malcom thought. The least she could do was speak the truth—all of it. But he resigned himself to her silence.
On a stand across the room, there stood a small basin for bathing. That too, he would leave for Elspeth and he would wash only after she was through. That way she wouldn’t be forced to bathe in his filth… although, he might need her help to wash and dress his wound.
“Are you inclined to sleep?” he asked. “Or do you prefer to wash first?” And then he added a bit sourly, “I dinna ken if he laced the basin withvin aigre, but he certainly left us plenty to use.” He pointed to the cups.
She shook her head at once. “Oh, nay! I could not,” she said, straightening. “Not… here… with… you…” And then she wrapped his grandfather’s cloak around herself so snugly that she might as well have formed a cocoon. Malcom tried not to chuckle, but failed, despite his pique. And hoping to reassure her, he closed the distance between them, until he stood before her, studying her face, wishing he could read her thoughts. There was a wayward curl that defied her make-do braid, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush it away.
He wondered how she would look in a woman’s garb, with her lovely copper tresses plaited and her face scrubbed pink. “Of course, I would leave,” he said reassuringly. “But if you are inclined to rest, I would like to shut my eyes.” And then he turned and made his way to the chair, and sat, sprawling in the chair as she watched.
Her brows twitched. “You mean to sleep… in that chair?”
“Aye.”
“Oh, but nay! You need not do that! If you but leave me to one side of the bed, that should be enough. ’Tis but that… well…” She looked pained by what she was trying to say. “I thought that… because you said... we were… I was…”
He arched a single brow. “My bride?”
She nodded, and Malcom said, “Elspeth, I would never dishonor you. If I seem cross, ’tis only because I have asked for your candor and you refuse to give it.”
She said nothing, and he looked at her pleadingly. “Am I to go down there and face that man with no more than what you have already given me?”
Chapter
Fourteen
He sat, staring at her expectantly, and Elspeth flushed so intensely that she was forced to shrug off his grandfather’s cloak and lay it down on the bed, suddenly much too warm.
And, then, inexplicably—considering that Beauchamp was already gone, and Malcom had already seen her dressed this way—she felt vulnerable and far too aware of the unflattering way she was dressed, perhaps in part due to the fact that she was now expected to play the role of his lady wife. So, then, as surprised as she had been by his declaration, she trusted there must be a reason.
