Page 59 of The Daughters of Avalon
“No worries, m’lord. God will provide his own rewards.”
Malcom nodded, then, reluctantly, went after his horse. He mounted, then peered at the girl one last time.Art certain, Rhiannon?
I go where I need to go,she said again.I go where I will best contend with my mother.
And nevertheless, he hesitated, knowing full well that Elspeth would demand to know why he’d left her.
Tell her what I said. She will not like it, but she will understand. Please tell her for me… when she fears most what to do, she must raise her hand… and believe.
“Very well,” he said, scratching his head. “Hold tight, lads.” He gave them a nod. “Help’ll be along soon.”
“Thank you, m’lord. Don’t worry about us. We’re on to Blackwood soon enough.”
“Very well,” Malcom said, once again, ruefully, then snapped Merry Bells’ reins. And the last thing Rhiannon said to him filled his heart with relief, then dread.
Your father is not ill. But hie thee north. Call your banners. War is nigh.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Elspeth awoke before the cock’s crow.
She dressed again in the pale-blue gown Dominque had loaned her because she felt overdressed in the scarlet. Had the sendal not been so diaphanous, she would have made do with that alone, because, in truth, even the blue gown was more luxurious than any dress she’d ever owned. Made of linsey-woolsey, its design was simple enough, but the seams were delicately sewn, with exquisite appliqué about the sleeves, hem and bodice. Although Elspeth didn’t care much for the cut of the bodice itself, it was little more revealing than the scarlet she’d worn. And regardless, it was better than the Llanthony tunic she’d arrived in.
However, it seemed to Elspeth that Dominique’s brother shouldn’t encourage such immodesty in a young woman. If, in truth, this was now the style, it would be difficult for Elspeth to grow accustomed to it, having lived so long in a priory. Especially now, having been in William’s presence and noted his lechery, as far as she was concerned, it was ill-advised to tempt a man she did not intend to wed, and for Elspeth, there was only one man she ever cared to entice.
Malcom.
Where are you?
This was a first for her: pining over the company of a man—and, nay, it hadn’t nary as much to do with her sordid predicament as it did a simple, but overwhelming desire to see him—to see with her own two eyes that he was unharmed.
Somehow, over such a short time, she had swiftly grown accustomed to Malcom’s company, and the precious moments they’d shared the night before he’d left were sweet enough that she could have languished in his arms.
He’d snuggled himself behind her, holding her close, and she’d fallen asleep with his hand clasping hers. As little as she’d ever trusted anyone except her sisters, she knew the disparity of trust even more acutely now, with the shadow of the lord of Amdel hanging over her shoulder—that man, she did not trust at all.
Intending to make her way into the garden to pass her time, Elspeth didn’t wait to be called upon by Dominique or Alyss. She hung her makeshift purse on her belt and tied a single ribbon about her thick hair to keep it from her face whilst she toiled in the garden.
Anyway, she was annoyed. Those two silly chits had imbibed too much the night before and both had stumbled away from the hall, giggling like little girls, leaving Elspeth alone to entertain Dominique’s strange brother.
All those presentiments she’d had upon arriving at Amdel had come crashing down, leaving her ill at ease the entire evening, and hardly in any mood for drink or banter. If anything, she’d found herself growing more and more vexed at Dominique for her unwavering naiveté, despite that she realized it was a function of her age. But, of course, she must think everything beautiful, everything magical, and everyone honorable—including her lord brother.
Fie on that man!
Just as soon as William had become preoccupied with a serving woman—so much for his attachment to Alyss—Elspeth slipped away, none the wiser, and ran to hide in her chamber, wishing Malcom would hurry back—and more, that when she opened her eyes, he would be there already, lying beside her.
Not for the first time, she tugged at the ribbon tied around her wrist, pulling it between her fingers, before tucking it away inside her sleeve.
Last night, for some odd reason, she’d been compelled to hide it, despite that she doubted the lord of Amdel would even comprehend what it meant. Handfasting had never been much of an English custom. And regardless, even if he could perceive it, there was no one to say they’d not handfasted long before arriving at Amdel. Even so, she was embarrassed that he so obviously believed Malcom had married her only because he’d “put a babe in her belly.” Clearly, he thought her unchaste, and ready to try another man’s favor. The very thought of it sickened her belly.
If only he knew: Elspeth had offered herself up for Malcom’s pleasure and he’d put her aside without so much as a thought—it was only now that this simple truth began to gnaw at her.
Did she not appeal to him? Was he perhaps struggling with whatever feelings her sister had imbued in him—or did he somehow realize that, without the enchantment, he’d no more embroil himself in this mess than he would have kissed Matilda’s feet?
Rhiannon, she said, furiously.Oh, Rhiannon!
Of course, she expected no response, and neither did she receive one.
