Page 63 of The Daughters of Avalon
They rode much of the afternoon in silence, and over the course of the following two days, they traveled by day, staying clear of the king’s roads, and sleeping by night on pallets, snuggling for warmth.
Malcom didn’t try to kiss her again, and neither did Elspeth tempt him—even if she did long to see if she could feel again what she’d felt that night of their vows. But it bedeviled her to know that even ensorcelled, he hadn’t wished to bed her.
Breeding, humph!She was not breeding, and quite likely she would never know the joys of children. Come one year and one day, Malcom would cast her away like that turd Rhiannon promised to cast between her teeth.
In fact, some part of her worried that he knew, deep down, that whatever he felt for her, it wasn’t real, but the problem was… Elspeth was coming to love him, as surely as her bones ached from so many hours in the saddle.
What was love, after all, but a higher form ofmagikborn of faith, trust and affection?
In retrospect, she realized Rhiannon must be right: Whatever care Robert had had for them was perfunctory—as it was with Matilda.
For all that he’d rebuffed her, Malcom was the only man who’d ever truly supported her, in spite of their differences, and despite his fealty to Stephen—even despite the way she’d treated him on the day she’d first met him.
All this time, he’d fed her, cared for her, worried for her, and he’d offered her the ultimate sacrifice of all… he’d wed her. He’d put his entire life on hold, trusting her when she’d claimed that her sisters were in trouble, and without any proof that he could see, he’d ridden to aid them.
Once the spell faded, would he come to regret it?
Don’t think about that, Elspeth.
Don’t think about Rhiannon, or Seren, or Gwen or Arwyn.
Put your best face forward, and do what you must.
Of course, it was sage advice, but whence had it come?
Is it you, Rhiannon?
Silence.
Rhiannon!
With a shudder, she recalled the ravens that were released at Amdel. By now, they would have probably reached her mother. But she tried not to think about that either, lest she summon her mother’shudduwithout intention.
Only considering thegrimoirein his saddlebag, Elspeth peered down at the white ribbon that slipped from her sleeve. Yesterday, she’d attempted to return his ring, but he’d bade her keep it, and remembering it now, she felt for the cold knob between her breast.
What is mine is yours,he’d said—did he mean it?
Regardless… until such time as he should cast her away, Elspeth swore she would make him a good, loyal wife. Somehow, she would repay him for all he had done for her.
You are the lady of Aldergh, she told herself.Raise your chin high.
But this was difficult to remember, hour after hour, mile after mile, as Merry Bells ambled ever northward.
The closer they came to their destination the more anxious Elspeth became. Would they accept her as their lady? Would they come to look at her askance for all her beliefs and herkinship? Would they cross themselves in her presence—or gnash their teeth behind her back?
Malcom’s brooding silence worried her more.
Swallowing her questions, Elspeth watched as the countryside shifted from lowlands to midlands and then into the rugged uplands of the north. “How long before we arrive?” she dared ask when her backside grew numb.
“Four, perhaps five days. I’m reluctant to push Merry Bells more than I have.”
Her bottom ached, but, of course, it must be as it must be, Elspeth told herself. So long as she was with Malcom, she had no complaints over the pace, and she was far less concerned over the journey north than she was over the prospect of leaving her sisters so far behind.
But Malcom’s persistent silence was killing her, because in that silence she imagined all the worst possibilities.
Once again, she tried to engage him. “Why do you call her Merry Bells?”
No answer.
