Page 69 of The Daughters of Avalon
Rolling instinctively to regain control, Malcom carried her with him, so that she lay beneath him. He peered down into her beautiful violet eyes, willing her to understand all that was in his heart. “Elspeth,” he said gruffly. “If you stay with me, I will promise you my heart and soul.”
“I wish to be your wife, in truth,” she said again, insistently, and Malcom’s heart flowered with joy. Eager to lose himself in the promise of her arms, he thrust her gown aside, regretting the time and place and slowly pushed himself inside her. Groaning with pent up desire, he swallowed her soft cries with his mouth. And then, all thought was banished as she moved beneath him like a siren, taunting, teasing…
She reached for him, wrapping her arms and legs about his middle greedily and Malcom abandoned himself to her.
By the light of a Bright Moon, they made love by the fire, binding themselves together.
“You are mine,” he said sweetly, and promised, “I am yours…”
The following morning,it surprised Elspeth to learn how close they were to Aldergh. Perhaps intending to surprise her, Malcom hadn’t said a word. They arrived midmorning to much hustle and bustle.
The castel itself reminded Elspeth of the rough and rubble Roman fortresses so predominant throughout the country of her birth. Only the landscape here was different—flat-topped hills in the wake of the Pennines, covered with cottongrass, purple moor grass and heath rush.
Along the journey north, they had skirted about the mountains. However, now they found themselves nestled along the foothills generously peppered with oak and maple groves.
With its soaring corner towers and a massive curtain wall, the castel itself seemed impervious to intruders, and with bulwarks like these under his rule, it was no wonder Stephen managed to hold onto his throne. Whatever ground Matilda might gain, there would always be strongholds like these to prevent her from seizing the rest, and unless she turned the hearts of these men, her cause would be lost. Merely gazing upon her new home gave lie to any hope she had for her sister’s triumph. But now, how could she dare hope for Matilda’s victory when winning meant a defeat for Malcom?
Reining in Merry Bells, Malcom sat for a moment, perhaps to allow Elspeth time to take in the remarkable sight of her new abode.
Merry Bells seemed to scent where she was, because the horse danced beneath them like a child filled with excitement. Elspeth herself took in a lungful of air, scenting the heath rush.
Malcom said after a moment, “God’s truth… I never grow tired of seeing it from this vantage. ’Tis hardly a thing I ever dreamt I would do as a boy.” And the look in his eyes held a certain wistfulness.
Of course, she could see why he would be proud; even Blackwood wasn’t so sizable. If there was aught about her family’s ancestral home that surpassed this stronghold, it was merely its position so high atop the Black Mountains. Also like Blackwood, this was no upstart castel; it was built for the ages, added upon little by little, until it seemed particularly… monstrous—a miscellany of construction, with red stone and yellow. A band of red brick in the Roman fashion wove itself along the entire edifice, continuing from the wall into the two multangular towers that stood on either side of the fort. The rough and rubble wall itself had putlog holes to provide for the platformed floor inside and she knew this because it mirrored the construction at Blackwood—even down to the arched entryways.
“My grandfather added the moat,” he said, pointing it out. “I expanded it and constructed the new bridge. The corner towers were two; I built the third and fourth.”
“Tis…” Elspeth nodded, uncertain what to say. It certainly wasn’t beautiful by any means, but it wasn’t poor. “Tis…”
Malcom laughed. “Tis ours,” he said, finishing for her at last, as he tightened the arm about her waist, reassuring her. “It seems formidable from this vantage, but I can assure you that you will have every comfort within.”
That wasnotwhat Elspeth was concerned about at all. She had lived crudely for most of her life. Whatever creature comforts she would enjoy inside her new home, she would appreciate beyond measure. But whilst it didn’t have precisely the aura Amdel had, it was still… unnerving.
For the most part, she couldn’t quite tell whether she had this strange hesitancy because of the castel itself, or whether it was her terror over being judged by its people.
Early this morning, they had awakened together, arms and legs entwined, and Malcom had kissed her firmly upon the lips, then as though he were a practiced lady’s maid, he’d helped Elspeth dress. And if that were not enough, he’d combed the mess of her tangles with his fingertips, and then plaited her hair in much the same fashion she’d had done the night of their vows. For all that anyone could tell, she was a proper lady arrived at her new home—a lady dressed in fine linsey-woolsey, and once again, she bemoaned the fact that she’d left the scarlet at Amdel. How striking it would have been to arrive home dressed as the lord and lady in matching finery.
In the distance, Elspeth heard the creaking and groaning of metal as the heavy portcullis rose. Even without banners, they knew their lord and were prepared to welcome him.
“The portcullis itself is rather ingenious, he said. “Normally, in times of war, you would cut ropes to close it quickly. But my grandfather employed engineers to design a clasp that would release with the turn of a latch. As far as I have seen, it is not a well-used design.” He leaned his chin on her shoulder, pointing to the left of the castel. “There’s a postern gate as well, but I keep it sealed.”
Elspeth nodded. “So, did your grandsire inherit the estate?”
“Nay,” he said. “He did not. Though I cannot glean more than that it was once a Roman bastion, built around the same time as York. But, unlike York, this fortress was destroyed before the Roman’s departed. It was my grandsire who seized upon its potential and with your father’s blessings, he created this monstrosity.”
Aye, so that was the word Elspeth might have used:Monstrosity.
Instinctively, her fingers moved to her braided necklace and she drew it out of her gown, clasping the signet ring. “He must have been a great man,” she said, for lack of a better thing to say. If his grandsire had answered to her father, it was because Henry had considered him worthy.
“Hardly,” Malcom replied. “But he made up for it in the end.”
“How so?”
“By dying,” he said, and snapped Merry Bells reins.
Elspeth frowned. It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested his grandsire’s disfavor, but Elspeth held her tongue, leaving this discussion for another day. Now was not the time to broach unhappy memories. They were home now, at last. Sweet fates, but she was nervous.
The gates opened wide to greet them. But, unlike at Amdel, there were smiles aplenty for them once they crossed the bridge.
