Chapter Seven
One the fifth day of Yuletide my love gave to me,
his troth, a golden ring and to be cherished for eternity...
Lesslyn opened the lid of the trunk and stood staring down at the garments folded within. Odd, her sister’s cast offs had seemed so beautiful, clothing so fine that she never hoped to wear. Yet, oddly, it made her feel uneasy in a way she could not define. She was dressed in her chemise and a serviceable white under tunic, debating what to put on over it. Elspeth’s gowns were a hand and a half width too short for her, but her longer garment underneath would make it work. The second trunk was full of beautiful velvets, brocades, silks and satins. Soon, she would sew gowns for herself.
Curiously, a premonition, a foreboding, made her fear she had not seen the last of her selfish sibling. Pushing the notion aside, she tried to decide what to wear.
The beautiful blue cotehardie and mantle was likely ruined from the snow and the mud. This morn, she wanted to wear something colorful. No more brown wren. It was a special day: the first one in her new home. Greyson had said he wanted to take her out for a short spell to see a bit of Hellborne’s stronghold, so she should dress warmly. She craved to wear the green brocade, only she had no mantle other than the serviceable brown wool one. She glared at the cloak—a reminder of her past brown life. The sudden urge possessed her: she wanted to burn the ugly thing!
“My lady, what troubles you?” Ena asked, folding the blankets and placing them in a chair.
Lesslyn picked up the green kirtle and shook it out. “I will not hear my lady from you. We grew up as friends. We remain friends. I did not bring you here to be a servant. This is my chance to have a life—a real life. All these years, I feel as though I have lived as a half-invisible, shadow wraith. I know Hellborne Keep is austere, yet it feels like I have stepped out in the bright sunshine by coming to this place. I want you to have a chance, too. You are my companion, my friend, not a servant, Ena.”
Tears flooded Ena’s eyes, the hazel color neither green nor brown. She reached out and hugged her. “Bless you. It hurt me to watch that hateful sister use you, no regard to aught but her feelings, her wants. You deserved better.”
“You do, too.” Lesslyn handed Ena her kerchief to dab at her eyes. “Mayhap ’tis Yuletide magic, but I sense we shall find that here.”
“So, what shall you wear your first morn here? I cannot wait until we have a place to start cutting and sewing new garments for you.”
“And you,” Lesslyn added.
Ena’s eyes went wide. “I do no’ think there is material enough for me. I took some of the best pieces from Elspeth’s trunk. She was leaving the lot at Sancerre, so I figured she was not planning on using it.”
“We shall buy more fabric. I am sure she thinks Aristide will provide her with a seamstress.”
Ena laughed. “He better. The fool woman canno’ sew a lick to save herself. Just think. In a day, you shall be a countess. You needs must dress like one. You plan to wear the green kirtle? It will be lovely on you.”
Lesslyn hesitated. “I only have my woolen mantle. ’Tis warm, but so old.”
Ena’s face brightened, as she spun about and dashed out of the chambers. Hellborne had Ena placed in a room just down the hall, so she could be close. Gone only a few heartbeats, she returned with her arms full of pale grey material. “I think this will be fit for a new countess. I was sewing this for your Yule gift. The grey is such a pretty shade. ’Tis almost silver. Nearly the color of his eyes.”
Lesslyn took the grey mantle, and allowed it to unfold. It was a soft spun wool, so fine it was supple instead of the courser, heavier yarn usually found in mantles. “Ena, ’tis gorgeous! This is much too beautiful for—”
“A countess?” Ena’s brows lifted in challenge. “Wear the green kirtle. With the silver mantle you will look like the lady of Yule. Come, let us get you ready to greet the day and your betrothed.”
• ♥ •
Grantham laid his mantle across the back of the lord’s chair. He then picked up the leather pouch on the table and weighed its heaviness in his hand. He hoped she would like it.
Elspeth. His mind whispered the name. He supposed he would grow used to it. ’Twas not that the name was unappealing. Somehow, it did not fit her. He could imagine it belonging to the woman Greyson had described—the shrew, used to getting her way for far too long. Only, the woman whom he held in the snow simply did not seem like an Elspeth. She was a strong person, one who would fight for her life against an attacker, instead of standing there screaming. Nonetheless, her gentleness called to his soul.
Greyson would laugh at him, most likely. His cold brother would find spending good coin on her gifts frivolous. One Bride’s Gift should be enough for any woman—he could almost hear Greyson’s voice chiding him. After seeing how meager her belongings were, he knew he had done right. He witnessed her expression when he had presented her with his mother’s necklace. He would give her the world to see her lovely face lit with happiness for the remainder of their lives. He desired to stand before her as her protector, and to share the coming days. Strange, he had been so resistant to the tides of his taking Greyson’s place in this marriage. Now, he breathed in eagerness.
“Mayhap the tap on the head changed her mien,” he muttered to himself, as he opened the bag to examine the fine chain of gold.
“Did you say something, Grantham?” John asked, coming up on his right side.
He looked up at his knight and flinched at hearing his own name. “Merely talking to myself.”
“Having second thoughts?” his friend asked.
He shook his head. “Nay, just to hear my name at present makes my heart stutter.”
John regarded him in all seriousness. “Do you think you can carry out this deception for long? I fear the priest and the cleric were disapproving when Greyson sign papers making you his heir. What about the marriage—will it be legal if you speak vows using your brother’s name?”
“Greyson covered all arising problems. The priest assured him, if you stand before God and plight your troth, it is a true bond—no matter what name you say, because God knows who you truly are.” Now that he had met Elspeth, and was coming to care for her, the deception put a dark tinge on the looming marriage. He hoped when they were old and grey they would laugh at the unlikely circumstances that had forged the links to their bond. Tamping down the guilt, he knew he could not tell her the truth and risk losing her.
“You seem quite taken with the lady,” John commented, a grin forming his face.
Grantham dropped the chain back into the brown pouch, and pulled the string shut. “Yes, I am. I did not expect to be. Still, from that first moment when I saw her lying in the snow...I felt...” He reached for the words to explain, but was at a loss. “I am not a bard to wax poetic about such things. As soon as I looked at her, I simply felt a rightness. From that point on, that a king commanded the marriage held no significance. Had we met as strangers on that snowy road, I would have pursued her, offered for her. All this...is a grand change in my course in life, but one I am embracing.”
“A big change for me, too. We both know you should have never knighted me. I cannot afford the horse flesh, armor, and a living to support that rank,” John sat down on the bench.
Grantham studied the auburn-haired knight. Third son of a minor baron, John had come to service at Hellsgate. Together, they had been squires for his Uncle Garrick de Verre, at the remote holding on the northern most point of The Marches. When they saved Garrick’s life on a field of battle in Wales, his uncle had knighted him, and given John release to serve Grantham. They had ridden beside each other for too many years. His friend deserved rewarding for that loyalty.
“Think not upon those concerns. Horses and weapons are things, which I now have aplenty. I have need of a man I can trust. Running Hellborne and Hellsgate shall be an encompassing and continual task. I cannot think of anyone I wouldst rather have at my side than you.” Grantham accepted a goblet of wine from the page, holding out a tray, and waited until John took one as well. “Let us raise our cups to the coming nuptials and the bright prospects for us both—”
His words died as he saw Elspeth and Ena coming into the Great Hall. She was dressed in a gown of deep green, which showed her womanly shape to an advantage. The low, square neck set off the garnet necklace, twinkling at the top of the shadowed valley between her high, rounded breasts. Her long hair had been braided with silver and fell over her left shoulder and down to her waist.
Yes, this was a woman he would pursue—to the ends of the earth, if need.
• ♥ •
Lesslyn hesitated. Hellborne was staring at her so intently; she wondered if she had done something wrong. Her newfound spirit of sureness almost flagged, until his mouth spread into a grin. Ena, two steps behind, held out the hooded grey cape to her.
“Before you don that, I have a gift for you,” Hellborne said. He was dressed in a dark grey surcoat, the deep color emphasizing the paleness of his eyes.
Her hand went to the garnet, hanging just between her breasts. “But you already gave me this lovely treasure.”
“That was my Bride’s Gift. I had this made for Yuletide.” He pulled the drawstring open, and allowed the shimmer of gold to fall into his palm. Allowing the length to unfurl, he worked the clasp. Reaching for her, he looped the chain about her waist and fastened it, so the long lengths fell below her knees. “There. You look every measure a countess now.”
Lesslyn shivered. Partially from his closeness, but more so from that foreboding that had raised its head earlier. Life was never kind to her. She had grown up not expecting it to be. Now, by this strange twist of fate, she was being offered all she ever wanted. Dreams did not travel in this direction for her. A specter of iniquity hovered in the shadows, waiting to snatch this beautiful dream away from her.
He looked perplexed. “You do not like it?”
On impulse, she took is hand. There was such strength in it that she was startled by the sense of power. “’Tis beautiful. I never hoped to own anything so special. Your generosity leaves me without words. I give thanks, my lord.”
Hellborne took the mantle from Ena and laid it upon her shoulders. “We must hurry. There is much to see and do this day, and little time. Dark shall be upon us before we know it.” He glanced back to Ena. “You are not coming with us?”
Ena shrugged. “I fear my mantle is still soaking wet, my lord.”
“You can use my brown one,” Lesslyn reminded.
John jumped to his feet. “Use mine, Lady Ena,” he said, picking up his from the bench. “I can fetch another.”
Ena blushed, as he tugged the black cape about her. “I needs must remind you, Sir Knight, I am no’ a lady.”
Hellborne snugged up Lesslyn’s hood, and fastened the catches at her neck. “I fear the snow is still coming down. But we will not be out long. Come.”
Lesslyn allowed him to lead her from the Keep and down the steps, which had been swept of the snow. At the bottom waited horses. One caught her eye, a palfrey of pure white, so white it appeared as if it had materialized from the storm.
“You like her?” Hellborne asked, as they stopped before the animal.
Lesslyn petted the mare’s velvety nose. “She’s beautiful. So beautiful I expect one of the Fae will be along to collect her.”
“Her name is Eira. She’s Welsh bred and trained. And she is yours.” His eyes were bright as he watched her.
“Mine?” She put her arms around the horse’s neck and hugged her. “Eira.” At her name, the horse murmured deep in its throat. “What does it mean?”
“She is aptly named. ’Tis Welsh for snowfall.” He laughed softly. “You hugged the horse. What about me. Do I not get one?”
Stepping to him, she slid her hands around his waist and leaned into his embrace. His great cape closed about her, buffering her against the falling snow. The moment spun out as her eyes lifted to meet his, a shard of time so precious that would remain pure and clear in her heart forever.
Lesslyn felt a strange compulsion to laugh and cry in the same breath. Everything was too perfect. She had never felt such happiness, yet in the same instant, she was growing panicked that it would all be stolen away.