ASKING A QUESTION
“No.”
Blaine stood where he was, opposite his lordship's heavy wooden desk. He met his angry gaze. Inside he was trembling with a kind of silent fury.
“I will not accept that answer.”
His lordship, Lord Brien, earl of Lochlann, jerked as he said that. Turned to glare at him. He looked, to Blaine, as if he was about to have a seizure. His eyes were wide and bulging, and he looked as if he was struggling to breathe.
Blaine waited tranquilly for the tirade. It came.
“You think to refute me! I am the earl of Lochlann! Who, pray, are you? You are a man in my employ! A mere guardsman!” He snapped the words at Blaine, voice hard in the quiet.
Between the two men, the cold stone office settled to silence. All Blaine could hear was the whistle of wind as it hissed across the turret windows, cold and hushed.
“I am a mere guardsman, yes,” Blaine replied evenly. “One who has won several decisive victories for your men. If you would prefer it, I will leave your service. But I will not be leaving without Chrissie.” His voice was quiet, but firm. It cut through the navy darkness of the room and made his lordship pause.
“You bastard,” his lordship said, a harsh laugh stopping his words. “You think you'll have her dowry to live on, don't you. Well, you won't. You won't see a penny of it. Now what will you do?”
“I never intended to live on her dowry,” Blaine said placidly. “I will find some other means. I would not exploit my wife. That money is hers, or yours. Not mine.”
Lord Brien glared at him. Then he laughed, lips raised in a razor like smile.
“You really think to convince me, don't you?”
Blaine shrugged. “Not really. I need your consent for a formality only. I will do this anyway. I would just like to do it properly. That is all.”
His lordship glared at him. His face had changed from red to blanched white. His eyes were wide. He opened his mouth and closed it, lips a hard line.
“You leave me no choice, I see.”
Blaine wondered where his own words were coming from. He would never, in his wildest dreams, have imagined he could talk like this. Be so confident, so settled. He was transformed at least for the present. He cleared his throat.
“I leave you choice,” he said reasonably. “With your blessing or without it. This marriage will happen. It is your choice how.”
His lordship laughed. “Fine,” he said lightly. “But know this. You will have no support from me. You will be cut off forever. Penniless. I will not help you.”
Blaine took in a shuddering breath. As a man-at-arms, he had the hope of finding a patron – much as he had here – and earning his board. He could try out for some secular order of knights, and pray they took him in.
With Chrissie by my side, any hardships would be almost enjoyable. And everyone would like her so much that the knights would take us in just to have her around.
He nodded to his lordship.
“Very well. I accept that condition. Now, may I go and speak to Chrissie? I think she needs to know.”
“Pah!” Lord Brien waved a dismissive hand at Blaine. “Go! Don't come back. I wash my hands of both of you. Marry in some pauper-church if you will...you shan't have my blessing, nor wed below my roof.”
Blaine blinked. He could understand his lordship's ire towards him. However, why would he mistreat Chrissie? His own great-niece? His brother's grandchild, raised from birth here in his household? He must be heartless!
“Very well,” Blaine said frostily.
He turned his back, then, and walked out. Whatever his fate might be, he was glad to no longer be working for the likes of Lord Brien. The kind of man who could be so cruel to his own kinswoman was not the kind of man he wished to serve.
No longer. I will seek my own way.
As he walked down the hallway, heading briskly for Chrissie's bedchamber, he suddenly recalled his friends – the brothers Broderick and Duncan of Dunkeld. They might take him in.
As he thought about it, he realized how ideal a situation it was. They respected his work with the men-at-arms and their own chief guardsman was old now. Perhaps they would offer him a similar post in their own castle? That would mean that Chrissie could live with her cousins. That would be perfect!
Feeling his heart light with joy, he rushed up the hallway and to the stairs.
“Chrissie!”
She was waiting for him on the landing. She was wearing a pink dress of soft linen. He caught her in his arms and held her close. Her breasts pressed soft against his chest. Her lips on his were eager and soft, and she smelled sweet. He held her, feeling dizzy with longing. He wanted to carry her to her bedchamber right there and lose himself in the sweetness of her, the intoxication and the scent of roses.
He drew in a shuddering breath, fighting to restrain himself and his leaping imagination, and leaned back. Looked into those pale eyes.
“He agreed to it.”
“Blaine!” Chrissie gave a happy shout, and wrapped her arms around his chest, drawing him to her. “Oh! That's wonderful!”
Blaine squeezed her firmly against him, and then sighed. “Oh, Chrissie. I am afraid it will be a poor wedding.”
“Any wedding with you would be the best wedding,” she said firmly. She stroked his cheek. He smiled sadly into those wells of cornflower blue that were her eyes.
“I am sorry, my dear. Your uncle says he will not help us. He refuses to have the wedding here for us.”
“Well, then,” Chrissie said lightly. “I do have other relations, you know. We can have it at the Connolly estate. Why not?”
Blaine stared at her. He had not thought of that! Of course!
He hugged her in a crushing embrace, enfolding her in his arms. “You're amazing,” he whispered frankly at her. He giggled. She did too.
“You big lummox,” she said fondly. “Have you forgotten how my father's family dotes on me? They gave me my first horse, and every year they send bolts of cloth for my dresses.”
He chuckled, stroking her hair. “You move in high places. I had forgotten how well-connected my future wife is.” He beamed at her appreciatively, and she blushed, hands twisting her skirt like a much younger person.
“I suppose I have my uses...”
Blaine shook his head, voice ragged with feeling. “You are not a thing with uses,” he said, his voice raw. “You are the most precious being in my world.”
Chrissie kissed him, a tender, gentle kiss full on his lips. She ruffled his short, dark hair. She was crying.
“That is so dear of you, Blaine. So very, very dear.”
“It's true,” he said simply. The fact that such a simple, true statement could move her so deeply made him both angry and aroused a tenderness he had never thought himself capable of feeling. He stroked her hair and she moved against him, making a little sigh like a sleeping babe. He held her and her body pressed against his, the sweet rise of her breasts against his chest, the soft roundness of her belly just at his groin.
She moved against him and he moved with her. His body was responding fast, his loins aching as her own body slid against him, driving him to a place of arousal he had never encountered before. The scent of roses was in his nostrils and her soft body melted in his arms. He felt himself start to shake, and his body thrust against hers as he started to shake, and shake...
“Chrissie,” he said gruffly. “We have to stop this. Now.”
She looked up at him, eyes suddenly blazing. “Why?”
He sighed. “I love you, my dearest. I want you so badly. More than I have wanted anything throughout my life. Trust me. But we cannot.”
She sighed. She hid her face in his chest, her arms tight around his body. At length, face streaked with tears, she spoke.
“I know,” she said softly. “But I...I want you...I want to forget.” She looked away from him, eyes on the flagstones, body shaking as she relived whatever memories she had.
Blaine sighed.
“I know, sweet one. I want that too. I really do. And we will be married soon. Tomorrow, if you wish it. We will make it happen.”
“Tomorrow?” she giggled. “Really?”
Blaine smiled, relief flooding through him to see how she smiled at him. “Yes. Tomorrow? If you want that?”
Chrissie giggled. Whatever she thought, this seemed to be an amusing idea, for she laughed for quite some time. At length she slowed. “My dear,” she said quietly, “I am also in haste. But do you think perhaps we could wait for Tuesday? I need to sew a dress.”
Blaine laughed too, then, especially at the seriousness of her expression just then. They embraced and, clinging to each other, they laughed and laughed. The laughter was release, and relief. At the end of it, both their cheeks were damp.
“Well, then,” Chrissie said a little shakily. “I am going to have to find Ambeal. It seems,” she added, “as if I have a dress to make. And I must write to Uncle Sean at Glencurrie. He will make sure we have a wedding fitting of his brother's daughter.”
Blaine smiled at her and stroked her hair. “I am so glad,” he said. “You should have the most beautiful wedding in the world. You are so lovely.”
Chrissie laughed. “Flattery!” she accused lightly, but her eyes were warm. “Well, then. I must plan, and you must make ready, too. You also need a proper outfit. Oh! I am so happy...”She squeezed him, kissed his lips, and then hurried up the stairs, still laughing; Blaine thought his heart might break.
He had just been given everything he had ever wished for. It was every bit as sweet as he imagined.
Now all he needed was a job. That would, he thought, be the perfect wedding present.