stairs."
"Be
still," the other one said sharply. "Would ye ill-wish the lass on
her wedding night? Come along now, my lady," she added kindly. "
'Tisn't far."
What
would Maude do? Alyson asked herself again. Make some cutting remark, no doubt,
and put the woman in her place. But Alyson couldn't do it. She simply nodded
and followed them.
The
chamber was not so large as Maude's, nor so well appointed, but to Alyson it
seemed very fine indeed. The bed was hung with crimson draperies, and a fire
burned brightly on the hearth as the women went about the business of disrobing
her. Alyson hardly noticed their silence; she was too busy worrying about what
was to happen next. At last they pressed a goblet of spiced wine into her hand
and left her there alone.
She
sank into a deep chair before the hearth and stared into the flames. There was
a step in the hall and she stiffened, then relaxed as it passed by the door.
Not him, then. Not yet. But sooner or later he'd appear and then...
She
finished the wine and poured the goblet full again, draining it without taking
it from her lips. Pot valiant, she thought wryly. That's what she was hoping
for. Well and why not? It was better than shaking with fright. But she grew no
braver, only sleepy. At last she climbed into the bed and lay staring at the
canopy. Where was Robin tonight? She wondered if he cried for her and then it
was she who was crying, stifling her sobs in the feather pillow.
Never
in her life had she felt so dreadfully alone. Even God seemed to have gone over
to the side of her enemies. She had appealed to Lord Darnley's manor priest,
thinking that he must in good conscience help her. For surely this was sin,
this mocking of sacred vows, both Darnley's and the one Alyson had taken in the
chapel today.
"Lord
Darnley has confessed already," Father Aidan had said sternly. "His
soul is in my care, not yours. As for the rest... it is sin, true. But to send
our lady Maude there would be a far worse sin. Now, as to the groom..."
he'd considered, then said, "so long as he takes the vow in good
conscience, his soul will not be imperiled."
But
what about me? a voice cried in Alyson's heart. Do I really matter so little?
She knew what Father Aidan would say: God's plan had set Maude far above her;
it was her duty to bear anything for her lady's sake. "Bugger God,"
she whispered. "What's He ever done for me?"
She
sat up with a gasp, shocked at her own blasphemy. Why, God had given her Robin,
of course. And that alone was worth everything else. She breathed a fervent
prayer of contrition, asking that she be given the strength to bear what was to
come.
As
she hovered on the edge of sleep, it seemed someone sat beside her on the bed
and a faint scent of rosemary wafted through the chamber.
"Mam?"
she murmured drowsily.
"Hush,
now, hinny," a voice whispered, and a soft hand smoothed her hair in a
gesture both comforting and familiar. "Dinna greet, I'm here, all will be
well..."
Alyson
struggled to open her eyes, but the effort was too much. With a little sigh she
tumbled into sleep.
The
fire had burned to embers before Jemmy set his candle on the table and stood
beside the bed, watching his sleeping bride. Thick auburn curls lay across her
face, but he could see the marks of tears and the dampness of the pillow
beneath her cheek. She is Darnley's daughter, he reminded himself sharply,
treacherous Darnley, who for years had cut a swath of death through the
Kirallen clan. And now, God damn his black soul to Hell, he had killed Ian.
She
stirred and murmured something about a robin and burning bread. He leaned down
and brushed a shining strand of hair from her face, his fingers gentle on her
sleep-flushed cheek and the line of her slender neck. She sighed, a smile
curving her full lips.
She
looked soft and vulnerable and dangerously enticing, and for a moment he was
tempted to climb into bed beside her, bury his face in her bright hair, and
forget everything that had happened to
"Be
still," the other one said sharply. "Would ye ill-wish the lass on
her wedding night? Come along now, my lady," she added kindly. "
'Tisn't far."
What
would Maude do? Alyson asked herself again. Make some cutting remark, no doubt,
and put the woman in her place. But Alyson couldn't do it. She simply nodded
and followed them.
The
chamber was not so large as Maude's, nor so well appointed, but to Alyson it
seemed very fine indeed. The bed was hung with crimson draperies, and a fire
burned brightly on the hearth as the women went about the business of disrobing
her. Alyson hardly noticed their silence; she was too busy worrying about what
was to happen next. At last they pressed a goblet of spiced wine into her hand
and left her there alone.
She
sank into a deep chair before the hearth and stared into the flames. There was
a step in the hall and she stiffened, then relaxed as it passed by the door.
Not him, then. Not yet. But sooner or later he'd appear and then...
She
finished the wine and poured the goblet full again, draining it without taking
it from her lips. Pot valiant, she thought wryly. That's what she was hoping
for. Well and why not? It was better than shaking with fright. But she grew no
braver, only sleepy. At last she climbed into the bed and lay staring at the
canopy. Where was Robin tonight? She wondered if he cried for her and then it
was she who was crying, stifling her sobs in the feather pillow.
Never
in her life had she felt so dreadfully alone. Even God seemed to have gone over
to the side of her enemies. She had appealed to Lord Darnley's manor priest,
thinking that he must in good conscience help her. For surely this was sin,
this mocking of sacred vows, both Darnley's and the one Alyson had taken in the
chapel today.
"Lord
Darnley has confessed already," Father Aidan had said sternly. "His
soul is in my care, not yours. As for the rest... it is sin, true. But to send
our lady Maude there would be a far worse sin. Now, as to the groom..."
he'd considered, then said, "so long as he takes the vow in good
conscience, his soul will not be imperiled."
But
what about me? a voice cried in Alyson's heart. Do I really matter so little?
She knew what Father Aidan would say: God's plan had set Maude far above her;
it was her duty to bear anything for her lady's sake. "Bugger God,"
she whispered. "What's He ever done for me?"
She
sat up with a gasp, shocked at her own blasphemy. Why, God had given her Robin,
of course. And that alone was worth everything else. She breathed a fervent
prayer of contrition, asking that she be given the strength to bear what was to
come.
As
she hovered on the edge of sleep, it seemed someone sat beside her on the bed
and a faint scent of rosemary wafted through the chamber.
"Mam?"
she murmured drowsily.
"Hush,
now, hinny," a voice whispered, and a soft hand smoothed her hair in a
gesture both comforting and familiar. "Dinna greet, I'm here, all will be
well..."
Alyson
struggled to open her eyes, but the effort was too much. With a little sigh she
tumbled into sleep.
The
fire had burned to embers before Jemmy set his candle on the table and stood
beside the bed, watching his sleeping bride. Thick auburn curls lay across her
face, but he could see the marks of tears and the dampness of the pillow
beneath her cheek. She is Darnley's daughter, he reminded himself sharply,
treacherous Darnley, who for years had cut a swath of death through the
Kirallen clan. And now, God damn his black soul to Hell, he had killed Ian.
She
stirred and murmured something about a robin and burning bread. He leaned down
and brushed a shining strand of hair from her face, his fingers gentle on her
sleep-flushed cheek and the line of her slender neck. She sighed, a smile
curving her full lips.
She
looked soft and vulnerable and dangerously enticing, and for a moment he was
tempted to climb into bed beside her, bury his face in her bright hair, and
forget everything that had happened to
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