Chapter Three
Elysande dressed herselfin a semi-sheer chemise and soft, white, woolen hose to her knees. She donned her purple kirtle, the one her dear friend, Margaret, embroidered with delicate swirls of gold thread along the hem of its full skirts and long, fitted sleeves that covered her knuckles. She wore a crimson cotehardie, fitted at the waist and flaring outward with a purple linen lining. She plaited her thick, dark hair into a braid that hung over her shoulder and secured a thin crimson veil to her head.
Someone knocked at the door to her room in her parents’ manor house.
The door opened and without invitation, though her dear cousins needed none, her cousin, Adela, entered the room and threw herself onto Elysande’s bed.
“Happy Christmas morn, El! Oh!” she exclaimed, sitting up and taking notice of her cousin. “You look breathtaking!” Before Elysande could thank her, she closed her eyes and took in a great breath. “Do you smell the cakes and shortbread baking? ’Tis heavenly!”
Adela was ten and six and full of enthusiasm for just about anything. She was also the bonniest lass alive in Elysande’s estimation. She resembled her mother, Aunt Julianna, Uncle Nicky’s wife, with flowing red hair and large, dark eyes, and a wide smile. Though separated by three years, they were very close. Elysande’s cousins of her own age were males. She loved them all, but she and Adela always stuck together, wrong or right, through everything.
“Stand and let me take a look at ye,” Elysande said. Her tender smile widened when her cousin did as she asked. “I love how the green of yer dress brings out the red of yer hair. Ye will still every heart.”
Her cousin laughed, but Elysande believed it. There were many offers for her hand, but Uncle Nicky refused them all. He wasn’t as bad as Elysande’s father. He did allow one suitor to court her for a little while before sending him away. He told the young man that if he truly loved his daughter, he would return in two years.
“Tell me about Mr. Cameron,” Adela suggested furtively and patted the bed beside her. “Elias was discussing him with my father when I awoke. Elias told him about Mr. Cameron and Hugh. Father said he believes Mr. Cameron truly wants peace.”
Elysande agreed with her cousin. “He is peculiar, Adela,” she told her. “He didna shrink from my father when he was threatened. He did not run away, no, he went off with me to a nearby table, where we would be alone.”
Elysande put her fingers under Adela’s chin and closed her mouth. “I know,” she laughed. “I like him, Adela. What shall I do? My father—”
“I know,” her cousin consoled. “But my father says that Uncle Torin likes him, too. Mayhap they can convince Uncle Cain to change his mind. Brother Simon says that anything is possible with God, aye? And ’tis Christmas Day!”
“And he is named after the archangel Raphael!” Elysande added.
They both gasped, and then collapsed on the bed with laughter.
“Get up. We will wrinkle our dresses,” Elysande said, sobering. She turned to her cousin, sitting up and slinging her legs over the side. “What shall I do in the meantime?”
Adela’s deep, sable eyes gleamed from within. “Have a merry time.”
Elysande stood withinthe loving wings of her parents and eldest brother, Tristan, to her right and her three other brothers to her left. All their eyes were set on Father Timothy at the altar of their church reciting from the Gospel of John. The scent of melting tallow wax assailed her senses and made her smile. It was a familiar scent that she loved.
The church was heavily decorated in mountain laurel and holly and though cold seeped through the walls, candles burned everywhere—dozens being added for Christmas—and gave the church a warm and inviting atmosphere.
The rest of her kin filled the church, singing, praying, and hungry to eat of the wonderful dishes to be served in the great hall.
A few benches behind her stood Raphael and his father, along with their men. Could she feel his eyes on her, or was it just her hopeful heart? She ached to turn around and look at him. Once, she did. For just an instant, she turned and caught sight of him. He was looking at her and smiled. She returned the gesture and turned away before anyone noticed. But Uncle Torin saw her and seemed quite pleased. She remembered him last eve, looking just as happy whenheintroduced them. What was he up to, she wondered? Raphael had mentioned regretting trusting her uncle. What had Torin promised him?
Suddenly, her heart wrenched within her. Had her uncle promisedher? She turned, boldly this time, and glared at Raphael. Was he doing all this for peace, or to have her? She moved her angry stare to her uncle. How dare he connive to give her away as if she were a prized horse?
Tears stung her eyes and she turned away and bit her tongue. She wanted to ask him if she was correct. Should she tell her father? No! There was no need to start a war. She would speak to her uncle after mass. She wasn’t sure she was even thinking clearly. Uncle Torin loved her. The father of all boys, he’d always treated her like a beloved daughter. Of course he wouldn’t trade her for peace! He didn’t truly even care about peace. He invited the Camerons to the stronghold and sought peace as a gift for his wife. Aunt Braya was the one who wanted peace. Before she married Uncle Torin, she’d been a border reiver, fighting other clans for food. It was hard for Elysande to imagine her aunt brandishing a sword, for Braya was as slight as a veil, with pale blonde hair and wide, genuine smiles. But Elysande had seen her practicing and she was deadlier than some of the men.Shewanted the feud to end. Peacefully.
Would her uncle have made the alliance with a promise of marriage?
Elysande didn’t think she’d mind being married to Raphael, but it would be her decision, not her uncle’s. Was peace the reason Raphael had spent the night celebrating at her table? She had to know the truth.
When the mass ended, she excused herself from her parents and brothers, with the excuse of wanting to ask Uncle Torin to recite one of his poems later.
Her father playfully begged her not to ask. That is, she thought he was being playful. She wasn’t sure he had forgiven his brother for inviting their enemies for Christmastide.
“Now, Father, ye know ye love his odes, and him along with them,” she teased and broke away from him. The instant he could no longer see her face, her smile faded and she set her hard gaze on her uncle.
“Elysande.”
She stopped at the sound of Raphael’s voice and turned slowly to look at him.
Oh, she shouldn’t have. She couldn’t think straight with him so close. He looked especially handsome this morn dressed in a black doublet and hose with his blue and black plaid draped over his shoulder and around his waist. His black hair was loose and straight, and fell like sensual fingers to the tops of his shoulders, caressing his neck.
