Brides of Ireland Page 9

  The musicians were playing a ductia, a complex instrumental piece that, in this case, had words to it. Eiselle had heard it before when she had been at Framlingham and she’d even heard Lady Bigod sing it. As she listened to the talented musician play a long, wooden flute, she found herself mouthing the words as she’d heard them.

  Bric, who surprisingly hadn’t left her side since their marriage ceremony, caught sight of the movement and thought she was speaking to him. Unable to hear her over the noise of the hall, he leaned closer so he could hear her words.

  “I did not hear you, my lady,” he said. “You were saying something?”

  Eiselle’s cheeks flushed, embarrassed that he’d caught her singing. “Nay, I did not speak,” she said. Weakly, she gestured to the musician. “I was simply reciting the words to this song.”

  “You know it?”

  “I do.”

  “What is it called?”

  “A Lover’s Lament,” she said. “It is about a woman who longs for a man who has gone off to war.”

  He lifted an eyebrow in interest. “Is that so?” he said. “I have heard the tune, but I did not know there were words to it. Will you sing it for me?”

  The mottle in her cheeks deepened. “Here? In front of everyone?”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “You can sing it quietly so only I may hear you.”

  Eiselle didn’t want to deny him, but she was genuinely reluctant to sing to him. Although she loved to sing, it had only been in front of women, or when she was alone in her chamber, so she wasn’t entirely sure she was good enough for a public performance. She didn’t want to embarrass herself and she could feel the return of the dreaded nervous stomach at the mere thought.

  However, Bric was her husband now and she wanted to be the good, obedient wife. If he wanted to hear the song, then she would sing it. When the tune started up again on the chorus, she began to sing.

  I have loved, all my life, only thee;

  The stars know thy name, the sky weeps at your beauty.

  I pray thou will return to my arms,

  but if not,

  I pray to see thy face every night in my dreams.

  Eiselle’s pure soprano was crisp and beautiful, and Bric listened to her as if mesmerized. When she finished, she smiled timidly as she hoped for a good response, but all he could do was stare. He was shocked at the beauty that had poured forth from her lips and after a moment, he simply shook his head.

  “Astounding,” he said sincerely. “You have the voice of an angel, my lady.”

  Eiselle was deeply flattered, thankful that she hadn’t sounded like a squealing piglet. “My thanks,” she said. “There are more verses, but I do not remember them all.”

  “A pity,” he said. “I should have you sing to me every night. Do you know more songs?”

  She nodded. “A few. But not enough to sing to you every night.”

  There was a glimmer in his silver eyes. “Then you shall sing to me all of the songs you know, and I shall select my favorites for you to sing over and over.”

  “You might grow bored if I do that.”

  “Nothing about you could bore me.”

  It sounded very much like a compliment and she smiled shyly, turning her attention to her wine and taking a sip. His praise of her singing made her feel quite giddy. In fact, the man in general made her feel quite giddy.

  Ever since she presented herself in the hall for their marriage, the look in his eyes had made her breathing come quicker and her heart beat just a little faster. He looked at her as if… as if her presence actually meant something to him. Nothing else could have explained that glimmer in his eye, but Eiselle knew this marriage wasn’t something he’d been waiting for. He’d already admitted that he hadn’t been keen on it.

  But she would have never guessed that by the expression on his face.

  Even now, he never left her side, sitting next to her even as his knights sat on his right, drinking and talking and laughing. She could hear them. Zara and Angela and Lady de Winter sat across the table from her, and she’d shared a few small, rather bland conversations with them. It was too loud in the hall to do much else other than shout over the tabletop. There was a lot of smiling going on, however, the ladies smiling at her and Eiselle smiling back. It began to get redundant and towards the evening, she stopped looking at them altogether because she was tired of smiling. More food was brought around, which gave her something else to focus on.

  As night settled and after several hours of playing, the musicians finally stopped, and the hall seemed quieter, more subdued, as men ate yet another meal at the wedding feast of Bric MacRohan. Most of them were quite drunk by now, and they’d started up pockets of gambling throughout the hall, which was now smoky from the fire that had been burning bright and steady since noon. A blue haze hung in the air that was becoming thicker by the hour.

  As Eiselle and Bric delved into a second round of food, which Eiselle mostly picked at because her stomach was still nervous, an old woman wrapped in servant’s clothing suddenly appeared with a curly-haired toddler. Angela gasped when she saw the child.

  “Come to me, my sweetest darling,” she said, taking her son from his nurse. She kissed the child before looking to Eiselle and Bric across the table. “I hope you do not mind that Edward has come to your feast. I promised him that he could kiss the bride, and you know that it is very good luck if a baby kisses the bride. It will ensure your marriage is fruitful.”

  Across the table, Mylo rolled his eyes at his wife, who cuddled the boy that looked exactly like him. He’d never heard of such a blessing, and Angela couldn’t stand spending more than an hour or two away from their son, so he assumed it was his wife’s way of permitting the boy to attend the wedding feast. In fact, it seemed that everyone was rolling their eyes at Angela one way or another.

  Everyone except Eiselle. She forced a smile at the woman who was trying to bring her baby into an adult gathering, where men were drinking and gambling and cursing. She didn’t think it was a good place for the child.

  “That is very kind of you, my lady,” she said. “I can see that your son is a fine lad.”

  Angela stood up from the table with the boy in her arms, making her away around the long table and heading towards Eiselle. But the child wasn’t too happy with being held; he wanted to get down and run and play with the dogs who were gathered around the tables, waiting for scraps. By the time Angela came alongside Eiselle, little Edward was screaming loudly enough to pierce eardrums.

  “Eddie, behave,” Angela scolded weakly as the boy kicked and screamed. “Don’t you want to kiss the pretty lady? Give her a kiss, Eddie!”

  Edward had no desire to kiss Eiselle. He glared at her, barring his teeth, and tried to kick her. Angela finally set her squirming son down on the bench next to Eiselle.

  “Eddie, don’t be naughty,” she said. “This is Lady MacRohan. She just married Sir Bric. You like Sir Bric, don’t you? Be kind to Lady MacRohan and give her a kiss for luck.”

  Edward was whining and squirming, trying to pull away from his mother, but Angela was thrusting the child at Eiselle, who really didn’t want to be kissed by such a child. She thought his behavior appalling. When Angela tried to encourage him, he reached up and hit his mother in the face. She calmly told him not to hit her and kept trying to thrust him on Eiselle.

  “Angela,” Mylo said from the other side of Bric. “Stop trying to force the lad.”

  He sounded irritated, but Angela was oblivious. “Eddie wants to kiss her,” she insisted. “Don’t you, Eddie?”

  The lad yelled, trying to pull away from his mother, who held him firmly. Mylo sighed with great irritation, hunting down his cup of wine and draining it as his wife wrestled with their son and everyone at the table looked at Angela as if she were a pathetic fool.

  Eiselle, however, was trying to be patient about it. She suspected that Angela only meant well, and she knew for a fact that the woman was enamored with her son, as she’
d learned on the day of her arrival when that was all Angela would speak of. So, she tried hard to be patient even though little Edward was clearly a beastly child. Angela pushed her son at Eiselle one last time.

  “Eddie, please kiss the pretty lady,” she said. “It is right and good that you should do so. You honor her.”

  She’d pushed Edward right up against Eiselle’s left arm. Eiselle was smiling politely at the boy, but when he made eye contact with her, he scowled and reached out baby fingers to pinch her right on the top of her hand. It was a hard pinch. Without hesitation, Eiselle pinched him back on his fat baby arm.

  Eddie howled.

  The table exploded in laughter as Angela snatched her wailing son to her, instantly in tears that her ill-mannered, abusive son had been given a taste of his own medicine. As Edward screamed in her ear, she looked at Eiselle as if she were the most contemptable creature on earth.

  “How dare you hurt my baby!” she cried. “My poor, defenseless child!”

  Eiselle knew she probably shouldn’t have pinched the boy, but she’d never been one to tolerate an ill-mannered child. The servants at Hadleigh House, those who had children, appreciated Eiselle’s manner with children in general. She was fair, mostly patient, and kind, but she didn’t like ill-mannered or spoiled children, and Edward definitely fell into that category. She was so used to having a free hand with the serving children at Hadleigh House that it didn’t occur to her that she shouldn’t have punished the terrible child.

  But rather than defend herself, her naturally honest nature took hold. She’d never been one to hold back, not when it mattered. And at this moment, she felt as if it mattered. These people were to be her family, weren’t they?

  She hoped her honesty was appreciated.

  “It was hardly a pinch,” she said. “If you look at his hand, I doubt you will even see a mark. As for your son being poor and defenseless, you are mistaken, my lady. That child hit you and tried to kick me. So clearly, he is not defenseless at all. He is badly in need of discipline. You believe that only by loving him, you will raise a great son, but I say that if you do not start showing him some discipline now, he will go to foster one day and will be in for a rude awakening when his masters beat him for his bad behavior. You are not doing the lad any favors by coddling him and allowing him to terrorize you.”

  Angela gasped at the words. But at the other side of the table, Keeva suddenly banged on the tabletop. “Here, here!” she said. “Angela, I have told you that before. You are raising a hellion of a child and unless you do something about it, he will be a beastly boy that no one likes. I do not blame Lady MacRohan for what she did at all. Had it been me, I might have slapped his behind, also.”

  Angela clutched her son to her as if protecting him against women who wanted to thrash him. Her poor, sweet baby who was as gentle as a lamb! Without another word, she fled the hall in tears, followed by the nurse who was openly weeping. Mylo, who was still on the other side of Bric, watched his wife go. He sighed heavily.

  “I should go to her,” he said. It was obviously something he was very reluctant to do. When Eiselle turned to look at him, he smiled weakly. “I do apologize that he pinched you. Eddie is a very bright lad, but you are correct – he terrorizes everyone, and Angela will not lift a hand to him. I fear that someday, he will be in for terrible things from men who will not tolerate that behavior.”

  Eiselle didn’t feel any remorse for what she did, but she wasn’t defensive about it, either. “I am sorry to have upset Angela,” she said, and it was the truth.

  But Mylo waved her off. “The shame is mine, Lady MacRohan,” he said as he moved away from the table. Then, he glanced at Bric. “You are a fortunate man, Bric. You have a lady with a good head on her shoulders. I envy you.”

  As he moved away from the table, Eiselle turned to Bric. In fact, he was the only opinion she cared about. When their eyes met, she smiled timidly.

  “You told me that as long as I am always honest with you, I shall exceed your expectations,” she said. “I hope that is still true. I am honest and I am forthright, and I will not allow a child to maliciously pinch me.”

  Bric had been fighting off a grin since the incident occurred. But now, he let that smile break through.

  “He deserved it,” he said. “Better coming from you than from me. If I pinched him, I’d probably twist his skin off.”

  Eiselle laughed softly because he’d said it so humorously. “I swear that I do not make it a habit of hurting children, but that child is a terror.”

  “More than you know.”

  Across the table, Daveigh lifted his cup to the newlyweds. “Then a toast,” he said. “May your children be far better behaved than Edward de Chevington. And if they are not, may they be able to run faster than their parents when it comes time to discipline them.”

  He laughed at his toast as he drank deeply, fairly drunk as his wife shook her head at him. “He does not mean it,” she said. “He has wanted to swat Eddie himself, especially when the child runs into his solar and grabs for his quills. He has set the dogs on the boy more than once, although he will not admit it.”

  Daveigh made a face at her, clearly in dispute, as Keeva grinned at the man. There was a good deal of affection in that expression, and between the two of them. Here, in a relaxed situation, that was easy to see. But soon enough, Keeva returned her focus to Bric.

  “You have spent long enough at this feast,” she said. “Take your wife and retire for the night. We will see you on the morrow.”

  Bric didn’t need to be told twice. He’d been waiting for quite some time to retire with Eiselle, but she hadn’t seemed too eager to leave, so he didn’t press her. But he would take Keeva’s direction and it would give him the excuse he needed to take his new wife to his chamber where it would just be the two of them. No more kicking Edward, no more drunken Daveigh, and no more soldiers gambling and cursing.

  Just him and Eiselle.

  He was ready.

  “Come, Lady MacRohan,” he said as he stood up, politely taking her by the elbow to help her stand. “We have been given permission to leave this frothy gathering, so let us depart.”

  Eiselle allowed him to help her to her feet, leaning on his arm so she could gather the skirt of her dress so it wouldn’t drag in the dirt and the old rushes of the hall.

  “Do you have everything well in-hand, Bric?” Pearce asked. He was the only one left sitting near Bric and Eiselle’s empty chairs as his wife sat next to Keeva across the table. “We could accompany you to your chamber, of course. I have been married for over a year. You may need my advice on things.”

  Bric snorted rudely. “The day I need your advice, de Dere, is the day I lose my mind completely,” he said. “For what I am about to do, I do not need an audience.”

  Eiselle heard his words and her cheeks flushed a violent shade of red. She knew what he meant; she knew that everyone looking at her now knew that Bric was about to take her maidenhood and indoctrinate her into the new world of a married life. Fundamentally, she’d known that all along, but now that the moment was upon them, she found she was rather nervous about it.

  Now, she was truly to become Lady MacRohan.

  As Bric took her through the hall in order to reach his chamber next to the entry, Eiselle could hear Bric’s men shouting words of encouragement to him. Bawdy encouragement, in fact. Eiselle kept her head down, holding on to her husband’s elbow, praying that the men in the room didn’t see how embarrassed she was about all of the attention on them. Truthfully, she hadn’t expected it. She had hoped that everything would have been nice and quiet and private, but that wasn’t to be.

  It was becoming a public spectacle for all to see.

  By the time they reached Bric’s chamber door, the entire hall was up, shouting encouragement to Bric, who acknowledged them with a simple lift of his hand. Eiselle was fighting down her nerves, but what she didn’t realize was that a gang of drunken revelers had crept up behind them. By t
he time Bric opened the chamber door, the men flooded in, filling the chamber with their loud shouts and lewd laughter.

  Somehow in the process, Eiselle was separated from Bric, finding herself over near the bed as two of the men tried to lift her up and put her on the mattress. Frightened, she lashed out at them, slapping one rather violently across the face.

  “Do not touch me!” she screamed. “Put me down!”

  The men weren’t trying to hurt her, but they were so drunk and happy that they didn’t pay much attention to the fact that she was genuinely terrified. Then, as it was a custom for men and women to tear a piece of the bride’s dress for good luck, they began pulling at her sleeve and at her skirt, trying to tear free a piece of fabric or fur. Eiselle slapped their hands away as fast as she could.

  Bric, over near the doorway, saw that Eiselle was struggling with a few of his men as they pawed at her lovely gown. He knew his men didn’t mean any harm, but he didn’t want them here and he certainly didn’t want them upsetting Eiselle. Tossing men aside, he charged through the crowd to Eiselle, putting himself between her and the men who were tearing at her dress.

  “Out,” he growled, pointing to the door. “Everyone out.”

  Orders from Bric MacRohan weren’t meant to be disobeyed, and the men began to funnel out, quickly in some cases. Bric left Eiselle in the corner of the chamber and followed the group out, shoving at them until they were clear of the room. Slamming the door behind him, he threw the bolt.

  But it didn’t stop the men from pounding on the door, demanding bloodied bedsheets and proof of the bride’s virginity. The shouts were loud and the banging on the door even louder. Apologetically, Bric turned to Eiselle, still standing back in the corner, only to see that she was wiping at her face.

  She was weeping.

  His heart sank.