An odd look came over Malcolm Scott's face. Then he said, 'Aye.'
'Cook has baked an apple tart to celebrate our daughter's birthday,' Alix announced, breaking the brief tension.
'It's my favorite!' Fiona said excitedly, and she danced about the hall.
The laird reached out and took Alix's hand in his, his eyes meeting hers. 'Thank you,' he said. 'You are a better mother to Fiona than the cursed wench who birthed her.'
'I love her, and I can see she is high-strung, Colm. Most little girls her age are. I will teach her restraint, but she is just seven today. Little girls are quite often sensitive. She isn't Robena, my lord. I will lead her by example.'
'She is right, you know,' Maggie Ferguson said. 'As the mother of daughters, I could tell you tales.' she chuckled.
'You have been very good for her,' the laird admitted, looking into Alix's eyes and smiling. Then, 'How is it you understand me so well?' he wanted to know. 'I sometimes think you know me better, lambkin, than I know myself.'
Alix laughed. 'Will you be offended if I tell you that you are not a very complex man? You are honest and straightforward. I quite like it, my dear lord. The world in which I was raised was filled with men intriguing and plotting. Each word they spoke had to be considered carefully. The truth was a rare commodity. I often wonder if King Henry had been sound of mind and a strong man what his rule would have been. I would certainly not be here at Dunglais had it been.'
'Do you miss that world?' he asked her. He knew the answer, of course, but he needed to hear her say it again. Now that she was to be his wife, he found that he needed reassurance that she truly loved him. It had never been this way with Robena.
Alix stood before him and, reaching up, stroked his jaw as she gazed into his eyes. 'I would rather be with you and here at Dunglais than anywhere else. I love you, Colm Scott, my dear, good lord.' Then her voice dropped so only he might hear her. 'You have become my life. I want no man but you. I will never leave you, my darling. Do not be afraid, Colm. Our marriage is meant to be, and it will be good.' Standing on her tiptoes Alix kissed him sweetly and gently.
The laird's voice was equally low as he spoke to her. 'When Robena betrayed me, only my pride was hurt. As I saw her standing there in my half brother's arms I knew I had never had any real love for her. She had nothing of my heart. But you, my lambkin, you have captured my heart. You hold it captive and you always will.' He kissed her back, and his kiss was one of deep longing.
'I belong to you, my lord,' Alix told him softly.
'And I belong to you, my love,' the laird replied.
When she had seen the way the situation was going, Fenella had eased away from the pair, Fiona in her care. The guests moved away too. But seeing the servants bringing in the meal Fenella called out, 'My lords, my ladies. Come to table. Fiona's feast is now set, and it smells delicious. Look, child, prawns!'
The laird and Alix turned from each other. Hand in hand they came to the high board, Malcolm Scott picking up his daughter and bringing her to the place of honor, where she held court the rest of the evening until she was finally carried to bed by her father and tucked in by Alix. Then they returned to the hall to be with their guests. The laird's piper played for them, and the old bard who made his home at Dunglais entertained them with tales, some spoken, some half sung.
'You really do love him,' Maggie Ferguson said. 'I can see it in all you do. You are so very good with Fiona, Alix. And your servants already respect you. I could not have wished for a happier ending to Colm's woes than this.'
'They say she was beautiful,' Alix said. 'I am pretty, but I am certainly not beautiful. Yet he loves me. I know he does, for I see it in his eyes. Why could he not love her if she was so beautiful?'
'She was beautiful,' Maggie said. 'Breathtakingly beautiful, yet it was all on the outside. But when he chose her he did not know it. None of us did. She was a beautiful virgin from a good family, there was no scandal about her, and she brought him a respectable dower. It was the kind of arrangement made among families every day. My Robbie tells me you were brought up in the court of the old English queen. You have certainly been witness to many matches, and did any of them involve love?'
'Nay,' Alix admitted. 'They involved wealth, prestige, power, land. Now and again a matched couple would know and like each other. The queen's ladies would sigh and remark on how fortunate they were, but most matches brought strangers together. My parents knew each other when the Count of Anjou ordered their marriage. They grew to love each other, and I always wanted what they had.'
'And have you gained it with Colm?' Maggie Ferguson asked.
'I think I have gained far more,' Alix replied softly.
'You want children? Robena really did not,' Maggie told Alix.
'Oh, yes! I very much want children,' Alix replied. She did not tell her companion that she had a means of preventing conception that she had gained from her father. And she had faithfully used it once she had become the laird's mistress. But she had taken her supply of wild carrot seeds and stored them away this very day. Tomorrow she would be the laird's wife, and the sooner she could give him a son the better.
The evening ended, and they went to their chambers. Malcolm Scott did not come to Alix's bed that night, and she was glad. In a way it put an end to the relationship that they had had, but tomorrow night when she lay in his arms it would be as his wife and not as his mistress. They would begin anew. When morning came, Fenella oversaw her bath. The steam from the perfumed water filled the air of her bedchamber.
'The laird is having his bath in the kitchens,' Fenella told her. 'He'll not linger long, for the kitchen maids cannot help themselves and are peeping at him from the larder.' She chuckled wickedly. 'The cook cannot keep order, I fear.'
Alix laughed. 'Let them look their fill, if they wish. The laird is mine!' She stepped from her own tub and wrapped herself in a large piece of toweling as she sat down by the fire to dry her hair. 'I set Jeannie to look over Fiona while I dressed.' She began brushing her hair, leaning forward so that the heat touched it. Finally she began to dress herself, Fenella helping her first into her chemise and then into the royal-blue gown. The high waist on the garment flattered her breasts, pushing them up so that they appeared even rounder. She fitted a gold and silver gilt leather girdle about her torso. It had belonged to her mother. To it she attached her mother's jeweled rosary. The very long strand of pearls that she possessed was a trifle shorter, for Alix had taken some of the pearls to make a little rope of pearls for Fiona. She smiled, looking at the miniature strand and thinking how pleased the child would be, then slipped the pearls and her two gold chains over her head. They settled upon her chest and the beautiful blue brocade beneath it.
Fenella now brushed Alix's long hair out. She had taken it upon herself as the keep's housekeeper to help prepare the bride. She fitted a beautiful gold caul dotted with tiny freshwater pearls on Alix's head, carefully stuffing the long hair into the delicate netting. 'I took the liberty of having the cobbler in the village make these for you,' she said, fitting a pair of sollerets on Alix's feet.
'Oh, Fenella, thank you!' Alix exclaimed. 'I had to leave my sollerets at Wulfborn, for I felt they would be too heavy to carry when I fled there.'
'A lady shouldn't have to wear boots beneath her brocade gown,' Fenella said. Then she said, 'Well, my lady, I believe you are ready to go into the hall.'
Alix stood up, and her gown settled itself, molding her torso and her hips, the pale fur on her hem brushing the floor. Together the two women descended the stairs. At the entrance to the great hall the Laird of Dunglais awaited his bride with his daughter. His garb was simple. He wore a length of his red Scott plaid wrapped about his loins, and a white shirt. Alix thought he looked very handsome as she slipped the small strand of pearls from her pocket and put them over Fiona's head. The child's mouth opened with surprise as she gazed at the pearls now gleaming against the deep rose velvet of her gown.
'They are now yours,' Alix said softly. 'Take good care of them, Fiona.'
'Oh, thank you, Alix!'
'Mama,' Alix gently corrected her. 'From this day on I am your mother.' And she felt the laird squeeze her hand. Looking up at him, she smiled.
Then together the trio entered the hall, walking to the high board where Father Donald was waiting for them with the marriage contract to be signed.
