Claire Delacroix (21 page)

Alasdair recalled well enough Morgaine’s displeasure that he had been drinking before. He had the eerie sense there was something of import here that he was missing.

Alasdair arched a brow and watched Morgaine’s response carefully. “It sounds a matter of principle with you.”

Her lips tightened and she took a quick breath. “It is,” she said fiercely.

“Why?”

Morgaine was clearly discomfited by his soft question. Her full lips tightened and she looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

But Alasdair knew that he was hot on a trail that could lead to his salvation. ’Twould be good indeed to have some understanding of the enchantress’s thinking.

“But I do, my lady,” Alasdair insisted quietly. He leaned forward, trying to compel her to meet his gaze. “I would know what troubles you and why.”

Twin spots of color burned brightly in her cheeks. Morgaine looked from one side to the other, then impaled him with a determined glance. She took a quick breath and fairly bit out the words, apparently responding against her will.

“Because it changes people,” she said heatedly. “Drinking makes them act differently and do things they would never do otherwise. It makes them break promises and hurt people close to them.”

Morgaine choked on her next words, then shook her head and Alasdair he did not imagine the shimmer of tears in her magnificent eyes. “It ruins everything.
Everything
.”

She snatched up her glass and gulped at the water, but Alasdair was not fooled. He had seen these changes of which she spoke. In most folk, the whisky brought a lightheartedness, but there were those who turned dark when the whisky was in their belly.

’Twas clear enough the lady had experienced this.

“Aye,” he agreed carefully. “I have seen it make a docile man turn bloodthirsty.”

She pressed her lips tightly together and nodded.

“And I have seen that man hit his woman for no reason at all.”

Morgaine looked away.

And there was the meat of the matter, unless Alasdair missed his guess.

Well, he was not such a fool to alienate his Faerie hostess, particularly when she was already ill disposed to aiding him. And if the prospect of a man with whisky in his belly unsettled Morgaine, there was but one thing to be done.

Alasdair deliberately lifted the wee cup and set it on the edge of their table. Morgaine’s gaze brightened with interest, though she only flicked a glance at him.

The servant appeared in a flash. Something wrong with the whisky, sir?”

Alasdair shook his head, his gaze fixed determinedly on the sorceress. “Nay, there is naught amiss. My taste has but changed. Would you be so kind as to being me a vessel of water, as that of the lady?”

The servant sniffed and swept up the pewter cup, striding across the tavern in poor temper. No doubt he disapproved of the waste – though Alasdair was certain the whisky would not be cast on the ground.

And he only had eyes for Morgaine’s tentative smile. “You don’t have to do that,” she murmured, though there was a thread of delight in her tone that he had.

The sight of Morgaine’s pleasure with his choice emboldened Alasdair as naught else could have done. He could win her favor yet.

He would win her favor yet.

Aye, he had never been one to back down from a challenge – and Morgaine’s endorsement could be the greatest challenge that ever he faced.

But the prize was well worth the winning.

Alasdair abruptly recalled his gran’s certainty that Morgaine le Fee was one to grant favors to those mortals who shared her bed.

And Alasdair knew exactly where he was going to be, as soon as it could be managed. The very idea made his heart pound, though he was certain ’Twas only because his goal was in sight.

It seemed his first instinct had not been far wrong, after all.

“Aye, I do.” Alasdair leaned forward and captured Morgaine’s tiny hand within his own. Her fingers quivered ever so slightly, this minute sign of her awareness of him feeding his confidence in his new scheme.

Was it possible that he, a mere mortal, already held some sway over the tiny sorceress?

Alasdair stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and dared to stare directly into her eyes. “For I pledge to you this moment, my lady – as you have sworn to take me home – that I shall let no whisky touch my lips while yet I am in your domain.”

“It’s not my domain,” Morgaine protested, but ’twas clear she was pleased. There was no doubt of that, though she seemed embarrassed by his intensity as well. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you wish it to be so.”

“I never said that.”

Alasdair smiled slowly, noting how her defiance melted away. He dropped his voice to a seductive rumble. “Your eyes, my lady, did all the telling.”

And it was true. Even now, a heat lit their emerald depths, and Alasdair knew he had embarked well upon his quest. He remembered the sweet heat of her kiss and his loins tightened with enthusiasm.

Suddenly Alasdair wondered why he had been so intent upon winning the goodwill of her advisors and not that of the lady herself. As he stared into Morgaine’s eyes, he could not for the life of him think of a single reason.

Wanting only to see her smile fully again, he squeezed her hands and winked at her, then sat back to drank heartily of the water. ’Twas not half bad when ’twas cold like a mountain stream.

She liked tales. And Alasdair had a thousand of them. Should he need to sing them all to win his way between her thighs, ’twould not be too high a price to pay.

And if a day in this enchanted land made a year in the world of mortals, Alasdair had best begin his conquest now.

“I have a tale for you, my lady,” he said quietly and knew that only one would do. “’Tis a tale of the knight Tam Lin, a knight stolen away by the Faerie Queen but won back by his mortal love.”

“But we have to talk. You really need to believe me about this time thing...”

“There will be time enough for talking, but this be the time to see a fair lassie smile.” Before she could argue any more, Alasdair tapped his toe and began to sing.

Janet has kilted her green kirtle,

A little above her knee.

And she has snooded her yellow hair,

A little above her bree.

And she is to her father’s hall,

As fast as she can be.

Four and twenty ladies fair

Were playing at the ball.

And out then came the fair Janet,

One flower among them all.

Four and twenty ladies fair

Were playing at the chess.

And out then came the fair Janet,

As green as any glass.

The few other patrons of the tavern turned and lifted their glasses in silent toast to Alasdair’s tune. He nodded his acknowledgement and continued on, delighted to see a sparkle of interest in the lady’s eye.

Out then spake her father dear,

And he spake meek and mild.

“And ever alas, sweet Janet,” he says,

“I think thou is with child.”

“If that I am with child, Father,

I must myself bear the blame.

There’s never a laird about your hand

Shall get the babe’s name.

If my love were an earthly knight,

As he’s an elfin gray,

I would not give my own true love

For any lord that you claim.

The steed that my true love rides

Is lighter than the wind;

With silver is he shod before,

With burning gold behind.”

Blake and Justine came into the tavern then, their faces lighting up when they spied Alasdair and Morgaine. They made their way across the room and sat beside them, and soon Blake’s fingers were tapping lightly on the rim of the table.

Meanwhile, Alasdair sang about Janet seeking out her beloved Tam Lin to tell him of the babe she carried. Tam Lin, it turned out, was not of the Fae, but a mortal captured by them. Janet demanded the tale and the knight Tam Lin complied.

“And once it fell upon a day,

A day most cold and foul,

When we were from hunting come,

That from my horse I fell.

The Queen of Faeries she caught me

And took me to her domain to dwell.

And pleasant is the Faerie land,

But, an eerie tale to tell,

Aye, at the end of seven years,

We pay a tithe to Hell.

I am so fair and full of flesh,

I fear it will be myself.

But the night is Halloween, lady,

The morn is Hallowday.

Then win me, win me, as you will,

For well I want you to.

Just at the murk and midnight hour,

The Faerie folk will ride.

And they would their true love win,

At Miles Cross they must bide.”

Alasdair changed the pitch of his voice to sing Janet’s part.

“But how shall I know thee, Tam Lin,

Or how my true love know,

Among so many uncouth knights,

The like I never saw?”

Alasdair leaned closer to Morgaine, lowering his voice to confide Tam Lin’s wisdom.

“Oh, first let pass the black, lady,

And then let pass the brown.

But quickly run to the milk-white steed,

And pull his rider down.

For I’ll ride on the milk-white steed,

And always nearest the town.

Because I was an earthly knight,

They give me this renown.

My right hand will be gloved, my lady,

My left hand will be bare.

Cocked up shall my bonnet be,

And combed down shall be my hair.

And there be the clues I give thee,

No doubt I will be there.

They’ll turn me in your arms, my lady,

Into an asp and adder.

But hold me fast and fear me not.

I am your babe’s father.

They’ll turn me to a bear so grim,

And then a lion bold.

But hold me fast, and fear me not,

As you shall love your child.

Again they’ll turn me in your arms,

To a red-hot rod of iron.

But hold me fast and fear me not,

I’ll do to you no harm.

And last they’ll turn me in your arms,

Into the burning gleed.

Then throw me into well water,

Oh, throw me in with speed!

And then I’ll be your own true love,

I’ll turn into a naked knight.

Then cover me with your green mantle,

And cover me out of sight.”

The server brought two tall tankards of ale for Justine and Blake and another glass of water for Alasdair. He looked pleased at the song, for a few more patrons had slipped through the door to listen.

But Alasdair had eyes only for his lady’s dawning smile. His voice dropped low to tell of that All Hallows’ Night.

Gloomy, gloomy was the night,

And cold was the moon’s glow,

As fair Janet in her green mantle

To Miles Cross did she go.

About the middle of the night,

She heard the bridles ring.

This lady was as glad at that

As any earthly thing.

First she let the black pass by,

And then she let the brown.

But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed,

And pulled the rider down.

So well Janet minded what he’d said

That young Tam Lin did win.

She covered him with her green mantle,

As blythe’s a bird in spring.

Out then spake the Queen of Faeries,

Out of a bush of broom.

“She who has gotten young Tam Lin,

Has stolen a stately groom.”

Out then spake the Queen of Faeries,

And an angry woman was she.

“Shame betide her ill far’d face,

And an ill death may she die,

For she’s taken away the bonniest knight,

In all my company.”

“But had I known, Tam Lin,” she says,

“What now this night I see,

I would have taken out thy two gray eyes,

And put in two eyes of tree.”

Applause broke out around the tavern, and Alasdair was heartened by the shining of Morgaine’s eyes. “That’s wonderful,” she breathed. “Another from your gran?”

“Aye. She has a thousand of them, but Tam Lin is a favorite.”

“I want to hear them all,” Morgaine said firmly.

Well, if that was the price of freedom, ’twas one Alasdair would willingly pay.

* * *

What a wonderful story!

Morgan’s mind filled with flowing images of the Faerie host riding at a moonlit midnight, their queen in the lead and mortal Tam Lin in their ranks. She envisioned his mortal love, round with child, waiting and waiting, her features drawn with anxiety.

The planning of the page layout came in a flash, and Morgan knew she’d show the reunited lovers embracing at the lower right corner, a symbol of love conquering all. She sighed with satisfaction, her fingers itching to get to work, and felt Alasdair’s gaze heavy upon her.

He had a true gift for making a story come alive.

Alasdair smiled, as though he had guessed the praise she hadn’t even uttered. Morgan smiled back at him, welcoming the warmth that spread from her own heart. Alasdair really was the kind of man she had always wanted to meet.

Protective, strong, gentle and tough by turn. A man of honor who valiantly defended those around him. A warrior who sang folktales without embarrassment. A man unashamed to show concern for his son.

But men didn’t get sons all by themselves. Alasdair must have a wife in the fourteenth century, too.

The unexpected conclusion blindsided Morgan – as did the intensity with which she disliked it. She fought against a completely unreasonable jealousy, but still couldn’t dismiss her feelings.

Trust her to be attracted to a man who had been married for more than seven hundred years!