They returned with ale and then with herring, boiled eggs and melted cheese, roasted chicken and brown bread.
Everything was cooked to perfection and Lily thought that watching Elias eat and laugh with her friends was one of the best parts of the day, besides marrying him again, of course.
“Oh, Elias,” she breathed, sitting close to him. “This is all so thoughtful. I do not know how to thank you.”
“Thank me later,” he said on a deep-throated purr, raising his cup and the corner of his mouth to her.
She blushed and looked around at the faces smiling back at her. They knew! They had to know! Anyone could see the hunger in his smoldering gaze. Or did she alone see it?
He loved her. He’d gone through the worst days of her life with her and he made her smile. He went out of his way to make her smile. “Have I told you how much I love you, sir?”
He turned to her again and nodded, beaming at her. “I believe ye have, my lady, but ye will never hear me grumble aboot it.”
“I better not,” she warned playfully and sipped her ale.
After they ate, Elias left the table again and disappeared with Alan and the promise of a surprise for the children. He’d arranged to somehow get Norman to play his lute and Father Benedict, of all people, to play a psaltery. The mood was peaceful and pleasant. Lily laughed with Eleanor at the way Annabelle and Terrick constantly bickered. Some things hadn’t changed.
Some things had, like Estrid admitting that she was glad Elias had come here—even if he and Brother Simon hadn’t stayed at her inn.
Lily kept in mind that her friend Helen had lost her child, but she was glad to see her smiling and enjoying the day. This was what they all needed to heal. Rest and companionship.
She was no longer willing to permanently leave any of them—not even to go to Invergarry.
The sound of banging outside drew them all to their feet. They hurried outside and found Elias and Alan. The men had set up a small wooden stage with pinecones and flowers attached to the top. They both disappeared behind the three-foot wall, both men having to crouch low so their heads were not seen over the makeshift stage.
Everyone waited a few moments. Not a sound was heard. Then, from behind the wall, a doll appeared and then another. They were crafted of fabric and acorns and pieces of wood and they moved to and fro over the stage thanks to Elias’ and Alan’s hands under the fabric of the dolls.
The children all moved closer and laughed at the faces Alan had carved. Two had huge noses and pointy chins and strips of cloth for hair, the other two were left bald and had no noses, but protruding chins.
Annabelle squealed with excitement when Elias poked his head out the side and asked the children to all sit. They did, and Elias and Alan proceeded to act out stories they made up as they went.
The children…and the adults laughed at the dolls’ antics and sat mesmerized, forgetting everything else but the dolls Annabelle affectionately called Big Nose, Baldy, No Nose, and Pinky (thanks to its pink “clothes”).
When the performance was over, the children took turns behind the wall, handling the dolls and making up their own stories.
Lily went to her husband and let him pull her under his arm. “Thank you for this. For everything.”
“The children seem to like it,” he said then kissed the top of her head.
“I think ‘tis masterful! Where did you first see such a thing?”
He shrugged and the movement pulled her even deeper into him. “France, mayhap Italy. I dinna remember. ‘Tis as if nothin’ before this mattered, and yet I know that it did. If I hadna fought, I would likely not have ever come here fer a remedy fer what ailed my heart. Everythin’ brought me right here to ye.” He smiled and raised his brow as if he were surprised and stunned by it all.
He awakened butterflies in her belly and she lifted her hand to her mouth and giggled.
“’Tis the truth,” she agreed, sobering. “Bertram brought me here. ’Tis one thing he did good for me.”
“Aye, Bertram. Ye said he was dead, aye?”
She nodded under his arm as they walked away.
“How d’ye know he is dead?” he asked.
“Because I killed him.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bertram Chisholm awoke in the bedchamber of a lavish manor house in Bromley. He looked around and then tried to sit up. He cried out from the pain in his hip and thigh and fell back on the bed. That bitch! The first time she missed, he was sure she was aiming for his balls. The second time she sent her blade flying into the back of his hip! Did she mean to hit him between his bones? It was the same kind of blow that Lion Heart had used on his arm. Bertram was still recovering from it and was sure he would never be able to use his sword again. Now this! His leg! He was going to find her and, this time, he would show her no mercy. He would kill her the way he should have years ago. Why hadn’t he done it already? He’d wanted to make her life hell. He’d even gone back to Sevenoaks when he was sick hoping to spread the disease to her and her friends, and if Louis’ bastard son were infected, so be it. Bertram wouldn’t have to put his knife to the boy. He’d rather not have such a grievous sin on his soul as killing a child. But Lily hadn’t become infected. She lost her husband and that made way for her stallion lover. She always came up out the dregs smelling like the morning mist.