Fire Song. Catherine Archer

only in small measure, yet she tried to appear assured. “That eases my mind. His adoration for you is no secret to anyone else with eyes in their head and he gets along with no one other than Sir Giles.” At least Celeste was not so foolish as to return the troubled young man’s feelings. Meredyth rambled on in her agitation. “They are of a pair, those two, in ways I cannot explain. Both make me uncomfortable.”

      Her words were met with a heavy silence.

      Meredyth looked up, realizing even in her troubled state that her sister seemed to have grown very still at the mention of Sir Giles—too still. Meredyth whispered. “Do not tell me it is…”

      Celeste raised pale blue eyes to her sister’s face. “Yes. I am in love with Sir Giles.” For a moment her voice seemed filled with relief at having said the words aloud, before it was again overlaid with sadness. “I thought…hoped he might say something to Father…make some move to halt the marriage to St. Sebastian before it was too late. That he might have changed his mind about…”

      Meredyth frowned at this. “Changed his mind?”

      Celeste started and for a brief moment, Meredyth thought she saw fear in those blue eyes, but the impression was quickly forgotten as Celeste shook her head fiercely. “I am driven so near madness I know not what I say. Even as you came in just now I prayed it would be word that he…but…What am I to do?” She put her head down and began to cry, great racking sobs that shook her slender frame.

      Meredyth ran a nervous hand over her samite-covered midriff, the very feel of her own new cote reminding her that Celeste’s groom awaited her. “Sweet Jesu, Celeste, they are waiting in the chapel. For the second time Father has sent someone to find out what is taking so long. Your reluctance for this marriage has been obvious, but I had not expected this.”

      The sobbing only became louder. In the weeks since her father and sister had returned from court Celeste had been extremely reticent But she was always quiet, and she had certainly said nothing to indicate that she was not willing to go through with the marriage. She had simply watched, ever beautiful and remote as her new gowns were fitted and chests of linens and other household goods were prepared. It was true that she had left the choosing of these goods to her younger sister, but Meredyth was accustomed to looking after the majority of domestic tasks at Penacre. Although she was the elder by one year, Celeste had never shown any interest in running the keep.

      And she was not required to do so. Her elegant and delicate loveliness, the silver-bell perfection of her voice seemed to please their father more than all Meredyth could do to keep him comfortable, fed and warm. Meredyth wished she, too, would see that light of adoration in their father’s eyes.

      Not that Meredyth resented her sister. She loved Celeste. It would be difficult not to. She exuded a gentle sweetness that drew people to her and seemed completely unspoiled by her extraordinary beauty. She was fragile and in need of more care than others, including Meredyth herself.

      Suddenly she wondered if Sir Giles, whom Meredyth had not fully trusted since his coming to Penacre some three years past, had taken advantage of her sister’s delicate disposition. Quickly Meredyth told herself that he would surely not go so far, but her unease did not dissipate. There was a burning fire in the tall spare knight’s blue eyes that made her decidedly uncomfortable. Softly, she said, “Celeste, Sir Giles, he has not…forced you?”

      Celeste looked up in shock, her blue eyes mirroring her sorrow and another emotion Meredyth did not wish to read as guilt. “He has not.”

      Meredyth could hear the distress in her sister’s voice, thus was little relieved by this assurance. Reluctantly she forced herself to go on, though it pained her to think of the delicate Celeste with that hard-natured man. “Does he return your affection?”

      The blue eyes were stricken. “Clearly he does not. I had thought that my love was great enough for two, yet…”

      Meredyth closed her own lids, unable to bear the raw desolation in that gaze. If this were the way love made one behave, then better that she never have any part of it, she told herself. Not that that seemed likely ever to come about. Her position as chatelaine in her father’s household seemed assured for all time to come.

      She pushed aside her own petty concerns to concentrate on her sister. “How could you love a man who does not love you?”

      Celeste raised slender hands to her breast. “I only know that I do. Can’t you see that if I marry this man, this Roland St. Sebastian, there is no chance that we will ever be together. And I know that we could be, Meredyth. Giles could love me, if given enough time. He could come to see that there is no other way than for us to be together, that any other scheme is unthinkable.”

      Meredyth stood, shaking her head in helpless confusion. Again Celeste’s choice of words seemed odd. Yet Meredyth would not be distracted from the problem at hand. “But you are promised to St. Sebastian.”

      Celeste leaped up and leaned against the open sill, her expression wild with grief and determination. “I will throw myself from these heights, Meredyth. I will.”

      Her heart thudding with fear, Meredyth whispered, “You cannot do that, Celeste.”

      The elder girl’s raised chin showed a stubborn determination that surprised Meredyth. “I cannot marry him.”

      “We…will simply have to think of something,” Meredyth said earnestly.

      She grew somewhat relieved when Celeste leaned back from the open window, obviously less desperate now that she saw her sister was starting to take her seriously. Yet Meredyth could not stop herself from shaking her head, as she thought aloud. “But what? To not obey the king’s order—what would happen?”

      “I do not care, Meredyth. I only know that I love Giles. You do not understand because you have never felt that way about someone. I watch him throughout the days. I burn for him in the darkness of night.”

      Meredyth blushed. This talk was far beyond her experience, yet she could not ignore her sister’s distress. “You are correct in saying I have never felt that way but I do have some sympathy for your sorrow. If there was any way I could help you, Celeste, I would. Alas, what can I do?”

      Celeste looked at her, some of her anguish seeming to have evaporated as she spoke with unmistakable optimism. “St. Sebastian does not care for me. He weds me only on the king’s decree, to settle the differences between our families.” She paused for a moment, biting her full lower lip thoughtfully as she studied her sister.

      Meredyth felt a twinge of unrest as Celeste went on, her voice pleading. “Haps there is something you can do, Meredyth. You said yourself that you care for no one. I do not see why I have to be the one to wed this man. What is required is an alliance between our houses. Who the bride is matters not at all. I am certain King John only chose me because I am the eldest daughter. It is the usual custom for the eldest to marry first, but it is not law.”

      Now both hands came up to cover her midriff as Meredyth gasped in shocked amazement “You want me to marry him in your stead? But I cannot do that. This man will not take me in your place. What reason would Father give for asking him to do so? That you love another is unlikely to bear any weight with him. He is Father’s enemy—thus our enemy. He and his men have wreaked havoc on our lands.”

      Celeste hesitated for no more than a moment before her expression brightened. “Which is why we will not inform the Baron of Kirkland until it is too late. And we could not tell Father because we would not wish for him to be held responsible.”

      Meredyth shook her head in confusion. “Not tell? What can you mean?” She made a sweeping gesture to indicate her own diminutive form. “You cannot imagine that I could be mistaken for you, Celeste. Even if it were not for the difference in our height, look at your own hair and mine.” Meredyth reached back and pulled the weight of her own fiery braid forward over her shoulder. “There can be no hope of succeeding in this.”

      Celeste moved toward her, her eyes pleading again. “But we can do it. We must do it, Meredyth. I…I am no virgin, and St. Sebastian