Free The Rose Red Bride JK2 by Claire Delacroix Page B

voice and makes his command and expects all to be precisely as he decreed.”
    “Alexander is laird now, Vera,” Elizabeth observed, and won a sour look from the maid for her comment.
    “Be that as it may, he is not king!”
    Isabella groaned and rolled over, burying her face in her pillow. “I will go to midmorning mass instead,” she mumbled, for she was not one at her best early in the morn.
    A gleam lit in Vera’s eye, one that did not bode well for Isabella. “His lairdship insisted,” the doughty maid declared with boisterous cheer. She trudged across the chamber and pulled the linens away from Isabella with a victorious sweep of one hand.
    Isabella screamed and snatched for the linens. “It is cold!”
    Vera smiled as she danced backward. “And leaving you cold is the sole way to rouse you, my lady.”
    “Give me those linens and give them to me now!”
    “The laird decreed that none should linger abed this morn, not even you.”
    Isabella shivered elaborately. “Vera, you are cruel beyond expectation.” She sat up and surveyed the room in what was clearly a poor temper, wrapping her arms around herself as she shivered. “And Alexander is wicked to his very marrow.”
    Vera chuckled. “While you are lazy in the morn, my lady. Rise, rise and hasten yourself to mass like the good demoiselle you are. We each must have some flaw and this surely is yours.” She gave Isabella a mischievous glance. “If you rose and attended mass, you could tell our laird what you think of his edicts.”
    Isabella snorted. “If I were Lady of Kinfairlie, I should pass an edict banning church services before midday.” She made another unsuccessful snatch for her bed linens.
    Vera marched away with the linens, triumphant. “But you are not Lady of Kinfairlie, and you never will be. You cannot wed your own brother.” She shook a finger at Isabella, clearly enjoying their daily game. “And the laird himself has demanded your presence. You had best rouse yourself, for you do take longest with your hair.”
    “Because it is too red!” Isabella wailed and fell back against her pillows in apparent despair. She glared at the ceiling. “It is uncivilized to command another to attend mass so early. Alexander is a barbarian to make such a demand.”
    “I hardly think it barbaric to be so concerned with the fate of your soul,” Annelise said sweetly. She had risen and washed while Isabella had complained.
    Isabella grimaced then spoke darkly. “He has no concern for our souls.”
    “I think he is impossible since becoming laird,” Elizabeth added. “To think that once I liked my eldest brother!”
    Isabella nodded. “Mark my words, there is some jest behind this command. Alexander makes no haste from his bed in the morning either.”
    The sisters paused to exchange glances, for Isabella spoke the truth. “Do you think he rouses us only to play a trick upon us?” Annelise asked, her skepticism clear.
    “What else?” Isabella said. She pushed herself to her feet with a groan. “We shall have to play a jest upon him in exchange, and it will have to be a good one.”
    “It seems unlikely that any jest of Alexander’s would be played in church,” Annelise said, quite sensibly. She had already donned her stockings and now tied the lace of her chemise.
    The sisters stilled as one at her comment.
    “Church!” Elizabeth whispered and her gaze fell upon Vivienne’s empty pallet. “Perhaps that is where Vivienne is gone so early in the morn. Do you think Alexander means to compel her to wed?”
    Vera strode across the chamber and pulled back Vivienne’s linens with a flick of her wrist. The sisters and maid stared at the pallet in dismay, for they all had clearly thought Vivienne still asleep. “What do you know of this?” Vera demanded of Elizabeth.
    “Nothing, save that she is gone.”
    Annelise licked her lips. “Marital vows are exchanged in church,” she said in a much smaller voice.
    “If Vivienne guessed his