The Snow White Bride by Claire Delacroix

his gaze upon her, his eyes dancing with that barely contained merriment that she found so enticing. He looked pleased to be standing beside her, pleased to be exchanging vows with her.
    As if he had chosen her himself to be his bride.
    As if they had chosen each other. Eleanor added that element to her dream. He was finely wrought, this man intent upon taking her to wife, this man she had tricked. And he was honorable, so honorable that Eleanor felt remorse for having deceived him.
    Eleanor chose to believe for a moment that this was a match that would endure, that Alexander would not prove to be a brute, that this sunny Christmas morning might bode well for her future. And she indulged herself with the impossibility of this being her first match, perhaps her only match. What if she had been a virgin the night before? The li e with which she had snared Alexander was more appealing than the truth, and she wished fervently that it could be the truth.
    Her hand rose, seemingly of its own volition, to caress the crucifix that she always wore beneath her kirtle, the crucifix that should grace her garb at her nuptial vows, but found nothing.
    Of course, the gem was no longer there. Eleanor had worn it for so long that she still forgot that it was gone. She caught her breath, knowing that the presence of her heirloom would have blessed this match as it could not have blessed her last two. She told herself that the loss of the gem was a small price to pay in exchange for her life.
    “What is amiss?” Alexander whispered. In truth, he looked concerned, so concerned that she felt the need to grant him a reply.
    “I lost a gem of my mother’s and miss it still.” Eleanor shrugged, as if the matter were not of import.
    “What manner of gem?”
    “A crucifix. It was merely a sentimental piece,” she lied, not wanting him to realize that she had possessed any heirloom of such value as the ruby-studded golden crucifix that Ewen had seized.
    To her dismay, Alexander was not deterred. The priest cleared his throat pointedly, but Alexander continued their conversation all the same. “You do not seem the mann er of woman to lose things, especially items of sentimental value,” he murmured, his gaze assessing. “Should we seek it?”
    “Nonetheless, I did lose it and lost it long ago.” Eleanor looked back at the priest, willing him to con tinue. “It is gone, gone beyond reclamation.” The priest’s gaze flicked between the pair of them, and his lips tightened in displeasure. Eleanor bowed her head deeply as if contrite.
    Alexander tightened his grip upon her fingers. “You must describe it to me and I will seek another,” he said as he bowed his head in turn.
    Eleanor caught her breath. She was touched that he would make such an offer purely to see her pleased, before she recalled that he could not do as much. “Surely you should not waste whatsoever lurks in your coffers upon such a frippery?” she said quietly, and he inhaled sharply. She felt rude then for reminding Alexander of the truth of his financial situation.
    Father Malachy crossed himself and said “Amen” before he glowered at the inattentive pair before him. Alexander granted the man such a smile that his scowl immediately began to soften. The company echoed the blessing with gusto; then Alexander slid a heavy ring onto the ring finger of Eleanor’s left hand.
    She looked down at it, surprised by its weight, and was more surprised by the ring itself. A large, round emerald fairly filled her knuckle, its green depths gleaming, its circumference marked with a plethora of small white pearls. It was a substantial piece and one no man without means could have acquired.
    Had Alexander lied about his lack of coin? Or were the Lammergeier truly the thieves they were reputed to be?
    Her astonishment must have shown when she met his gaze, for Alexander grinned.
    “It was my mother’s wedding ring,” he said. “My father accepted it as his sole claim from