by Mary Wine
Connor made it across the floor and to the door before he snorted with his frustration. His men turned the moment he opened the door. Their expressions reflected their surprise to see him leaving, and he closed the door before he spoke.
“She’s an obedient lass to her father, so expect her to try escaping. Mind yer hands with her, for she’s shy of touches, but keep her within the inner walls and be sure that whoever takes the next watch knows that she’s to be treated gently.”
His men nodded their approval. Connor drew in a stiff breath and forced himself to move a few more steps away from the doors. Traditions kept Scotland from dissolving into a barbaric place where might made right. He could not think ill of her father for promising one of his daughters to the church. The church had its place and needed its share of devoted souls to keep it functioning.
Just as he had needed to claim his Chattan bride.
He walked up the stairs to the floor above where Brina was sleeping. The chamber was not so lavishly afforded, but it was clean and served his needs. Maura had left a single candle burning on the long table where he would lay his bonnet and kilt. He removed the bonnet and grinned when he noticed that one of the feathers was crushed from Brina’s yanking it off his head. With the door closed, he could chuckle without worry that the sound would disturb anyone or humiliate his newest guest.
His bride…
Connor enjoyed the sound of that word while he dropped his kilt and shrugged out of his shirt. His boots required that he sit down and unlace them, but he enjoyed being free from his clothing. Getting fully dressed after he bathed had been a chore he had nae been in the mood to suffer. But the idea of seeing Brina made him put every last article of clothing back on. He doubted she was ready to receive her groom in nothing save his skin.
Making her ready for that moment was something that weighed on his mind. Deirdre would have arrived ready to welcome him into her embrace. Connor settled into his own bed and considered the fact that Brina had been quite surprised to discover that a kiss might be so enjoyable. He was sure that the priests sleeping in his village church were going to be very displeased to hear that he had taken Brina, but even knowing that didn’t banish the grin from his lips.
But the erection refusing to allow him to slip into slumber did make him frown. His cock was rigid and needy in spite of the chill of early winter. The snow was going to be his best ally, for it would keep the Chattans from launching an attempt to retrieve Brina.
Well, at least the early snow would make it far more difficult for Robert Chattan to march his clan onto Lindsey land. He was still a Highlander, so that meant he wouldn’t let a few feet of snow stop him if he was really intent on doing something to retaliate.
There would be nothing for the Chattans to claim back if Connor went back down to where Brina lay and deflowered her.
Connor frowned in the dark, not caring for that idea, but he couldn’t deny that there were plenty of men who would do exactly that.
It was what would happen to his sister Vanora, the moment she was deemed old enough for marriage.
His thoughts were darker than the night, but they burned through any further hesitations he had concerning his marriage. Brina would be his bride, but he would not treat her unkindly. The early snow was a blessing that would give him time to court her gently.
But she would be his.
***
Brina heard the church bell ringing and sat up.
It was barely dawn, or at least it seemed that way until she rubbed her eyes and realized that there were bed curtains drawn around the bed she lay in. The fabric was thick and kept the light dim where she had been sleeping.
Her mind was clouded with sleep, and she reached out to touch the curtains, unable to recall why she was sleeping in such a fine bed.
“Mistress?”
Brina froze, and her mind cleared instantly with that single word.
“Are ye ready to rise?”
It was Maura, and she tugged on the curtain, obviously having seen movement behind it. Once the fabric was drawn, Brina could see that it was in fact dawn. The church bell tolled again, stunning her with how simple it might be to end Connor’s madness.
She slid out of bed and was frantically thinking of how to meet with the priest so that she might plead her case. Maura wasn’t alone this morn but had two maids along to help dress Brina. They tugged her underrobe up and over her body before she realized their intention.
A startled gasp left her lips as she wrapped her arms around herself to cover her breasts and mons. The women cast quick, curious glances at one another.
“I told ye that the mistress is new to being served.”
Both maids instantly lowered themselves and returned to the chore of dressing her. A fresh undergown was brought forward, but Brina did not extend her arms for it to be placed over her body. Instead she stared at the soft blue color of it.
“Blue will suit you well, mistress.” Maura spoke quickly while the woman waiting with the gown offered it once again.
“I believe something plain will serve.” Brina forced herself to say the words because she doubted that she would have the willpower to maintain her determination to return to the abbey if she allowed herself to wear pretty clothing. The bed would be hard enough to forget when she was once again sleeping on a narrow cot without any curtains to keep her nose from becoming cold. But Connor had burned her undyed gown, and only now did it cross her mind that she was left to wear only what he provided her.
“The laird didna have anything plain made. This gown is the simplest that was commissioned for his bride.” Maura took the gown and gathered it up through the neckline so that she might easily drop it over Brina’s head.
“I am sure that ye do nae wish to be late to Mass because ye were displeased with yer clothing.”
“No, of course nae.”
The blue undergown slid smoothly over her body in a single movement. Maura didn’t give her any time to contemplate the overrobe that was brought forward. It was a darker blue, which meant it had cost even more, because more dye would have been needed to deepen the color. There was also trim sewn onto it, and once the hem was fluttering about her ankles, one of the women laced it closed up her front. Unlike her plain robe, this garment was tailored to her figure. With each eyelet, the robe closed over her hips and waist, until finally even the curves of her breasts were seen clearly. It was very fashionable; something that either of her sisters would have enjoyed full well.
She had never worn anything like it. Her breasts felt strangely sensitive with the fabric of both robes so close to them. She looked down to see the curves clearly displayed by the garment.
“’Tis chilly enough for an arisaid, but I think ye should wait to begin wearing the Lindsey colors until ye have wed.”
One of the maids had already brought forward a length of Lindsey wool, but Maura sent her away with a flick of her fingers. She brought forth long lengths of ribbon that Brina looked at with confusion until she went behind her and began braiding her hair with the ribbons. She fashioned two braids instead of the single plain one that Brina was accustomed to.
“Yer boots need a fair bit of work to make them soft again.”
A pair of leather shoes were set out for her, and stockings dangled from the hands of one maid while another fetched a stool for Brina to sit on. When she lowered herself onto it, the blue fabric became too beautiful to resist. She fingered it, tracing along the line of trim while noticing the tiny stitches that held it in place.
“Here we are, a veil for Mass, and forgive me, mistress, but we had best make haste or we’ll be the last to arrive.”
“Of course, ye are very correct.”
The last piece of fabric was just a rectangle with the edges carefully rolled to keep it from unraveling. But it was a soft butternut color, and the weave so fine, if she held it over her eyes, s
he could still see through it. It didn’t smell like wool either but slipped through her fingers as smoothly as water.
“It is silk.”
Silk? Brina tripped over her own feet, drawing a frown from Maura.
“I’ll have the cobbler see ye as soon as we finish breaking our fast to shorten those shoes.”
The double doors were opened, and the sight of Connor’s retainers standing there distracted her from making any comment about wearing silk. Instead she felt her cheeks turn pink when they reached up and tugged on the corners of their knit bonnets. It wasn’t the respectful gesture that sent heat into her face, but the way their gazes began to twinkle, just a bit in approval of her appearance.
She had never been pretty.
An ache tore at her as she passed the retainers and began hurrying down the stone steps. Pain rose up inside her from a thousand times that she had wished to receive the same compliments her sisters had.
A nun had to learn to live without such praise.
And so she had.
As they descended to the main floor, there were more sounds of footsteps, all of them hurrying toward the open doors of the tower. Outside, she could see the small church built inside the castle yard. Every fortress had one, for to forget to build a house of God inside your walls was like asking to be overrun by raiders intent on pillaging.
The gate that led to the outer yard was raised as well, and people were streaming in to the church from all directions. The bell was ringing faster and louder in warning that the Mass was beginning. Brina hesitated at the doorway, feeling like a child caught with fruit on her hands left there after stealing a tart from the kitchen between meals. Her clothing felt wicked and disrespectful to the father who had promised her to the church.
But Maura gave her a push that sent her stumbling over the threshold and into the sanctuary.
It would seem that she was attending Mass in blue today.
***
Connor wasn’t at Mass.
Brina was disgusted with herself for noticing, but at the same time her curiosity rose to a level that had her sneaking peeks behind her throughout the service to see if he joined the congregation late.
He never did.
The priest gave the final blessing, and she faced the aisle, intending to wait her turn to exit, only to discover that everyone was waiting for her to leave before they did. The entire congregation strained to gain sight of her, stretching their necks and angling their heads so that they might look through any possible hole in the crowd at her. Parents lifted their children up high so that the little ones might peer at her also.
Brina was sure that her cheeks were going to catch fire.
The moment she looked at them, they all began to offer her respect. The men reached for the corners of their caps, while the women nodded their heads, because there was no room for true courtesies in the tight confines of the church.
She took one step and then another one, stumbling her way toward the door as whispers began to rise behind her.
“Bonny thing…”
“Is nae wearing Lindsey colors…”
“She has blue eyes…”
“A bit thin…”
There was a sharp snap, and the voices died instantly. Maura offered her no repentance when Brina turned to see who had wielded such authority over the castle inhabitants.
“Everyone is pleased to have the laird’s bride here.”
“Everyone except my father.”
Maura frowned, and her eyes even darkened. “I have faith that yer father and the laird will come to an agreement.”
There were many nods from those around them, proving that everyone was listening. Brina felt as though there were a stone sitting on top of her chest, making her struggle for every breath she drew. But a quick flick from the head of house’s hand and the congregation began to disperse, most of them going toward the open doors of the tower for a morning meal. Smoke was rising from the long buildings adjacent to the tower, telling her where the kitchens were. The scent of bread was already drifting on the morning breeze.
The priest caught her eyes, and she reached out to him. He took her hand and covered it with his opposite one.
“I will hear yer confession later today before ye come to take yer vows.”
Brina was horrified, pulling her hand free. “But surely ye cannae be in agreement with me doing anything but fulfilling my father’s promise that I become a bride of Christ?”
The priest tucked his hands into the wide sleeves of his robe. “The laird came to me early this morning, and I am well contented by his thoughts upon this very important matter. Yer father will send yer sister to the abbey. It is she who needs the stern hand of discipline to keep her from the path of damnation. I will marry ye.”
Her throat felt as though it were shrinking. She heard Maura muttering something beneath her breath before the woman grasped her hand and began to lead her back toward the open doors of the tower. Snow clung to the roof ledges and sat in large clumps on the ground where it had not been trampled by those going to Mass. A light dusting of it continued to float down while they watched.
“A warm meal will make ye feel sturdy and strong, mistress.”
Maura used the title, but Brina felt anything but in command of the woman. The head of house pulled her right up the steps and through the doorway of the tower, where the scent of warm food drew a growl from her belly. It was deep and long, betraying just how hungry she was.
But she froze in place at the entrance to the first floor of the tower where long trestle tables were hosting the inner castle’s inhabitants for their first meal of the day. At the far end of the common room was a raised platform that played host to a long head table.
That was the high table, the laird’s seat.
Connor sat there with several men who all wore two feathers upright on the sides of their bonnets. They stopped talking when she was sighted, and Connor looked up from a parchment he’d been reading along with Shawe.
She shivered as his gaze met hers. The reaction was instantaneous and beyond her ability to control. His gaze traveled along her revealed figure, and his lips twitched into a grin before he raised his attention back to her face. By that time she was nervously fingering the fabric of her gown as she tried to tell herself not to care about what his opinion was of her.
She shouldn’t care a bit…
“Please join me, my lady.”
He indicated the chair to his right, which was the only seat left vacant at the high table. The position proclaimed her as mistress of Birch Stone and his bride. The table was a formal one, set above the others to illustrate that those who ate there were considered of a higher station. Every man there had earned the right to sit beside their laird, and Connor had gained his seat by serving his clan. Even if she was bound to refuse him, she could not keep from admiring the dedication he had for his people.
She held the same respect for her father. At that moment she felt suspended between both men while they pulled her toward them, but in the doing of that, they threatened to rip her apart.
Brina shook her head. “I will be content at the lower tables, Laird Lindsey.”
Connor frowned, as did several of his captains.
“Yer place is here, Brina, beside me.”
He was using her Christian name deliberately. Only her father and siblings used her first name in public. Connor was making it clear that he felt he had the right to call her by such an intimate name, even in public.
Such was the right of a husband.
She shook her head to dispel the idea. “I disagree, Laird Lindsey.”
The hall quieted.
“Are ye saying that ye still refuse to wed me, Brina?”
He was irritated and possibly worse, for his face was flushed slightly and his eyes narrowed.
“I cannae do less
than honor my father’s word.”
She could feel the weight of the stares of his captains and the women who served the hall. There was a loud scraping sound as he pushed his chair back, made more noticeable by the lack of other noise in the hall now that everyone was standing still, waiting to hear what would happen.
He moved down the steps that kept the high table elevated, but even when his feet were on even standing with her, she still had to raise her chin to maintain eye contact with him. For the moment he was every inch the Highlander laird. There was no hint of leniency in his expression, and he hooked his fingers around the wide leather belt that held his kilt in place while he braced his feet shoulder width apart.
“Yer father is nae here; I am.” His voice held a challenge now, one her pride eagerly rose to, because her honor was not something she would allow others to discard so simply.
“I should imagine that every father wearing yer colors would expect his grown daughter to heed his word, even when she is away from his sight.” Her voice was firm and even because she realized that she did not fear him. She should have, for the man was large and his arms cut with muscles that spoke clearly of his greater strength, but there was no fear that he would strike her for daring to voice her opinion. There was a ripple of whispers among those eating.
His eyes filled with his temper. “Then we have a battle between us, lady, and it is one I intend to claim victory from.”
Five
A ripple of conversation went through those watching, but Connor reached out and captured her hand before she had the chance to answer him.
“Begin the meal without us.”
Connor tossed his words over his shoulder while he pulled her along with him. He took her down a hallway and into another room, where there were no curious eyes upon them. He released her hand when she tugged on it, and stood with his hands braced on his hips while he watched her from beneath hooded eyes.
“What do ye gain by refusing to kneel for the church’s blessing, Brina?”
