by Fiona Faris
Eventually he found her ensconced in the library, reading.
“There you are.”
She looked up with a smile. “Here I am. Did you need me for something?”
Alexander flopped down onto the chair next to her with a sharp exhalation of breath. “I dinna ken what I’m doing, Rebby. Perhaps we should cut our losses and just go?”
Rebecca put her book aside. “What’s happened now?”
“I think I just might kill Philip Bristol.”
His sister smiled. “I’d hold him down for ye. But what’s he done now?”
“He’s whispering in her ear. Turning my bride to be against me.”
“He’s an insidious poison that one. Ye should watch out for him.”
“Aye, I ken it. But what can I do when she is dazzled by his golden locks and flawless skin, impeccable fashion and his green eyes?” Alexander sneered as he described his enemy. “I cannot compete with that.”
“Ye dinna need to compete! He is nowhere near the man ye are.”
Alexander snorted. “Tell that to Lady Emily Caldwell.”
Rebecca shrugged. “She’ll find out soon enough. Once ye are marrit, we shall go off to this new place - Dun Alba - and ye shall have plenty of time to acquaint her with yer charms.”
Alexander laughed. “What do ye know about ma charms?”
The girl shrugged her eyes soft. “I know that yer a guid man, Alexander MacTavish.”
Alexander smirked. “Aye, I am that.”
Their eyes met and they started to laugh.
At the bottom of the garden was an artificial lake. It was just the beginning of spring, and it was a perfect setting for a wedding. Lord Caldwell walked the king around, showing him where they would erect the canvas in-case of rain.
“I think we will have a beautiful ceremony.”
The king nodded. “Indeed. It is important that we forge these connections with the Scots, Caldwell. You have done well in proving your loyalty.”
“Thank you sire. The boy’s stature is raised high among his people due to his bravery and recognition by your majesty. It will most certainly be a point in our favour should the roundheads launch a new attack.”
The king smiled. “His fighting prowess is not to be dismissed either. We can use such men like MacTavish.”
“His regiment is loyal, and he commands respect amongst the other Highland regiments. He will be very useful.”
“Now Caldwell on to more pleasant topics, tell me more about your wedding preparations.”
“We thought to incorporate some Scottish wedding traditions to make it more inclusive. My wife is consulting with the boy’s sister to see what we can manage.”
The king smiled. “I believe there is a tradition known as a Quaich that is quite quaint and endearing.”
“Is that so? I shall have Lady Caldwell ask about it.”
They walked on quietly, watching the estate workers erect the wedding tent, chairs, flowers and the altar where the couple would be married.
Lord Caldwell looked for a neutral topic that would not remind the king of his brother’s betrayal or the debt the Caldwells owed to the Crown. “What is this Quaich about?”
“Well as it was described to me, it is a two-handled shallow cup engraved with Celtic writing and filled with whiskey. They call it the love cup as it is meant for the bride and groom to grasp together and drink. The glass is then passed around to the important family members to drink.”
Lord Caldwell laughed. “Somehow I do not see the boy participating in such a tradition. It seems to me to be tremendously soft-headed.”
The king gave him a sideways glance. “If you have seen him with his sister you know he has a soft side.”
“Indeed. She is most definitely his weak spot.”
Lady Caldwell knocked softly on Rebecca's door.
“Yes?”
“May I come in?”
“O’ course its yer house isn't it?”
Lady Caldwell walked into the room, an uncomfortable look on her face. “Indeed, it is but this room has been given to you for the duration of your visit. It would be rude of me to enter without your permission.”
“You English and your rules.”
Lady Caldwell sighed patiently. “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
Rebecca spread her arms accommodatingly. “Of course.”
“We want your brother to feel as much represented in this wedding as our daughter. Do you have any traditions you would like to include in the wedding?”
Rebecca beamed, nodding her head. “Indeed, I do. An old Celtic blood vow binds the couple together in more than just spirit. My brother has long been deprived of a family. If yer daughter would be willing to make that vow, I know it would mean the world to him.”
Lady Caldwell's face softened with sympathy. “But of course she would.”
Rebecca gave a cynical smile. “Perhaps ye should ask her first.”
Chapter Six
Emily's wedding dress was an off-white confection of lace and silk, perhaps not as virginal as her mother would have liked, but was beautiful nonetheless. Emily looked a picture, an ivory willow of cream.
Alexander was waiting, standing beside the priest clad in traditional Scottish tartan, and looking every bit the foreigner. His dark hair was tied and well-groomed and his blue eyes shone against his stark white sark. He wore a cravat neatly tied at his neck, and if Emily had not known better, she would have assumed he was a gentleman.
They had not seen each other since their altercation in the balustrades. Emily had been actively avoiding Alexander, not quite knowing what to say, and a little embarrassed that he had caught her with Philip. She was very confused but was a woman of honour: clearly, he had assumed that something was going on between her and Phillip. If he had been an Englishman, he would have realised that she was a woman of honour and would never do anything to betray him.
She was willing to concede that perhaps she had been standing too close to Philip and that their body language might have been misconstrued. How was she to proceed with this marriage now that it had gotten off to such an ignominious start?
She clenched her fists. We are doomed before we even begin.
She stayed silent in the midst of the of her sisters’ excitement. Even Elinor had been swept up in the novelty and exhilaration of planning a wedding. They all wore new gowns in different colours of the rainbow, and even Emily had to smile when she looked at them. They were the personification of joy.
The king looked resplendent in pink and beamed at everyone from his place of honour, clearly pleased with the proceedings. Perhaps the marriage wasn’t a mistake. Everyone from the king to her father was eager for her to marry the Scotsman. Alexander himself seemed to be stoic if distant. She had no idea how he felt. For all, she knew he hated her as much as she found him abhorrent, although she ignored the little voice in her head that said, do you really?
Eleanor handed her the bouquet, and the music began. It was time for her to walk down the makeshift aisle to stand with her husband to be.
She prayed that her legs would hold her upright, for she was feeling a little shaky. Her father was at her side, beaming proudly, ready to do his duty, and looping her hand in his they walked together down the aisle.
Alexander turned at the last minute to face her, his face blank and impassive but strangely handsome. Her face was veiled but she favoured him with a shy smile.
Emily’s mother had mentioned they would be incorporating some Scottish traditions into the ceremony. Without elaborating further, she had said that Alexander would guide her. She hoped he would not use the chance to make a fool out of her, still upset about their encounter. He would never do something like that in front of the king, surely not.
Matching her steps to the music, they glided slowly towards the altar. Wedding guests, consisting of the men that her father had fought with, their household as well as close neighbours rose to their feet, turning to face her. S
he smiled, knowing that this was her time to shine.
Alexander extended his arm towards her as they approached and letting go of her father, she looped her arm around his, jerking at the unexpected hardness of his bicep. This man had a strange affect upon her that she could not fathom. Covering her hand with his own, they turned towards the priest, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to today to celebrate the union of two souls; Alexander James MacTavish and Emily Victoria Caldwell.”
Emily turned to look up at her husband to be. His eyes shone as he listened to the priest, and he seemed rather pleased with the proceedings.
Emily repeated the vows by rote, her eyes locked on Alexander’s. His voice on return was deep and low. The vows spoken, the priest turned to Alexander.
“You have a ritual you wanted to add?” At a sign from her brother, Rebecca stepped forward and presented Alexander with a silver dirk, decorated with baubles looked like precious stones.
He turned to her, his face serious. “Repeat after me, ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my Body, that we two might be One. I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be done.” Taking her wrist, he turned her hand, slashing a line across her palm. Ignoring her cry, more out of surprise than pain, he continued with the chant. “You cannot possess me for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me, for I am a free person. But I shall serve you in those ways you require. And the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand.”
She repeated the words obediently, even as she recoiled inwardly at the barbarity of the ritual. As he spoke, he slashed his own palm, pressing their hands together so that their blood mixed.
Rebecca handed him a two-handled wooden cup, decorated with engravings that looked ancient. It was filled to the brim with a liquid that smelled sour; cloying and acrid. It was most definitely alcoholic. He picked up her hand, closing it around one handle of the cup while he took the other.
“Now we drink.” Lifting the cup to her lips, he urged her to drink as he did the same. She took a tentative sip, almost spitting it out. The whiskey was very strong and she was not used to it.
His eyes crinkled in amusement, the hint of a smile upon his lips. How could this man, a man she barely knew make her feel exhilarated by the merest stretch of his lips? It was the first real smile she had seen on his face and it caused his eyes to sparkle like gems; his face lit up with an inner joy. It was a smile that demanded a response.
She responded with her own, mirroring his happiness. His eyes widened the sight of her smile, surprised by the sudden show of emotion.
“You may now kiss the bride.” The priest's voice startled her, she had forgotten that they were not alone.
There was no need to wonder if he would kiss her and she watched mesmerised as his lips came closer. An impression of warmth and wetness suffused her as his lips met hers. Her lips softened of their own accord, and she expected that his would harden in response, maybe even plundering her own, unexplored mouth. Instead, he left her with the gentlest of touches that left her tingling, eager for more.
She swallowed her disappointment as he turned her to face the congregation, lifting her hand in a gesture of triumph. She beamed as the gathering cheered, feeling that she had played her part well; her family would be proud that she had secured their future.
Alexander walked her back up the aisle towards the long tables set with the wedding breakfast. The musicians began to play a different tune; something fast and merry, as the guests took their seats and the tables groaned with food.
The king was seated first, followed by the bride and groom, their families and other guests. Alexander took her plate and filled it but he said little to her, spending his time talking to her father, the king, or his sister instead.
Emily turned away smiling at her mother sitting opposite. Lady Caldwell’s eyes were blurry with tears, a sad-looking smile on her face.
Emily frowned. “What’s the matter, mother?”
“Nothing my dear, I am just so very happy for you.”
The girl reached across the table to squeeze her mother's hand. “Well then don't cry or you'll make me cry too.”
Her mother squeezed back, tears rolling down her cheek. “Please be happy my dear.”
Emily’s stomach twisted.
Even mama is worried for me
Her fears and doubts returned tenfold.
Can I really sustain this marriage?
She watched as her husband happily converses in company that would never have accepted him were it not for the war and his heroic deeds upon the battlefield. Her bandaged palm was now beginning to smart and she wondered what the Scottish vow had really meant.
Was she now bound to him in an even more unbreakable way? She suspected that with their savage customs were meant to imply that. Sighing she took another sip of her drink - mulled wine, sweetened with honey and spices and much more palatable than the whiskey. Draining her goblet she noticed that her that her new husband was considering her thoughtfully.
She met his eyes, putting her glass down and they stared at each other for, before his sister spoke and he turned away.
“I think that the two o’ ye will manage alright.”
Alexander turned to Rebecca, his mouth twisted with doubt. “Is that so? Then why does my bride look so miserable?”
“Probably because ye havna said a word tae her since the marriage?”
Alexander raised aneyebrow. “I said plenty to her at the altar.”
Rebecca laughed. “Yer impossible, Alex. Now eat yer food so ye can be braw and ready for yer wedding night.”
Alexander coloured at the implied activities. “Can we not speak of that please?”
She watched incredulously as the colour rose in his face. “What? Ye slice a man’s head off without a second thought but canna discuss yer wedding night with yer sister?”
“Exactly. My sister. Now, wheesht before someone hears ye.”
Philip watched from afar, as the Scotsman attained what he himself so desperately desired - access to a title and the lands that went with it. As the second son of a nobleman, he was expected to become a soldier or perhaps even join the church. That was not his ambition.
He had no intention of getting hurt - or God forbid, killed - in battle and he had not the temperament for piety. Besides, he intended to enjoy the ‘sins of the flesh’ for as long as he could. Evidently, Miss Caldwell was taken with him. It would not take much to turn her head away from the intimidating Scotsman.
He was everything that was unfamiliar to her, unlike Philip. It was not too late, even if they were married, to institute his plan. Her cow eyes were the key to his future and he intended to use them to his advantage.
Philip took another drink. He might have rubbed his hands gleefully if he was not in company. Plastering a smile on his face, he turned to one of Emily’s sisters, hoping to God it was not the deaf one.
Lady Caldwell rose from the wedding feast, murmured an excuse about checking on the kitchens, and stumbled away. Her heart was torn as she watched her daughter; eyes so big and scared. She was not blind and could see that Emily was unsure about the marriage. The woman’s mind drifted back to her own betrothal. She had been a young girl on the cusp of womanhood, just turned sixteen when her father announced that he had found her a groom. It had not even occurred to her to protest. Her father’s word was law.
It has thankfully turned out quite well. They regarded each other with considerable affection; confided in each other, supported each other. Yet their union had been built upon different foundations. They were both children of nobility, brought up from birth to be aware of their position, their responsibilities, and the expectations that society laid upon them. It had certainly made the transition easier.
This Scot was simply a wild man, clad in the trappings of civilization but with nothing of the manners or finesse of society. How would they fare to
gether? Would her daughter be safe? The sister had already displayed open hostility toward Lady Caldwell. What if they acted the same with Emily? How would she live?
Lady Caldwell wished there was something that could be done, but nothing came to mind. Her eyes fell on Alexander and she resolved to speak with him before this day was done. Returning to her seat, her mind was quieter now that she had a plan of action.
Alexander could only take so much feasting and conversation before he needed to be somewhere quiet; he had developed the habit after the war. Sometimes his head became too loud and he needed peace to quieten it down.
