Her stomach felt heavy, almost bloated, but she put it down to nerves, or possibly even her monthly courses. She straightened her spine and told herself not to be so weak and foolish.
“Well, if you’re sure, Shive, then let us go. You know I'll support you no matter what decision you make, even if the rest of the family turns against you.”
Mahon rode along side her slowly and silently, until finally Ruairi and Ernin caught up with them.
“Are you all right?” Ruairi asked Shive, concerned when he saw her pale face.
“I just want to get to Castlegarren before the storm begins,” Shive lied, and hoped Ruairi would accept her word. "And there's nothing like a good gallop."
As luck would have it, snow suddenly began to swirl around them riotously. Her deep fur-lined hood obscured her distraught features sufficiently, so that Ruairi accept her explanation without demur.
He merely commented, “Well, after that race across your territory, we'll most certainly be early now. But as you say, it's a poor time to be exposed to the elements. If we speed up the pace once more, we'll be in the castle precincts in another ten minutes or so.”
Shive nodded. Pulling her hood more securely around her finely boned face, she clicked to her horse and tried to leave the unpleasant memory of the morning behind her once and for all as she crossed into O’Hara territory.
As they neared Castlegarren, Shive’s breath caught in her throat. It was a fine old castle of four stories built out of the native dark stone, and was encircled by a fine set of walled fortifications. Outside the main stronghold were a further three sets of walls enclosing the small village which had developed around the castle precincts over the years.
The castle roof was in excellent repair. There were quite a few windows in the walls, and the battlements were lined with soldiers, all no doubt looking for a sign of the wedding party’s arrival. The well-ordered castle impressed Shive, and compared favorably to her own homes at Skeard and Rathnamagh, which weren’t nearly as well fortified or efficiently run, no doubt due to her father’s general lack of interest in his holdings compared with his incessant warfare.
Shive could hear a horn sound in the distance to warn the residents of Castlegarren that the bride and wedding guests had arrived. She began to tremble with fear. How would Tiernan receive her? What could she possibly say to him?
But Shive had little time to worry, for within a few minutes they had entered the first set of gates, and were riding up the long winding passage way, with high walls on both sides. At last they entered the fourth and final set of gates and found themselves in the spacious inner courtyard outside the main entrance to the castle itself. Shive tried to dismiss thoughts of a spider’s web as she swung down off her horse and handed the reins to a groom.
As she pulled off her dark hood, she saw Tiernan towering over her. He must have come straight out of the great hall to bid her welcome. She had expected more formality, and gave a tremulous smile.
There was no warmth in his manner, just an unnerving stare as he bowed over her hand. “Welcome to your new home, my lady.”
Then he was all smiles as he hugged Ruairi to him and clapped him on the shoulder heartily.
“You’re very early, but all is prepared within, old friend. I’m glad you've arrived safely. I confess the snow made me somewhat alarmed that there might be a delay or postponement in your coming.”
Shive watched him shyly from under veiled lids. He was wearing naught but a black tunic and leggings, the snow dappling the rich velvet garments and his long, flowing ebony hair unheeded. She saw he had changed little in the past five years. Tiernan was as breathtakingly handsome as ever. He was a bit thinner than she remembered, his face darker and slightly more rugged and weary from a rough life in the outdoors fighting by Ruairi’s side in their summer campaigns, or against her father when he attacked Tiernan’s villages. But Tiernan’s midnight blue eyes were still the same, piercingly critical as he gazed at her narrowly.
Shive’s heart pounded against her chest as Tiernan moved to take her elbow, and began to lead the way into the castle. Tiernan still towered over her, despite the fact that she had grown in the last few years. She couldn’t help but feel completely overpowered by him. As they walked up the ladders to the first story of the castle, his eyes never once left her face. She could see him weighing, assessing, yet his expression remained completely impassive, giving her no clue as to his thoughts.
“If you'll come this way, Shive, I've taken the liberty of appointing a maid to help you with your preparations. The sooner we're wed, the sooner we can begin the feast,” Tiernan said softly as he kept hold of one of her gloved hands and led her to another ladder which gave access to the second story.
The warmth of Tiernan’s fingers scorched right through the leather glove. Shive felt her mouth go dry with fear. Again she felt the same nagging pain in the pit of her stomach, and prayed she wouldn’t vomit from nerves and disgrace herself entirely. She gritted her teeth, and though she felt the sweat break out all over her, she managed to smile graciously and thanked Tiernan for his kindness.
Tiernan escorted her to a small unfurnished chamber which she saw was filled with her trunks, loom and other personal items which she had sent over from Skeard the day before.
“This will be your workroom. You shall have your choice of any sleeping chamber in the castle, but we shall postpone that decision until a more convenient time.
“And this is Mairead. She took the liberty of unpacking some of your things, and will help you to dress. I shall see you in several moments. Go down the same stairs again when you're ready. Ruairi will wait for you there to conduct you to the ceremony.”
“Thank you, my lord, for this most gracious reception,” Shive managed to get out without opening her mouth too widely for fear of being sick.
Tiernan finally released her hand, and continued to stare quizzically at her in the doorway for several moments longer, before closing the heavy oak portal behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Mairead whisked Shive’s blue veil and gown over her head in one tug, and put in its stead a lovely cream colored gown of velvet decorated with exquisite embroidery and jewels all along the square neckline, the sleeves, and along the entire hem and train. It was not a perfect fit, too wide in the hips and a bit short in the front, but it was the most beautiful dress Shive had ever seen.
“Really, I can’t, it’s too fine and...” she began to protest weakly, but all the while Mairead, a short plump woman of about twenty, clucked at her, commenting on her lovely figure and beautiful auburn hair.
“Come along, my lady, you must look your best for the wedding, and there is little time to argue. They are all eagerly waiting downstairs,” the maid said, before handing her a bouquet cleverly made out of pinecones and berried holly all twisted into a large spray.
Finally she clasped some pearls around Shive’s neck and waist, and then topped the whole ensemble with a golden headdress encrusted with jewels, and swathed in yards of the finest gauze Shive had ever seen.
“No, really, 'tis too much,” Shive protested.
“Nonsense, you must have your head covered, and all ladies of fashion wear a veil,” Mairead insisted as she pulled one edge of the gossamer fabric over Shive’s astonished face.
“There, as pretty as a daisy,” the maid said with a grin, then practically tugged Shive down the ladder by the hand. Shive was rather unsteady on her feet as her stomach continued to churn, and she nearly fell into the waiting arms of Mahon and Ernin.
“Lovely. I’ve never seen you looking better,” Ernin praised enthusiastically.
“A princess, truly.” Mahon beamed and kissed her quickly before replacing the veil over her cold, pale cheek.
“Well, don’t stand gawking, Ruairi, it’s freezing out here,” Ernin scolded. “We’ll go inside, and see you both later.”
Ruairi stood dumbfounded.
Shive mistook his silence for guilt. “It’s very kind of you t
o go to so much trouble on my account, Ruairi. But I refuse to be treated like someone you can take pity on and give charity to,” Shive began to protest.
Ruairi covered her mouth with his hand suddenly, and tugged back the veil to look at her more closely.
“You can still change your mind, you know. I’m beginning to doubt the wisdom of this. God help me, though I know I promised I would give you up, Shive, I can feel my resolve weakening every moment you stand there looking so lovely,” Ruairi whispered in torment as he clutched her slender form to him.
She stared at him, thunderstruck. Her wedding was supposed to start in a moment. Tiernan was waiting for her. The way her intended bridegroom had looked at her with his sultry dark blue eyes had spread a warm heat throughout her entire body.
Yet Ruairi had ever been her friend. And was begging her to give him a second chance.
What on earth could she possibly say?
Chapter Four
Though her head was pounding, Shive managed to disengage herself from Ruairi’s ardent embrace, and gave him a small tender smile. Her violet eyes met his emerald ones for a moment, and she patted his hand before pushing it back down to rest at his side.
“You know how fond I’ve always been of you. But I couldn’t turn back now, Ruairi, even if I wished to. I don’t love you as a woman should love her husband, as well you know. You've said it yourself. And I know I don’t love Tiernan, not now at any rate, but I admire him. And in the future, who knows? He’s a good man, and he deserves a good wife. I’ll do my best to be that wife.
"At any rate, it’s gone beyond a question of our small, petty desires. This is a political marriage which will have overwhelming consequences for this entire region. I can’t pull back now, you know I can't. Think of the offense it would cause. It would start a whole new war.
“As for you loving me, Ruairi, we both know you love your own power and prospects of one day becoming high king far more. So what I’m about to do now is the best for everyone concerned. There's no turning back. No matter how much you feel your resolve weakening, mine remains firm. This is for the good of all of Ireland, truly. You shall be a great high king one day. Such a man is be wed to our land. I deserve better than to be a mere mistress or concubine. I shall marry Tiernan, and try to be happy, even though you're hurt by it.”
At length, Ruairi nodded and sighed. "Very well, my dear. Go to Tiernan, with my blessing." He adjusted her veil once more and took her arm to place it in the crook of his elbow.
Shive hated to see the pain in his sparkling emerald eyes, but really, this was the only way to win peace in the land she loved so well. If the whole truth were told, Shive felt terrified at even the mere thought of ever trying to run away from those piercing and indomitable dark blue eyes. She knew she would never have the nerve to even had she wished to.
It was not in her nature to be womanly and faint at the least little cause, but she was glad to have Ruairi’s strong arm to lean on as she walked into the great hall at Castlegarren. Her legs felt like jelly and her head had begun to throb so badly it ached with every step she took.
I must be coming down with a chill, Shive guessed miserably as she plodded through the entrance.
Shive nearly swooned in shock when she saw the entire O’Hara clan had assembled for the wedding in the vast vaulted oak-beamed hall. The room was bedecked with flowers and ribbons, and the tables were full to overflowing with every delicacy for the feast afterwards.
She shot Ruairi a rebellious look which he could not see through her veil. She hissed in his ear, “Could you not have left me with some pride?”
Ruairi, surprised at her angry words, nearly stopped short, thinking, praying that she might have changed her mind after all.
Shive, in a towering rage due to her firm belief that Ruairi had made all the arrangements for the gown and feast, was so furious that when she saw him pause she practically dragged him up the aisle between the two long sets of trestle tables.
Shive continued to fume all the way through the ceremony, so that she barely heard a word, and managed with stiff-backed pride to ignore the aching feeling in her stomach. She was sure Ruairi had paid for the sumptuous gown, the feast, and had even invited all these people to witness her farce of a marriage. Worse still, that he had let everyone know that the great Tiernan O’Hara was marrying a pauper. Ruairi had tried to make her seem like less of a poor orphan, no doubt out of kindness, but nevertheless it still rankled in her soul that he had so carefully managed everything for her, almost as though he were trying to run her life.
While Shive stood there fuming, responding without thought to the things which were being said, all had progressed apace. Suddenly the ceremony was over, and Tiernan lifted the veil to kiss Shive. Shive was so stunned at his awesome presence that her lips parted in a gasp, and the kiss she received thus grew more than intimate. In fact, it was almost indecent.
There was no comparison between Ruairi’s kisses and Tiernan’s, Shive decided somewhere in the back of her reeling mind as the contact deepened. She felt so lightheaded she was convinced she was being swept away by a whirlwind. His mouth on hers wove the most incredible magic, and the play of his lips and tongue contained all sorts of unspoken promises she had only just begun, in her innocence, to guess at.
He was man, she was woman. This was as nature intended, and as God willed. And as she longed for as well, she admitted in shock as she tilted her head to let him gain freer access to her mouth.
Just as suddenly as he had begun, Tiernan broke off the kiss, and blinked a few times, almost as if in surprise, before they both noticed that dozens of well-wishers had crowded around them to offer their congratulations.
“You must start the feast, Brother. And may I call you sister now?” said one tall, brown-haired, and brown-eyed young man of about twenty-two, whom Tiernan introduced as his youngest brother Cian.
He then introduced his other brother Lasaran, also dark-haired, with cat-like green eyes, who looked at her coldly and with obvious suspicion.
The next man to come up to wish them well was his sergeant at arms in the castle, a grizzled old man called Irial who beamed at her and kissed her affectionately.
As they all offered their congratulations, Shive was stunned that there seemed to be hardly any reticence, or even animosity against her for who she was, the daughter of the O’Hara clan’s worst enemy. Again, she could just imagine Ruairi doing his best to ingratiate himself with the O’Haras by means of presents and fine promises. Her eyes swiveled around rapidly until she saw her cousin and caught hold of him with one hand.
“You did all this, didn’t you? The gown, the food, the guests!” Shive whispered angrily amid the throng of well-wishers. “Why? So I wouldn’t disgrace you? Because you felt sorry for me? You care about me, but not enough to marry me yourself, even assuming I loved you, which I don’t. Did you prepare a huge wedding feast in order to alleviate your guilt about feeding me to the wolves?” Shive accused bitterly.
“Shive, I have no idea what you're talking about! Tiernan must have arranged all of this. I certainly had nothing to do with it!” Ruairi protested hotly, clinging to her arm to try to make her listen to him.
Tiernan noticed the angry exchange between the two attractive young people, and stared at Shive through hooded lids.
“She's a beauty, brother, you have to give her credit for that,” Cian said softly, as he saw his brother’s handsome face cloud over.
“Aye, and as we both know to our cost, the ones who look like angels are the very devil within,” Tiernan muttered as he saw his new bride move away from her cousin in order to thank everyone graciously for their good wishes, and try to get to know her new family better.
“She certainly is queenly, for all her difficulties over the past few years,” Tiernan remarked reflectively a short time later as he continued to observe her.
“Aye, but did you notice also, she was riding astride, and sat the horse like she had been born on it. She's beautifu
l, certainly, but there’s a great deal more to her underneath. I for one don’t think it’s devilish. Don’t underestimate her, Tiernan, or label her as a conniving woman just because you’ve had one bitter experience in the past,” Cian advised.
“As if I would ever underestimate a MacDermot living under my own roof,” Tiernan said sourly.
He suddenly found Shive’s huge violet eyes staring up at him with an unmistakable expression of hurt pride. She moved to go, but Tiernan’s hand flashed out like lightning to take hold of hers quickly, and stay her.
“Come, my lady, let's start the feast,” Tiernan said softly, and led her to the table. He began by making sure all in the company were toasted, before the guests began to shovel their meal in with gusto.
Shive, her stomach still raging like a volcano, merely picked at her food. Tiernan’s words had pained her enormously, for they not only indicated his real feelings towards their marriage, but reminded her all too uncomfortably of what her father had proposed she do once she was Tiernan’s wife.
The Hart and the Harp Page 5
