Her new husband soon remarked beside her, “Is the food not to your taste? The cooks will prepare whatever you wish, my lady Shive. You have only to ask.”
Shive met his piercing blue eyes candidly. “In truth, my lord, it's far richer than I'm accustomed to,” she said, nibbling a small piece of wild boar smothered in a delicate sauce only to allay Tiernan’s fears that the viands did not appeal.
“Why are you so angry with Ruairi?”
“Angry?” Shive repeated, coloring to the roots of her hair.
“I saw you and he exchanging heated words. I would like to know why you were so furious with him.” He frowned. “Did he say ought to offend you?”
Shive shook her head. “Nay, nothing like that. Ruairi, well, he embarrassed me, organizing this wedding, the dress especially. It is far too extravagant a gift, one I can never hope to repay.”
Tiernan looked at her in surprise. “Is not the gown to your liking? If you had been able to make your own arrangements for the perfect wedding, would you not have had food such as this, guests such as these?”
Shive saw the grim look on his face, and was terrified she had offended him in some way. “All your family and friends are very cheerful and kind. Much more kind than a MacDermot deserves,” she couldn’t resist saying, recalling the conversation between Tiernan and his brother which she had overheard.
“But as I've said, I can’t repay the debt. As you well know, my father has let me take nothing but a few personal effects. It's always been a matter of pride with me that I only spend what I can afford, and take what I'm entitled to. I shall have to work hard to pay my cousin back. The Lord only knows how I shall manage.”
“Clearly I have not married a women of extravagant tastes,” Tiernan said wryly.
Shive, hurt at his mocking tone, pressed her hands together in her lap and bowed her head to stare at her plate as she struggled to hold back her tears.
Tiernan blinked for a moment, then realized he had upset her with his casual words. “I’m sorry you don't like the gown. It was the dress my mother wore when she was married over thirty years ago. The headdress was also hers. My sister Claire, a nun in the convent over at Killour, made the alterations. I suppose any girl as young as yourself would consider it old-fashioned. I’m sorry I didn’t stop to consider that.”
Shive gaped in astonishment. “You’ve given me your mother’s wedding gown?”
Tiernan misunderstood her reaction, and observed, “I know your pride is piqued at having to accept gifts. But what would you have had me do? Celebrate our nuptials with you in rags, and no guests, as though we had no friends or people who cared about us? As if we had done something to be ashamed of?”
Shive rubbed her throbbing temples, not daring to tell Tiernan how close to the truth was his assessment of her worldly goods, especially her clothes.
“For my own part, if that's what you wanted, I would have married you in just that way to please you. I don’t hide in corners, worrying what others think of me. But nor would I have you disappointed on this, your most special day. I made the best arrangements I could considering the shortness of the time allowed me. I'm sorry if I have made you unhappy, and caused you to fall out with Ruairi over a matter which is, to me, trifling.”
Shive finally found her tongue to express her gratitude at all the trouble Tiernan had gone to on her behalf. She gazed directly into his deep blue eyes for once, making no attempt to avoid his pentrating gaze.
“Truly, my lord, the gown is beyond belief, more lovely than anything I could ever have expected, even had I not been the outcast that I am. I truly love it. But I burn with shame to think of all the effort and cost you have put yourself to on my account. As I have said, I cannot hope to repay you for a very long time.”
Tiernan still wondered if this were an act on her part to make him feel sorry for her. But from her earnest gaze and obviously proud mien, he began to trust her sincerity, and started to thaw towards Shive. She was unique in his experience of women. After all, he had never heard any woman complain of too much wealth and attention before. But lest he become too easy-going towards her, Tiernan maintained his gruff demeanor.
“Repay me with your loyalty then, Shive MacDermot. Money holds no interest for me.” He seemed to dismiss the matter abruptly with a wave of his hand.
Shive responded quickly, “'Tis more than the money. It's a debt of honor, for protecting me, preventing me from being disgraced in front of my new family. Therefore I shall repay you. As for my loyalty, I swore that to you when I took my vows, my lord.”
He shot her an incredulous look and took another mouthful of ale moodily. “Not everyone lives up to the vows they make, Shive, as I've learned from bitter experience. As for repaying me, think nothing of it. Surely a husband is allowed to give his wife presents, is he not?” Tiernan queried when he saw that she was about to protest again.
“Yes, I suppose, but in our circumstances...” Shive started to argue.
Tiernan shook his head. “In that case, it is my pleasure to give you this wedding as a gift, and we will say no more about the matter.”
Shive offered him a tentative smile and nodded.
“Now, child, it would please me as your husband to see you eat. You look very pale and thin, and I would have you be happy and rosy here in your new home,” Tiernan said with a more warm and kind look.
Shive gazed at him, mesmerized by his power and authority. His ability to make her give in to his wishes even when she knew she was in the right. It was as though, despite the huge crowd surrounding them in the magnificent oak-beamed O'Hara hall, they were the only two people in the room.
Tiernan’s lips moved then, and Shive had to strain to catch the words above the din of the crowd and the pounding in her head. “Your lovely face is so expressive, Shive, and yet I can't even begin to guess what's going through your mind.”
Before she could reply, Tiernan pulled his gaze away from her alluring violet eyes, and moved a bit further away from her on the bench to escape from the tantalizing view of the soft curves of her breasts which the low neckline of the gown amply revealed when he looked down at her.
Shive hurriedly sought a reply, before he left her to speak to their other guests. She decided truth was always the best policy, especially with a man as astute as Tiernan. “I suppose I’m just wondering at your kindness to me. Not that you aren’t usually a kind person, Tiernan. I remember you were always very nice to me when I was young. But after everything that's happened in the past five years, you should hate me and everything I stand for. Yet you’ve taken so much trouble to do this for me,” she said, indicating the wedding party with a sweep of her hand.
He slid closer to her on the bench once more. “Shive, let us settle this matter between us now, so that it doesn’t cloud the rest of our days and nights together for however long we're married. I'm not in the habit of waging war on women and children, and you are both in my eyes. However I might feel about your father and older cousins, I give you my word that you are safe from any retribution I might ever contemplate.
“I'm not a man given to revenge. Once started, it's a cycle of destruction that can last for all time. Don’t you see, Shive, I agreed to this marriage when Ruairi suggested it in order to bury the past. I never want one word of reproach to come between us with regard to Fiachra’s death, or the destruction Uistean has caused, is that clear? I will not have my life with you become a battleground in a misplaced search for the truth.
“Nor will I beg and plead with you to believe me innocent of your brother's murder. For no matter what I were to say in my defense, I am sure, as Fiachra’s grieving sister, you will always have doubts. So, believe what you like on that score, Shive, only never, ever say it to my face. And never try to take your revenge, for I will kill you as surely as I sit here if you force me to defend myself,” Tiernan said coldly.
With that he stood up from the table and moved over to drink with some of his guests and make sure they were eating the
ir fill.
Shive sat there alone and trembling, one hand clapped over her mouth, shaken to the core by Tiernan’s last harsh words. How could he trust her so little? Again, her father’s words came back to her unbidden. She shuddered with fear.
Shive longed to lie down in a nice warm bed, pull the covers over herself, and never wake again. She could barely keep her head up, and her stomach lurched every time a new platter of delicacies was brought past for her inspection and approval.
Ruairi came up to her a short while later. “I hope you aren’t still angry with me, Shive.”
“Nay.” Shive shook her head weakly. “Tiernan told me the wedding was all his doing.”
“He looked as black as a thundercloud when he stood up from the table. You haven’t been goading him, have you, Shive? I know what you’re like when your pride has been stung.”
“I wasn’t goading him on purpose. We were merely setting down some basic rules for the marriage. Let’s just say that any discussion about Fiachra’s death is strictly forbidden,” Shive sighed.
Ruairi suddenly looked at her more closely, and raised a hand to her damp brow. “Shive, the sweat is pouring off you, and you’re as pale as death! Are you sure you’re all right?”
“The gown and headdress are very heavy, that’s all, and I’m sure I’ve eaten too much. I think I’ll just go back up to my chamber and refresh myself,” Shive said as she stood up.
Ruairi had to catch her about the waist to prevent her from falling, earning himself another dark scowl from Tiernan, who had been watching their exchange of words narrowly from across the room.
“No really, I’m all right, Ruairi,” Shive insisted as she motioned for her maid Mairead, who had been waiting attendance on her diligently nearby, to come with her.
“I want to go up to my chamber to wash and lie down for a little while, please. And could you bring me a beaker of milk to settle my stomach?” Shive requested once they were outside the great hall and in the cooler corridor.
“Of course, my lady.” Mairead smiled as she led her up to a bright, airy set of apartments with a massive cushiony featherbed and an exquisite counterpane embroidered with silk flowers.
“What a lovely room!” Shive exclaimed, though her head was pounding so badly she could almost see stars.
“It was the former mistress’ chamber. Sit down and rest yourself, my lady, while I get the milk,” Mairead said as she went out of the room.
Shive fell back upon the pillows, and was soon dozing fitfully.
A short time later, Shive heard a noise at the door. At last, she thought, Mairead has returned with the milk. But as the silence lengthened in the room she opened her violet eyes blearily. She tried to focus on the dark, scowling face of Tiernan as he towered over her and took hold of her shoulders.
“Are you drunk, my lady, or just acting in a high-handed manner, taking to your chamber when we have guests?” Tiernan demanded as he tugged her into a sitting position on the bed.
“Tiernan, I, my head, I--” Shive muttered groggily.
He was in no mood to listen to what he considered to be lame excuses. “I hope you haven’t been raised to go bed at the least little trifle, for you’ll get no sympathy from me if you want to act like a high and mighty princess,” Tiernan asserted as he began to pull Shive off the feather mattress.
Shive started to protest as Tiernan tugged at her. Her words were choked off as the bile rose in her throat. She just managed to break free from his imprisoning grasp in time. She ran to the corner and bent over, heaving the contents of her stomach into the chamber pot in the most violent manner.
Tiernan’s anger gave way to irritation then concern as he poured water in a basin by the bed and began to dab at her face with a cool damp cloth.
Shive tried to push him away, completely mortified at having him of all people see her like that. “Good lord, I feel so silly. It must be the wine and mead. I’m not used to it.”
Tiernan clung to her tightly as another violent attack of vomiting left her trembling like a newborn kitten. Afterwards he sat her down on the side of the bed and brought the commode closer to her.
She bent over double a third time, the pain such that she almost fainted dead away.
“'Tis naught to do with the drink, I’m sure,” Tiernan muttered as he held her spasm-wracked body tightly to him to prevent her from falling.
“I’ve sent Mairead off for some milk. I’ll be fine after I’ve drunk it,” Shive insisted between bouts of retching.
"You're not getting rid of me that easily, my dear."
"No, really, I--"
"Sush, now. Just relax."
She was mortified at the intimacy of his ministrations as Tiernan took advantage of a lull in her sickness to try to get her to bed.
He removed her headdress first, then her gown, causing her burgundy hair to tumble over her pale white shoulders in glorious disarray. Clad only in her thin linen undergown, she felt naked in the face of his piercing gaze. Tiernan whisked her under the covers, then held her shoulders firmly as she spewed into the chamber pot yet again.
Gasping for breath, Shive protested, “Really, Tiernan, the guests downstairs--”
“I shall send word to them that you are ill and I’m attending you as soon as the maid arrives. Calm yourself, Shive,” Tiernan soothed, stroking her bare arm comfortingly.
Shive’s tears began to flow. She wept over her illness, Tiernan’s unexpected tenderness, the fact that her sickness had ruined everything.
“You went to all this trouble to make sure everything was perfect, and I’ve spoiled it all,” Shive sobbed.
“Never mind, it’s not your fault. Rest now Shive,” Tiernan said, planting a kiss on her forehead as though she were a small child.
Shive’s head throbbed so badly she thought it would fall off her shoulders. A peculiar cold heaviness flooded her limbs, and she felt as though she were sinking down into some dark, cold abyss.
“Tiernan, where are you?” she called out into the darkness. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Never, I’ll never leave you,” a voice reassured her over and over again from a thousand miles away.
Chapter Five
For the next three days, Shive drifted in and out of consciousness, gripped by the strangest images amid the throes of her delirium.
At last, late in the afternoon on the fourth day after her wedding, Shive opened her eyes to see Tiernan sitting by her bedside. He looked drawn and haggard, with his hair and beard unkempt, and his linen shirt rumpled and stained as though he had not taken it off for days.
“Tiernan, you look awful,” Shive whispered through her parched lips.
To her surprise Tiernan began to laugh. She saw the tears spring to his eyes and stared.
“What’s so funny?” she rasped in a hurt tone, bringing her hand up to her throat to rub it.
“Nothing, my dear, nothing at all,” he said more seriously, hastily cuffing the dampness from his cheeks with the back of his hand.
Shive tried to sit up, but her head spun dizzily.
Tiernan’s arms were around her in an instant, helping her to sit up against the headboard while he arranged the bolster behind her more comfortably.
“What’s been happening?” Shive asked dazedly, trying to focus her eyes on the room, in obvious disarray, and then upon Tiernan’s dark blue gaze.
“You’ve been very ill, Shive. But it looks like you’re going to be fine now. Here, I need you to drink some of this milk. Perhaps you might manage some thin soup or porridge if your throat isn’t too raw?” He pressed the wooden tumbler into his hands with his warm hard fingers.
“It’s very sore,” she whispered, rubbing the tender spot again.
“I know. I’m sorry. You’ve been very sick. The pain will disappear in a few days. Here, drink now,” Tiernan urged, putting one arm around her bare shoulders while he held the cup to her lips.
“As soon as Mairead comes back we’ll tidy you up and get you mor
e comfortable. She’s down in the kitchen helping to fetch dinner for our remaining guests, but when she comes back, we can change the sheets, and you can have some soup.” Tiernan smiled as he watched her drain the cup.
Shive glanced down at herself when she had finished. She was mortified to discover that she was completely naked underneath the sheet, which was slipping precariously low down over her bosom.
She clutched a corner of it and tugged it up over herself hastily, but not quickly enough to stop Tiernan from noticing.
“I’m sorry, Shive, but, well, I had to take your dress off to get you more comfortable, and then your undergown became stained, so it seemed the best thing to do at the time,” Tiernan apologized hastily, looking away from her sharp violet glance.
The Hart and the Harp Page 6
