Aggie had hoped her heart would feel lighter if she prayed, but she found no comfort, no solace, only a heavy heart and tear filled eyes. Resting her head on her folded hands, she continued to beg and plead with God to protect Ailrig.
Please, Father, I ain’t askin’ fer me, but fer Ailrig. He’s just a boy. He’s never harmed anyone, has never asked fer anything other—
Aggie was shaken from her prayer when she felt a hand rest gently on her shoulder. Startled, she spun and shot to her feet, bracing herself, certain that it was her father standing behind her. Relief washed over her when she saw it was the priest Frederick had brought with him to perform the ceremony on the morrow.
“I be sorry, lass,” the priest said softly. “I didna mean to startle ye.” He stood a head taller than Aggie, which made him shorter than many men she knew. Offering her an encouraging smile, he tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe.
Aggie rested a hand on her chest as if it might help to still her pounding heart. She gave a slight shake of her head as if to tell the priest he needn’t worry. She gave him as warm a smile as she could manage before she made an attempt to leave.
The priest rested a large hand on her arm and returned her smile. “Ye needn’t leave, lass. I only wanted to ask if ye’d like me to pray with ye.”
Aggie gave a slight shake of her head. No amount of prayer can help me and I’ve spent too long here, she thought. I need to return to the keep.
“I ken that ye canna speak, lass,” the auld priest spoke slowly and carefully. “But know that God can hear ye, even if ye canna utter a word.”
So ye say, Father, but somehow, I’m not so certain. She gave another nod and tried to step away, but the priest would not relinquish his gentle hold on her arm.
“Lass, did ye come here with worry over whether or no’ ye’ll be a good wife?”
Bah! She had no true desire to lie to the priest, especially in the Lord’s house. But there was no way for her to explain the true reasons why she was here. Even if she could, there was nothing the priest could do. Not wanting to risk her father finding out she had left her room, she gave the priest another nod of her head and tried again to leave.
“I thought as much,” he said. “’Tis a typical worry of all young lasses!” He gave a slight chuckle. “I do no’ think ye need to worry, lass. Ye’ll find Frederick Mackintosh is a good man. I’ve known him for many years. He’ll be kind and patient with ye. He’ll be good to ye, lass.”
I do no’ believe there’ll be time fer patience or kindness, Father. Once he learns what he’s really getting in this bargain, it will no longer matter.
Aggie smiled up at the priest, nodded her head and shook her arm free of his hand. She hadn’t taken two steps away from the priest when the door to the chapel flew open. Her heart leapt to her throat and her legs shook when she looked up to see her father standing there.
“Damn ye, Aggie!” Mermadak yelled. “I thought I told ye to stay to yer room?”
Aggie took a step back and ran into the priest. She felt his hand rest on her shoulder.
Mermadak stomped toward her, eying the priest as he made his way down the aisle. “What goes on here?” he demanded.
“Mermadak,” the priest said, his voice firm. “Yer daughter came to pray. Many lasses find comfort in prayer before their weddin’ day.”
“Bah!” Mermadak said as he stood before Aggie and the priest. “God canna hear the likes of her, Father. She canna speak, ye ken.”
The priest stiffened as Aggie prayed fervently. Please, God, do no’ let him start hittin’ me now.
“God hears the silent as much as he hears the more vociferous of his children, Mermadak,” the priest said in a firm voice.
Mermadak shook his head and grabbed Aggie by the arm and began pulling her away from the priest.
“Mermadak, the lass is simply afraid. I believe she worries what kind of wife she’ll be to Frederick!” the priest called after them. Mermadak ignored the man as he pulled Aggie down the aisle.
Once they were out of the chapel, Mermadak spun her around to face him. “Is the priest right? Do ye worry over what kind of wife ye’ll make?”
Aggie was terrified when she looked into her father’s angry eyes. She nodded her head rapidly and swallowed hard.
Mermadak threw his head back and laughed for a moment before stopping and grabbing both of Aggie’s arms.
“Hear me and hear me well, ye eejit!” his voice was low, seething with disdain and anger. “All ye need to ken is to keep yer bloody mouth shut and yer legs open! That’s all ye need to do to be a wife!”
Aggie swallowed down the bile and fear and cast her eyes to the ground. Mermadak gave her a shove toward the keep. “Get to yer room, now. I swear, if I find ye out of if again yer husband will have to mount ye from behind, fer ye’ll no’ be able to lie on yer back fer a week!”
Her eyes filled with tears as she ran as fast as she could back to the keep and up to her room. Mermadak never made idle threats. Other than the keep catching on fire, there was nothing that would pull her from her room again until it was time to go to the chapel.
AGGIE BRUSHED HER fingers over the fine blue fabric and wished there was a way she could look at her reflection. There was no time to run to the loch to grab a glimpse and thought, mayhap, that was probably for the best.
The dress was too big, she didn’t need anyone to tell her that. Rose did her best to make adjustments where she could, tucking and folding and tugging the dress at every available spot.
Had Clair owned any decency, she would have at least allowed for a few temporary stitches. Rose had gathered up the sleeves and wrapped bits of white cloth around Aggie’s upper arms to keep the sleeves up. She tied the bodice as tightly as she could, tucking in and folding over the fabric, doing her best to hide the fact that it had been made for a woman with a much larger bosom.
The bodice gaped more than was decent or appropriate. If Aggie were to bend just the tiniest little bit, her chest would be bared for all to see. She’d do her best to remain standing ramrod straight at all times.
She had very few choices. Either wear the borrowed gown or go to her wedding wearing her old and worn green or brown dress. Aggie had no desire to go to the altar wearing a dress that had been patched and mended far too many times to count.
In the end, Aggie resembled a wee lass playing dress up in her mum’s clothes. Still, the blue dress was by far the prettiest gown Aggie had ever worn. She ran her fingers down the soft fabric again, enjoying the luxurious way it felt against her skin.
When she was younger, before the darkness shrouded her life, she had always imagined wearing a beautiful yellow gown, one the color of buttercups, on her wedding day. She would weave flowers and gems through her long black hair and dainty slippers would adorn her feet. Aggie sighed softly at the memory she thought she had buried with all her other hopes and dreams and pushed the thought away. Now is no’ the time to grow sentimental and soft. Ye’ve a long day ahead of ye, Aggie McLaren. Ye need to keep yer wits about ye if ye want to survive it.
Even though she knew the marriage wouldn’t last more than a few short hours, something deep inside begged for just a moment in time where she would feel pretty. In the end, she supposed it simply did not matter. Once Frederick Mackintosh learned how defective and damaged she was. Still, she found herself wanting to pretend, just for a little while, that she was a blushing bride, full of hope and wonder.
“Frederick’s brother, Ian, gave me a length of Mackintosh plaid fer ye, Aggie,” Rose said as she carefully grabbed the long length of fabric from the small table in the corner. “I think ‘twould be a good gesture on our part if ye wore it.”
Aggie swallowed hard, unable to quash the fluttering in her stomach. She offered a nod and a smile and held her arms out while Rose carefully draped the fabric over Aggie’s shoulder.
“This broach was me mum’s,” Rose said as she pinned the plaid into place. “I’ve had it hidden from yer da�
�s greedy eyes fer more than five years, ye ken.”
Aggie glanced down at the simple silver broach and smiled. Aye, if Da had seen this, he’d have stolen it and sold it. ’Twas right of Rose to hide it. She looked at Rose with raised brows, as if to ask if she was certain she wanted to loan her such a precious piece of jewelry.
“Do no’ worry it, Aggie. Mermadak will no’ be so stupid this day as to try and take it. I’ll get it as soon as the ceremony is over.”
Aggie nodded and smiled again. Her nerves were as tangled as bramble bushes. Och! How I wish I could have talked with Frederick before things had gone this far! Had she been less of a coward, she would have snuck out of her room last night and made an attempt to have him break the troth. As it was, the halls were filled with her father’s men and no opportunity to leave had presented itself.
“I ken this no’ be a verra proper veil, Aggie,” Rose said as she draped a length of fabric over Aggie’s raven hair. “But ’twas the best I could do under the circumstances.”
Aggie touched the edge of the veil with her fingertips and cast a curious glance at Rose.
“Aye,” Rose said as she puffed out her cheeks. “’Tis a sheet, but do no’ worry it, I’ve a pretty bit of fabric to drape over it.”
Rose lifted a fine piece of blue fabric from the edge of the bed and held it up for Aggie’s inspection. ‘Twasn’t fine silk, but it was beautiful and Aggie instantly recognized Rose’s handiwork. Intricate and beautiful stitches adorned the edges with vines and little roses. In the center of the piece were two clasped hands surrounded by more vines and roses.
“No’ me best work,” Rose said as she took the fabric from Aggie’s hands. “But ’twas the best I could do on such short notice.”
Even with all the time in the world, Aggie would never have been able to replicate such fine work. Her needlework, to say the least, was limited to hemming and patching. She had neither the time nor the skill to create the beautiful things Rose created.
Rose next grabbed a length of silver cording from the bed. At first, Aggie thought Rose would tie the silver girdle around her waist. Instead, she tied it around Aggie’s head. “’Tis all I have to keep the veil on,” Rose explained. “I’m afraid I sent me crowns and circlets to the blacksmith to add more gems.”
Aggie giggled at Rose’s jest. The McLaren’s barely had enough food to eat, let alone expensive and fancy jewelry. Aggie hoped she did not look quite as ridiculous as she felt.
As Rose was fussing with the hem of the dress, the door to her room burst open. Mermadak stood there, his wheezing sounding much worse this day. He took one look at Aggie and his scowl darkened.
“What the bloody hell are ye doin’ wearing Mackintosh plaid?” he demanded.
Rose stepped between Aggie and Mermadak. “I thought ‘twould be a nice gesture if she wore the Mackintosh colors this day, Mermadak.”
“No one here asked ye to think!” Mermadak spat. “He’s joinin’ the McLaren Clan this day, no’ the other way ‘round. Take it off and put on McLaren colors!” He barked his last command at Aggie. She startled, only briefly, before trembling fingers began to fumble with the broach.
“I’ll be waitin’ fer ye below stairs. Do no’ tarry this day, woman!” He turned and stomped out of the room.
Rose rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I do no’ understand how ye come from that man’s loins!” she cursed. “’Tis yer mum ye take after, let there be no doubt.”
Aggie’s heart fell when Mermadak shouted his command. If this marriage lasted beyond a few hours, the last thing she wanted was for Frederick to become a McLaren. There be enough of the sorry fools as it is, she mused.
A sudden thought popped into her mind and it startled her. Aggie was never defiant when it came to her father. From some deep recess of her heart, she found something that reminded her faintly of strength and she made a decision.
Aye, I’ll wear the bloody McLaren plaid, but I’ll be wearing Mackintosh plaid too!
FREDERICK STOOD NERVOUSLY at the front of the kirk with Ian and Findal standing next to him. Opposite them stood the young woman, Rose. Frederick had learned earlier from Ailrig that Rose was the only friend Aggie had. When he offered the pretty woman a smile, she immediately looked away. He found it odd, but then, most everyone he’d met thus far was odd.
The more time he spent with these people of the Clan McLaren the more odd each of them appeared. Everyone seemed apprehensive and wary whenever he tried to interact with them, all save for Clair. Of all the people he’d met thus far, she seemed the only one not afraid of Frederick and his men.
His nervousness over his wedding day was secondary to the irritation he felt at Aggie’s refusal to meet with him. Twice yesterday, he had sent messages to her, using Clair as a go between, begging an audience and twice, she refused. Doubts arose with each refusal. Mayhap Aggie was not as agreeable to this marriage as she had said that day at Graham keep.
Of course, she hadn’t really said anything. Just a wary nod of her head. No smile, no wink, nothing that would give him some indication as to how she truly felt about this union. But what could he expect from a lass who could not speak?
He knew this was not going to be an easy marriage, at least not in the beginning. Mayhap the lass was just afraid and who could blame her? With no apparent way of communicating with anyone, he supposed he too, would be fearful if he were her.
When he thought of Mermadak and his harsh treatment of Aggie, it made Frederick’s blood boil. He took a deep steadying breath as Ian gave him a reassuring pat on the back. I’ll find a way to communicate with her if ’tis the last thing I do, he promised himself. He’d show her kindness and gentleness, far more than her father ever did. He’d woo her with tender kisses and soft caresses. If they could not communicate with words, they’d communicate through touch and intimacy. That was, he supposed, the deepest form of communication.
The more he thought on it, the more hopeful he became. Aye, it would take some time and much work, but he felt certain once he began smothering her with affection, she’d come to him willingly and together, they would find a way to make their marriage work.
Frederick turned his head and smiled at his brother. ’Tis nerves, he told himself. The lass could have said nay at any time. She’s probably just as nervous as I and that it why she refused to see me. I really canna say I can blame her, the poor, shy timid thing that she is.
The priest looked up from the dais and toward the back of the kirk. He raised his hands and the people gathered stood to look at the bride as she entered on her father’s arm. Frederick took a deep breath before turning to watch his bonny bride walk down the aisle.
One look was all he needed to realize his bride was not so shy or timid. Her appearance said more than words ever could.
The all too big dress, synched at the waist and sleeves with bits of white cloth was, to say the least, an abomination. And her veil? It looked like a sheet that had been stripped from a bed and tied around her head with a cord, more likely than not, taken from a set of draperies.
Nay, she couldn’t protest with words, but she could with action. Her ludicrous attire said it all. She did not want to be here and did not want this union.
Frederick tamped down the anger and glared at her, though it did little good. Her eyes were glued to her feet as she walked down the aisle without so much as giving him a cursory glance. With her head down and sagging shoulders, she much resembled a woman heading to the gallows instead of a woman heading to the altar. Mayhap she felt there was no difference between the two.
Frederick heard Ian clear his throat nervously and assumed he was thinking the same thing. So be it, lass, Frederick thought. Ye may think ye can protest our wedding by showing up looking like that, but the only one ye make a fool of is yerself.
He would not fall prey to whatever game it was she thought she was playing. He decided he would pretend not to notice how utterly ridiculous she looked.
Mermadak took Aggie’s hand
and placed it in Frederick’s and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “She be yer problem now,” Mermadak said with a chuckle.
Frederick felt Aggie shrink beside him. He watched as her face burned crimson and felt her fingers tremble in his hands.
He found it difficult to feel sorry for her considering the way she looked. A voice in the back of his mind warned him to be patient and understanding. That was not going to be easy.
“Do ye both come here of yer own free will?” The priest asked.
“Aye, I do,” Frederick said in a firm voice.
The priest cleared his throat and looked down at Aggie. “Lass, I ken ye canna speak, so ye can either nod yer head aye, or nay.”
Aggie gave a slow nod of affirmation which made the priest smiled. Frederick wished he could find the same type of fondness for his bride as the priest apparently held. He was simply too upset to garner any sympathy for her. Later, after the ceremony and the feast, he’d tell her exactly what he thought of her wedding attire.
After a prayer and a blessing, it came time for the vows. Frederick used his firmest voice to repeat his promise to love, honor and protect his bride. Aggie, of course, could not repeat the vows. Instead, she nodded her head “aye” when the priest asked if she was prepared to promise the same to Frederick.
Another prayer and Frederick placed a tiny gold band on his bride’s trembling fingers. She had yet to look at him and it made him all the more angry.
“Ye may kiss yer bride now,” the priest said as he smiled at the two of them.
Frederick's Queen: The Clan Graham Series Page 6
