by Raina Wilde
The meal was pleasant enough until there began the inevitable series of lewd jokes about their supposed wedding night activities. Deirdre shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the teasing turned toward the lack of proof that the couple had actively consummated their vows. Knowing the shame that could follow a man who failed to bed his bride, for the first time Deirdre felt guilty at her cold-shouldered approach to their marriage. Not, she reminded herself, that she would have done anything differently. Only, that she wished the pressing men were not so observant or persistent.
“Your sister and the Lady’s brother were hard pressed to wait for the celebration to be complete before running off to their own wedding chamber.” One red-bearded man laughed. “If I were a betting man, and I am, I’d say the silence in your chambers was quite telling.” He winked in a way that made Deirdre wonder if the statement was made in fun, or as a threat.
“You can pay me my winnings in a few months when you can see the proof otherwise.” Teirnan laughed convincingly as if he thought the entire conversation a lark.
Deirdre wondered how Teirnan would explain it when the months passed and she remained without child. A brief image of a bairn with raven black hair and Teirnan’s deep blue eyes flashed in the back of her mind. Deirdre had often longed for a child of her own, especially after seeing Greum and Cat with their happy brood. She wondered if she could bring herself to lay with her husband for the sake of a child, but she doubted that the emotional turmoil of their joining would be something that she could willingly experience again.
She must have been distracted in her musings because she was startled to hear an old woman speak from the crowd.
“We can settle this now.” The crone spoke. “I served as handmaid in the lady’s preparations for the ceremony.”
Deirdre squinted at the woman seated three tables away. She had no recollection of the woman, or even of her bridal preparations. She had a vague memory of bathing the previous morning but other than that a majority of the wedding day was a hazy blackness in her memory.
“Where, Laird Teirnan, is there a distinctive mark on her body and what does its shape appear to be?”
Deirdre’s mind searched for an excuse… the darkness of the room? The coverage of the linens? The shy nature of a virgin bride?
Before she could formulate and answer, Teirnan’s hand came to rest on her ribcage, just below her left breast.
“It lay here,” He stated matter-of-factly, “and its shape is that of the head of a bear.”
Her eyes jumped to his, shocked that he had such an accurate memory of her body. For a long moment they stared at each other, oblivious to the watching crowd. She could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric of her gown and was thankful that the blush she could feel covering her skin would be interpreted only as a shy reaction to the intimate knowledge.
Each breath she took pressed her body against his palm. Deirdre’s heart drummed with a deafening rhythm in her ears. Still, Teirnan removed neither his hand nor his gaze.
“Yes. Yes.” The woman clapped with joy as the crowd hummed excitedly around her. “She has the mark of the bear like her mother before her! Her sons will be worthy of legend and her daughters give birth to the fiercest of warriors. Let us drink to the present and future bonnet lairds Laramie.”
With that the crowd returned happily to their meals. For the briefest moment Deirdre thought that she felt Teirnan’s thumb brush back and forth against her rib but the touch was so fleeting that when he withdrew his hand she thought that it might have been imagined.
For the following fortnight, Deirdre and Teirnan both adhered to the unspoken agreement to stay as far away from each other as possible, except at meals when they playacted a happy couple. This was easier than expected because Teirnan found himself extremely busy with his newly acquired management of the estate.
Every tenant, farmer, and banner man called upon the estate to greet their new laird. While Teirnan was busy with formalities, Deirdre spent her time acquainting herself with the daily duties as mistress of the household.
She was relieved to see, upon her inspection of the serving maids, that a particular scullery maid from her previous visits was no longer employed on premises.
Deirdre could not have said how she might have reacted to the girl who had been the cause of the feud between she and Teirnan, but was glad that the issue was now irrelevant.
She recalled sneaking away to meet with Teirnan at their secret cave on the far edge of the estate only to find the fire-haired scullery maid sitting inside waiting for the same boy to visit. The maid had laughed at Deirdre’s naiveté, her assumption that she had been Teirnan’s only love. Assuring her that there were a handful of girls who visited the cave regularly, Deirdre had run from the location in tears and demanded that she return to Castle MacConaill the following day.
The most agonizing part of the tale was that there had been no attempt to speak of the indiscretions between the pair. The following morning, Teirnan had entered the great hall with steely eyes and anger of his own. He had made a vague comment about being glad that she was leaving before storming from the hall, much to the shock of his family. From that moment on they had been the fiercest of enemies, and now they were husband and wife.
On one cool, grey highland morning they received news that a small farmhouse on the edge of the lands had caught fire in the night, leaving a family of seven without a roof over their heads. Teirnan and his men began to prepare their horses for the journey, taking all of the necessary tools and goods to rebuild the home.
For the first time Deirdre ran to her husband and laid a hand on his arm, meeting his eyes and forcing him to look at her.
“Let me go.” She implored. “Please, Teirnan. Let me help the wife and bairns while you men build the house.”
Teirnan gave her a wary look but did not respond immediately. No other women would be travelling with them and it was clear that he was not keen on the idea of her addition to the party.
“I’ve been through the items. We have more blankets and linens than we will ever need. There are enough buckets and washrags to run ten households, and they won’t need much at all. Please, Teirnan.” She pulled both of his hands into her own and clutched them to her heart. “Please. At the castle I was in charge of taking care of the needy. Please let me go.”
He must have heard the desperation in her voice, the need to help, and perhaps also to escape her own life if only for a short time.
When he nodded she reached up and placed a happy kiss on his cheek. Before she had a chance to register his shocked expression she had turned around and raced inside to collect what she needed.
The journey there was uneventful. Three day’s ride to the edge of the MacConaill lands was slow with the wagons full of building supplies and household items. The return journey would be much less tedious, taking just over half the amount of time as the first journey.
At night, Teirnan, and the other men, took turns morphing into their bear forms and running patrols around the campsites. This left Deirdre to sleep alone amongst the linens in the central wagon. Though there had not been a repeat of their first morning together, Deirdre found herself struggling to sleep without her husband. She had become accustomed to the gentle rhythm of Teirnan’s breathing and, though they made an effort to never touch, had enjoyed the intense heat that radiated from his nearby body.
The situation did not improve when they reached the small farm. Two large tents had been erected, one for the women and children, and one for the men. After three more nights being kicked and crawled over by four small children, Deirdre developed a slow appreciation for the simplicity of sharing a bed with only one person.
The men worked tirelessly to rebuild the farmhouse and stable while Deirdre and the children rounded up what wandering animals they could find. She was grateful for the surplus of children that kept her occupied throughout the day and the many projects that she and their mother completed in preparation for the new ho
me. On the rare moments of silence and inactivity she found her gaze drifting over to the hard working men, one in particular.
She had always known that Teirnan would make an excellent leader of men. He had always been one to throw himself into hard work and come to the aid of others. It had been one of their many shared traits, during that summer of romance. Deirdre was not surprised to see the respect and appreciation shown for the man who could easily have sent others to complete the task in his stead.
As the days passed, Teirnan’s angular muscles grew tanned in the light of the highland sun. He, like the other men, had chosen to complete the task wearing only his heavy kilt. While Deirdre had seen many male chests in her time, and though there were at least a dozen circling around her at any point in the day, she found her husband’s tall but lean frame singularly distracting.
At night she was plagued with longing to be near him, only to admonish herself for her foolhardy fantasies in the light of day.
Whether or not he was aware, she watched him. After a day of back breaking work, he made time to speak with the farmer about the future of the land, give advice to the young boys as the struggled to control their shifting, as Teirnan once had, and even to promise an additional shipment of supplies from the estate to help the family get through the harsh winter months. Despite her personal feelings for her husband, Deirdre could not deny that Teirnan was a partner to be proud of. Though she tried to hang on to her bitterness she found herself remembering the reasons that she had loved him in the first place.
When the home was completed, and the party on its way, Deirdre found herself reluctant to return to her isolated existence at the Laramie estate. Teirnan, as laird, would be able to inform her of other families who were in need of aide, if she could put her pride aside and speak with him on a regular basis.
With a new resolution in her heart, Deirdre decided to find her own purpose in her new life. She might not have the best marriage, but she could at least fulfill her role as Lady to the tenants of the Laramie lands.
As night fell on the final night of their journey, Deirdre had just settled down beside the fire with a steaming bowl of rabbit stew when she heard the most voracious roar a good distance into the forest. Instantly, the mend around her tensed. Two more growls, distinctly that of a bear, broke the silence of the night and the men around her began to hastily disrobe and run off toward the call.
She grabbed the shirt of a man running past her and forced him to look at her.
“What does three mean?” she demanded. Knowing full well that the men had codes for different levels of danger.
“McKinnons.” He tore himself away from her grasp and rushed into the woods, pulling his shirt over his head as he ran.
Deirdre looked around. Only four men, still in human form, remained at the camp. Their swords were drawn but she could see that they wanted nothing more than to follow their friends.
Suddenly, Teirnan was in front of her. He was breathing loudly, as if he has just run a great distance. His hands settled on her shoulders and he shook her slightly when she failed to focus on his words.
“Stay here.” His eyes were serious.
“Take the men.” She whispered. Understanding that the four men left behind were set to guard her. Her heart sank with the knowledge that the precaution would not have been necessary if they had traveled without her female presence, as initially intended. For a brief moment she wished that she were a skilled huntress, like Skye.
“No.” He shook his head and nodded toward the fire, which had been doused but was still smoking. “They’ll follow it.”
Deirdre reached into the satchel beside her and pulled out a lethal looking dagger, still sheathed in leather.
“Which way?” She asked.
Teirnan shook his head again. He knew that she was offering to run for cover in the opposite direction, allowing all of the men to participate in the battle. “I can’t guarantee that they haven’t circled us.”
She clutched the front of his shirt with steely resolve, the dagger in her hand resting parallel to his chest, nonthreatening. “Which way, Teirnan?”
Another roar rose through the forest, and Teirnan wave the four remaining men away. Without bothering to disrobe, they transformed before her eyes, great beasts that lumbered into the brush with surprising speed and agility.
His hands settled on her shoulders once more and Teirnan released a deep sigh.
“Behind you.” He whispered, jerking his head in the directed that would lead away from the fight. “Run as far as you can and then hide. Don’t reveal yourself to anyone.”
Deirdre nodded. “You’ll find me?”
“I promise.” In an instant he was gone and Deirdre was left alone clutching a dagger and standing beside the great smoking beacon.
“He’ll find me.” She told herself, remembering a game she and Teirnan used to play where he would track her scent to obscure parts of the forest. With a deep breath she turned and raced into the forest.
Deirdre struggled through the underbrush of the dark forest. At one point she tripped over a fallen log, tearing her skirts and skinning the palms of her hands. Still she pressed on, faster and faster until the ache in her side made her gasp for breath.
She searched for a hiding place in this unfamiliar part of the forest. There were no caves, or crevices that provided complete coverage. She searched for another hour, continuing further from the campsite, but moving at a slower pace now. Finally, she found a hollow at the base of a tree that was just large enough for her to crawl inside if she pulled her knees to her chest.
Tucking her torn skirts around her for warmth, she rested her head against the wood and settled in to wait.
The time passed like the slow drip of water from a leaky basin. The sliver of a moon continued to hang high in the night sky, limiting the frightened woman’s range of vision. As a result, each crack of a limb, or rustle of leaves caused Deirdre to sit at attention, trying to interpret the sounds around her.
She began to hear the distinct sound of something padding around in circles. Could it be Teirnan? She wondered. A part of her wanted to call out his name and reveal her location, but then she remembered his words. She also remembered that, even if the noise was not made by a human, Skye and Cat had both recently had encounters with an aggressive pack of wolves.
The sound grew closer and closer until it stopped suddenly. Deirdre held her breath as she listened with rapt attention. All was silent.
With slow movements, careful not to make a noise, she leaned forward to get a better look outside of her hideout. She turned her head to the side and came nose to nose with an enormous bear with some sort of limp creature hanging from its jaws.
With a scream she vaulted back into the hole, while the bear jumped back as if branded. It had dropped its mouthful at her feet, when it too had been startled by her sudden appearance.
Deirdre squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the form on the ground.
A grunt and a sigh sounded outside of the tree.
“Toss me my kilt, Deirdre.” Teirnan’s voice sounded tired. She picked up what she now saw as a bundle of fabric and flung it in the direction of his voice. After a few moments of rustling, Teirnan crouched at the entrance of the hole and peered in at her cramped form. “Did you have to jump out at me like that?”
“I’m sorry.” She grimaced.
Teirnan thrust his hand toward her and, when she grasped it with her own, pulled her out into the cool night air.
“How did you find that?” He examined the small space now that it was empty.
Deirdre shrugged.
He released a short breath, “Will you help me gather wood for a fire?” He had already turned away and started gathering kindling by the time she responded.
“Are we not going back to the camp?” she asked, confused.
“No. They packed up… heading back to the estate.” He snapped a large branch in two. “It’s too dark for us to travel without the lante
rns so I told them to head on without us.”
“Why aren’t they staying at the camp? Is someone hurt?” She was not even helping him, merely following him around asking questions as he gathered what was needed for a fire. He did not seem to mind.
“Bertham lost an ear and Hammond took a sword through the leg. If they get him to the surgeon in time they might be able to save the limb.”
“And… everyone else?” she asked, her eyes raking over him in search of injuries.
“All fine. The McKinnons are a persistent bunch but they aren’t the most skilled of warriors, especially when matched against a nine foot bear.” He chuckled to himself as he formed the supplies into a pile and pulled a striker from his sporran.
As the flames flickered to life and illuminated his face, Deirdre felt certain for the first time that he was unharmed. A cool highland breeze blew through the trees and she stepped closer to the growing warmth of the fire. Teirnan stood and gestured for her to come closer.
“Come warm yourself,” he threw an arm over her shoulder as the both stared into the flames. “It’s been a long night for both of us.”
Surprisingly, Deirdre did not feel uncomfortable with the action. Somehow, the companionable gesture suited the moment as the pair stood alone in the woods preparing to face the night ahead. Her eyes began to grow heavy and she allowed her head to drop against his shoulder, the details of the fire blurring as her vision glazed with exhaustion.
They stood there for a long moment, until Teirnan dropped his chin atop her head. In an instant, the air felt thick and Deirdre was no longer tired. She had to fight the instinct of her arms to wrap around his waist and hold him against her. At the same time as she resisted, she felt the urgent need for stability, as if without his strength she would be unable to stand at all.
With a huff she gave in to the action, linking her hands around him and allowing herself to lean into his embrace.
