The Pledge

by Helen Mittermeyer

  She took a deep breath, smiling. “Since the weather is so fine ’twould be a shame to shut ourselves off from it.”

  Hugh watched her. That the lady had more on her mind than the weather was apparent. “That’s true.” Hugh gestured to some attendants, pointing to a trencher board.

  In minutes places were set, so that they might choose.

  Morrigan smiled at those around her, not recognizing any.

  Hugh watched her, sensing rather than seeing her agitation. No doubt her mind boiled with thoughts of her new husband. Mayhap she’d not looked forward to their mating and she’d counted on disliking him to bolster her for the night ahead. He smiled, fully intending to win her over. When she glanced at him, he grinned. She looked caught in a maelstrom, not like a blushing bride on her nuptial day.

  He watched her move farther and farther away from the castle. Did she think being out of doors kept her farther from the nuptial chamber? He excused himself and moved to her side. “Milady, I would not have our guests think you avoid me.”

  She stopped as though she’d struck a wall. “They must know I’m entranced to be in your company.”

  He laughed, then sobered, when he saw the flash of fear in her eyes. “If there is anything troublesome in your heart, milady, please tell me.” Her smile wobbled, making him more suspicious.

  “Would you not say we all have secrets, Milord MacKay? Sometimes a person dissembled not to hurt but to protect. Would you not agree?”

  Wariness filled him. “Have you something to tell me?”

  Her smile trembled. “Won’t we have many things to tell each other? This is the first day of our meeting, Milord MacKay.”

  “Has someone hurt you since your arrival, milady?” By her hesitation, he could almost believe it’d been something he’d done.

  “You are known to be a charmer, milord.”

  A jolt of happiness went through him. “Am I?”

  She nodded. “So I’ve heard. ’Twould not be wisdom to reveal all to you… lest you sink into ennui.”

  She was dissembling! Why? “True, there is the enticement of mystery,” he said, hoping to provoke more conversation. The sudden relief that crossed her face deepened his suspicion.

  “I’m glad you agree. We shall get to know each other in small ways. Our life shall not be throws of the dice. Besides, there are too many watching us. Today we’ll just enjoy the proceedings, if we can.” She seemed to sink into a reverie.

  “Milady?” Hugh bent over her, his mouth quirked in humor, keeping her words in his thoughts. There would be time when he would probe for the truth. For now they could take part in the fete.

  “What?”

  “We should follow the attendants so that our food is served to us at proper time.”

  “Oh.” She looked around her. “Yes. We must go.” She sighed. “There’s much to see in the castle and I would study it, but I’ll be happy to be in the fresh air.”

  “ ’Twould seem our monarch agrees. He approaches.”

  The bite of acid in his tone didn’t escape her. “He honors us with his presence.”

  “So he must think,” Hugh murmured, inclining his head to the king, then bending his gaze to her again. “So what can I choose for you as libation, milady?”

  Morrigan indicated the earthen jugs being passed around the table. “I would fancy the strawberry juice. And ’twould be grand to have it out here. I would visit with… our peoples.” She didn’t look at him when she spoke, but she heard the sighs around her, Hugh’s low chuckle, and the king’s answering one.

  “I think I should keep your wife with me. Her winning ways would bring me much,” Edward Baliol said to his now most powerful earl.

  “I thank the most gracious royal,” Morrigan said, bending in curtsy.

  Hugh watched her. “She has a way with her,” he murmured. Not to Edward, not to his nearest and dearest would he confess to being poleaxed by his bride. He wished king, pawn, and all attendants to perdition that he might bed the winsome Morrigan from Wales. She not only excited his sexual appetites, she teased his intellect as well. His wife seemed a most unusual woman. He wanted her.

  In his wildest dreams he’d not envisioned a woman such as this. He’d not wanted the marriage, but he’d been ready to marry anyone in order to regain his holdings. He’d not looked for a lovely visage, for sparkling green eyes, for a tall, strong body curved so sweetly. Beauty, wit, courage, canny understanding of the world where she had a special place, had not been how he’d envisioned her. He’d pictured a conniving Welsh woman who’d wormed her way into prominence with family and name. The knowledge that she’d broken the laws of the church by conceiving a child carried far less weight with him than that she was Welsh and came from a powerful family that had been inimical to his clan. It’d rubbed him raw that he’d had no choice but to obey the command or lose all.

  Now he cursed the stupidity that had kept him from finding out more about his intended. Either she was the greatest daughter of Janus, the god of acting, or she had a genuine beguiling sweetness to her. Under that he sensed a tensile strength.

  The threesome took seats and began to sample the myriad dishes rushed for their inspection.

  More than one approached the new Lady MacKay. Most were shy, wary, uncertain.

  It touched a core in Hugh when she seemed to exert the most effort with those filled with trepidation at meeting her.

  “What think you, Hugh? Did the council choose well?”

  Hugh nodded, loath to express his inmost feelings to anyone, and certainly not Edward Baliol. “She has a regal way about her.”

  Edward laughed. “God knows she should. Most would tell you she’s a direct descendant of Boudicca. That, I’m not sure I credit. She is related to one of the oldest names in Wales, and she comes by her royalty honestly.”

  Hugh smiled. “Whatever her blood, I think Morrigan would be royal.” Hugh was looking at his wife. He didn’t see the surprise that crossed the king’s features before they were swiftly schooled to blandness.

  “Then I think all the time it took to fashion this treaty was worth it,” Edward ventured.

  Hugh’s head whipped his way, his smile touched with vinegar. “Do you? That I was kept waiting for too many turns of the moon mightn’t have bothered you, your grace. It pricked at me mightily.”

  Edward crooked a brow, then sipped ale from his tankard. “I cannot be displeased at the outcome. Nor can you.”

  Hugh didn’t answer. His bile was rising as he recalled the long days that had brought him to this one.

  It’d taken almost a full turn of the sun to mortar the compact to everyone’s satisfaction. In those long weeks since the settlement he’d been in constant company of the king. What he’d wanted was to see to his people who’d been sorely pressed and depleted by the many conflicts engaged in by the clan. He’d taken no chance that something could go amiss, that all that belonged to Clan MacKay wouldn’t be returned to it. So he’d accompanied Edward everywhere, bartering any way and with anyone to reclaim his title and holdings.

  He’d given little thought to the bride, considering her a necessary factor to the negotiations, a pertinent anchor to his life in order to provide for his clan. Well worth the risk of vow taking to ensure the future for himself and fellow MacKays. He’d been a fool not to seek her out.

  He watched her magic touch with his people. The built-in suspicion of all MacKays for outsiders, after years of being proscribed, melted in the gentle onslaught of his spouse. Her very natural charm wooed and won all those with whom she conversed. It pleased him to see her unbend with his people.

  The king nudged him, gaining his attention. “Will you join us, Hugh? Some of the lords are gathering their lads for the games. Will you not toss the caber to impress your bride?”

  Hugh’s chuckle was dry. “Let the others test their mettle. I’ll be along to watch.”

  Edward’s glance skated between the Earl of MacKay and his lady. “You never cease surprising me
, my lord earl.”

  “ ’Tis my fondest hope,” Hugh retorted.

  Edward hesitated. “You do not ask for her brothers or cousins or about their absence at the nuptials.”

  “I assumed you would know and inform me. I have not missed them.”

  Edward’s lips lifted. “I was asked to represent the family since all were about on the business of their families.”

  “I’m sure,” Hugh said, irony in his tone.

  Edward nodded. “I thought the same, but my informants have told me they were indeed tending to their businesses that take them far and near. The oldest was in Afrique. The cousins were in Cornwall. The other brother was aboard a ship.”

  “Now I can be at peace,” Hugh responded in the same tone.

  Edward laughed and rose. “You are a suspicious man, Hugh. Remember the compact was drawn in a most rapid fashion. ’Twas your wish to bring it together quickly.”

  “So it was.” Hugh’s brow lifted.

  “You’re a rogue, MacKay.” The king tapped his arm. “Bring your lovely wife with you when next you come to Edinburgh.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Edward still chortled as he left with the others, but his eyes had narrowed on the powerful MacKay.

  Hugh was glad to throw aside the worries that had plagued him for months and just watch his wife gather an ever larger coterie of admirers around her. Though she seemed carefree, Hugh noticed she’d eaten little, that she’d barely touched her ale or wine. She had concerns, this wife of his. He would find out what they were, and he had a lifetime to do it.

  He pondered again that foolhardiness that had him ignoring her until their spousal day. Since it was not uncommon not to see a bride before wedding her, he’d just accepted what those around him had said. Welsh bitch had been how most had referred to her. That most of them had never met the woman consigned to an isolated corner of Wales had not weighed with him. What an ass he’d been not to check out what was fast becoming an important segment of his life. His wife. He’d not have been so careless choosing a destrier. Not since boyhood had he let another choose his mount, but he’d been lax about knowing more about his most important “mount.”

  Morrigan turned to look at him. “Why did you just laugh?”

  “You wouldn’t like what I was thinking.”

  “Oh?”

  What was she thinking? Would there ever be a time when she would probe his thoughts? Would she wonder what it would have been like to be wooed by such as he, without the trappings of treaties, compacts, debts of honor? Mayhap she thought him a womanizer. If she’d heard the women’s gossip she would.

  Now that she’d met him would she discount the gossip or put more credence to it? It annoyed him that he had an urge to explain.

  “Do tell me. I would be amused.”

  “What?” She sounded aloof. He sensed temper under the coolness. He applauded restraint, and self-control. It had carried him far. “Are you in bad tid, milady?” He used the Gaelic term for waspishness.

  She faced him, head up, eyes flashing. “Do you say that I ponder you with a host of loose women? That such would make my blood cook?”

  He bit back a laugh. “Nay, milady, I—”

  “Perhaps you think your profligate life would not matter to me until our vows were spoken. Be at peace, milord. I will not have you drawn and quartered.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Why do you elevate your brow? Do you not believe me?”

  “I do.”

  “Then contain your mirth and regale me with your tale.”

  A spitfire! Under all that smoothness and serenity was an unleashed wolf cub! He was delighted.

  “Your story, milord.” She moved back from the trencher board, rising, turning away from the guests to concentrate on her spouse.

  He stood as well. “All right.” He leaned down and whispered his thought about choosing a horse and a wife.

  When she turned that benign smile on him, wariness seized him. He backed a step just as she brought her knee up in a sharp, meaningful thrust.

  Few noticed the move. One who’d not taken eyes off the pair since the vow taking did. Keeping the smile in place to hide the hatred wasn’t easy, but observation provided more and more information. Mayhap this day the couple would be sped to Hades. But… if they lived there was another way to level the enemy. Divide and conquer, Caesar said. Wife and husband could make interesting adversaries. It could foment troubles for Wales and Scotland. The smile widened. Intrigue was delicious. The dispatching of foes was an even more delightful repast to ponder. Dishing up either wife or husband, or both, to torturers had the greatest appeal. Who first? Surely the least vulnerable would be the wisest. No sense setting up vigilance in one who battled well. Let the strongest go first. The gaze fixed on Hugh MacKay.

  “Very good,” Hugh said, leaning over her, his hands fitting around her waist. “Had I not moved you would’ve taken me to the healers instead of to our nuptial chamber.”

  “Release me.”

  “No, wife, I won’t.” He smiled down at her. “I told you what crossed my thoughts, sweet bride. How unkind to strike at me. I was only being truthful.” He grinned again. “How quick you were to retaliate. You’ll make an uncommonly good Scot.”

  “Do not downgrade a Welshwoman, sirrah.”

  He laughed. There was a melting in him when she joined him. He loved teasing her and for all her words, he knew she liked it. “You do not hate me, wife.”

  “No. Actually I would like to throw back my head and let levity take me as it does you.”

  Surprised, happy, he inched her closer. “Tell me you’re not insulted, but entertained.”

  She bit her lip. “I will admit I feel less threatened.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll take that. Worry not that you’ll lose your way on MacKay land.”

  “I must be alert… but this day had brought good feelings and I have enjoyed it.”

  His booming laugh echoed across the glen, bringing smiles, inquiring looks, some frowns. “I regret not meeting you and courting you as I could’ve done.” Despite the good feeling he’d caught the word “alert.” It stayed in his mind.

  Stunned, she could only stare. “You are uninhibited, Hugh MacKay.”

  “I am. I still am sorry we did not have a courting.” His laughing eyes probed hers. Tell me what keeps you wary despite your mirth, good wife, he said to himself.

  “Why is that?” Foolish question!

  His hands tightened at her waist. “Because you’re very beautiful. Because you have a great kindness. Because your laugh is like the sweetest honey.” He squeezed her waist just a bit. “You joust with me, your wits are quick, and you’re unafraid.”

  “I… I am glad you are pleased.”

  “I am.” His words had unsettled her. “You are a woman of many parts.” She was struggling for composure. She didn’t want to give in to him. He would get through the barrier she’d made.

  “I should think so. I’m Welsh.”

  “You create a heat, milady. I fear that all around us can see your deep beauty.”

  “You must unhand me, sirrah. ’Tis not circumspect.”

  “’Struth, ’Tis, for this day you’re my bride, my beauty. Have you forgotten so soon?” He lifted her higher, her feet leaving the ground, until he could look into her eyes. He’d never seen such womanliness. Yet there was iron in her, mayhap embedded so deeply she’d not shown it to many. He wanted to see it all, to know all about his intriguing, bewitching bride. “Though you have the courage of a warrior, you have the loveliness of the most beauteous of women. That pleases me.” When he saw how her eyes widened in surprise, how they searched his for the lie, he wanted to laugh. Little conceit had his wife. An amalgam of loveliness and goodness. No wonder other men had wooed her, had fought her betrothal to a MacKay. What had been the name? Tarquin of Cardiff. He’d remember it. Had he been the one who’d given her a son? Was he the one who’d known the delight of piercing her maiden’s veil?
He was furious at the thought. A raging jealousy shook him that was most difficult to bury before reason calmed him. She was his now. No other man would get close to her. He smiled.

  “What?”

  “I think on your virtues, good wife.”

  “Virtues?”

  He chuckled when suspicion crossed her face. “Shall I list them?”

  “You might have to, Hugh MacKay. But first you must put me down for we draw eyes to us.”

  “No matter. ’Tis our spousal day. Let them look. Shall I tell you?”

  “Pardon my interruption.”

  “I do.” He grinned when she looked chagrined. “Let me see. When you should’ve been preening from the adulation shown you in all your wedding finery, you stopped and assured two children they would always have a home with us, and then claimed them as ours. You have passion and caring, love. I like that.”

  “How do you know for sure?” she blurted.

  Her blush told him she was referring to the night ahead and he laughed again.

  He had to be careful of her magnetism. She could make him let down his guard. As keeper of the vast estates belonging to MacKay he had to be wary of any and all. Lusting after her didn’t mean she had his full trust. There were few, whether they be Welsh, Anglos, or even Scots outside his clan, who did.

  He couldn’t deny the wanting. It had grown into a seething sea that he could’ve drowned in if it weren’t for the damnable guests. He pictured her under his tartan, with nothing but her bare skin touching his. His blood cascaded to his lower body, hardening it. He hadn’t been so aroused so quickly, so fully, in memory. Aye! It would be a monumental task to keep his spouse in proper perspective. She had the visage of an angel. He shouldn’t allow himself to think she was one. She netted him with her look. Though caution told him to glance away, he was loath to break the moment. Rather he would stay buried in her eyes.