The Pledge

by Helen Mittermeyer

  Hugh had moved up to the gathering, afoot. Many had noticed him, though he’d spoken to no one nor taken his eyes off his wife.

  “Papa!” Rhys’s voice caroled through the cheers.

  Hugh nodded to the three children who raced to him. He leaned over them, kissing each one on the top of the head. “Shh. We must watch maman and learn.”

  “You’re talking through your teeth,” Rhys said, in his matter-of-fact way. “Maman would tell you it will ruin them.”

  “Would she?” Hugh ignored the titters circling near him, moving around the children and getting himself into position to interfere. Enough of this! His wife instructing the entire clan in manus a manis? Under his ire was a burning pride in her agility, her almost careless handling of the weapon. She’d been taught well.

  Just as he was about to call a halt, he saw her gather herself and move under Urdred’s guard. Fury and fear nearly made him bite through his tongue. She was going to try to tumble Urdred, a most capable wrestler.

  Morrigan counted to five, then swung her body inside, seeing by Urdred’s widened gaze that he hadn’t expected it, that his counteracting would come too late. She grabbed for his digits, twisting, turning, thrusting her body under his. She put every bit of power she had into the move, knowing full well she’d never tumbled anyone so large as Urdred.

  With an unholy yowl Urdred spun, his toes pointing downward until they left the ground. His body spun high for an instant, then he crashed to the ground on his back with a huge whoosh of air, his own strength and momentum delivering the force.

  The silence in the glen was total for several pulse beats. Then the roar began, growing like the thunder of the sea wind in a wild storm. MacKays jumped up and down, pummeling one another. Even the losers in the many wagers grinned, paid up, and shook their heads.

  Rhys and the twins yelled and screamed, delighted with the event though they weren’t quite sure what had happened. Had their mother bested Urdred, the grand warrior? It could not be. Yet it seemed so.

  Hugh shook off Toric’s restraining hand, not sharing his laughter.

  “Hugh! Come back. She’s won the day. She deserves the accolades.”

  Hugh ground to a stop, glaring at his cousin over his shoulder. “She’s been very ill. Do you think this could be good for her?”

  Toric laughed. “Ask Urdred, cousin.”

  “Hush your whisht,” Hugh growled in Gaelic.

  Toric laughed all the harder.

  A dazed but grinning Urdred looked up at Lady MacKay, shaking his head, his eyes glinting with admiration. “You would teach me thus?”

  Morrigan nodded. “I would.”

  Urdred’s mirth burst forth. “Methinks I’d be invincible.”

  “No doubt.” Morrigan laughed with him.

  “Milady, you are…” His voice faded. He looked past her, his smile going sour.

  Morrigan knew without looking who was coming. Little by little talk ceased, mutterings grew. Hilarity was smothered by excited whispers. She turned, her chin up. “I’ll not let you blame Urdred, a most fine warrior,” she told Hugh. “He’s a most valiant MacKay, and I shall show him the way of tossing that we do in Wales.”

  “Brought to you by the Vikings,” Hugh murmured.

  “Mostly by the Celts if truth be told.”

  “Are you all right?”

  Standing in front of her, chest heaving, was her beloved husband. Morrigan could see Hugh was caught in an amalgam of angst boiled in anger, frustration, and primarily fear. She also glimpsed his pride that had her own swelling. She knew he didn’t know how to express his myriad emotions.

  “Tell me, Morrigan.”

  She put her fists on her hips, pleased with herself, her head cocked up at him. “I’m just fine. Never better.”

  He reached out and lifted her into his arms, kissing her on the lips long and hard.

  The cheers of the MacKays rose to a crescendo.

  Morrigan tore her mouth from his, her feet still dangling above the ground. “Watch yourself… MacKay. I… I might… do the same… to you as I did to Urdred,” she told him, out of breath.

  Her words blew through the crowd like a storm. Laughter rose like the clouds.

  “Or I to you,” Hugh whispered for her ears alone.

  She scowled at him, her face reddening, her own mirth rising to meet the crowd’s. “Say you’re not angry.”

  “I’m not. I was afraid,” he admitted. “And I didn’t like it. You draw my blood with your antics, wife.”

  “Have no fear,” she whispered, her hand lifting to stroke his cheek.

  “Maman! Do the same to Papa,” Rhys shouted, his thunderous child’s voice piercing the mirth.

  He ran over to them, thrusting his arms up to Hugh, the twins at his heels.

  Hugh had to put her down to scoop up the three, who giggled and waved to those around them. “It’s time to go back to chores.”

  “No!” Rhys stuck out his lip. “I want maman to do that to you. Tip you over.”

  Hugh stared at his son. “You will be a great leader I’m thinking. By wiping out your father, ’twould seem.”

  The jest shot around the throng, the MacKays chuckling. What a wondrous thing it would be to watch their lord and lady tussling in the Welsh manner. Ballads would be sung for generations!

  “No, I will not engage your mother in such. She has just come from a sickbed. I would not have her ailing afresh.”

  Morrigan was sure Rhys would argue, but he nodded along with the twins. When her gaze fell on the crestfallen Urdred, she sidled toward him, touching his arm. “Stay, my friend.”

  “Milady, I would not have hurt you… I wasn’t thinking when I agreed… I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”

  “No! Don’t think that. I’m very well. The laird cossets me too much,” she said, being more blunt than usual. “I would not have you think anything but the best of our encounter. And I shall teach you the tumble that—”

  “Do you include me in that?” Hugh interrupted.

  Morrigan looked around him for the children.

  “Eamon and Toric have taken them to the castle for a nuncheon.” Hugh eyed the rigid Urdred. “You’ll learn this tumble, as will the rest of us.”

  “I shall teach them,” Morrigan interjected.

  Hugh opened his mouth to retort, when Urdred touched his arm. “What?”

  “I take full blame, laird. I should not have let our lady risk—”

  “Hah!” Hugh snorted. “When you learn how to tame this wild Welsh woman, you must, indeed, inform your laird. For I don’t know the secret.”

  Morrigan laughed with the other MacKays near them, patting Urdred’s arm to reassure him.

  The obvious adoration of the huge MacKay warrior had Hugh closing his eyes and stifling a groan.

  Whipping Morrigan up into his arms again, he whirled around and strode to Orion.

  “Hugh, I don’t think the laird of MacKay is supposed to carry his wife about the place.”

  “Well, I’m sure as hell not letting anyone else do it.”

  Morrigan chuckled, feeling happy, content. If a little sadness touched her heart when she thought of their lost babe, she didn’t dwell on it. She would pray to carry another MacKay and God and the goddesses of Boudicca would safeguard the we’en.

  Hugh placed her on his saddle, one soft word quieting the destrier. Then he popped up behind her, encircling her with his tartan, arranging it around her back and legs.

  She smiled. “I’m not cold.”

  “I’ll not take a chance you’ll catch a chill.”

  She cuddled close to him. “Then you must keep me warm.” She saw the hot look in his eyes, and knew the look reflected her own.

  “I intend to keep you safe, always,” Hugh said into her hair.

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. I’ve trusted you since the first day.” She looked up at him, troubled that there were still things she must tell him about Rhys and herse
lf. Her worry now was not so much about Rhys and the stewardship of Trevelyan, but that Hugh might put a force of MacKays to war to ensure Rhys’s rights. She’d not have one MacKay embroiled in such. What a coil! Would all troubles be settled one day so that she could confide her innermost secret to the man she loved more than her life?

  “Perhaps I should put you to bed now,” Hugh murmured.

  “That might be wise.” The thundering of her heart almost blotted out his low chuckle. She would tell him her secrets later. Now she wanted to be loved.

  FOURTEEN

  The cause is hidden, but the result is well known.

  Ovid

  Morrigan watched him dress, loving that scarred body, and the feel of it under her. Even knowing that the scarring was old, she couldn’t quite stem all her fear.

  “If you keep looking at me that way, wife, I’ll be back with you.”

  She laughed. “I would not hate that.”

  Hugh whipped around, strode to the bed, and lifted her up to him. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Morrigan MacKay?”

  She loved being suspended in his arms. “If I am, you have made me so.” She could feel his body hardening.

  Hugh shook his head, eyeing her up and down. “No, my love, you’ve been beauteous since the womb. No one could change that.” He grinned and brought her to him, rubbing his mouth over hers. “Perhaps I will take credit for the glint in your glance, the heat that I love.”

  She brought her hands up to clasp his hips. “Hugh, I would talk with you, if you please.”

  “It will always please me, love.” He sank down next to her, taking her into his arms. “I find I’d prefer to talk a little later.”

  “Hugh!” Reluctant humor bubbled up in her as his mouth went to her breast. “We always do this.”

  “How wise we are,” he said, his mouth stroking her skin.

  “I—”

  The pounding on the door jarred her upward, Hugh’s low cursing an accompaniment.

  “What?” Hugh growled.

  “Messenger!” Toric called through the heavy door.

  “Handle it.”

  “I did. It says that there is trouble, that a scroll comes from the king brought by your godmother.”

  “Devil take the lot of them,” Hugh growled.

  A muffled laugh was heard from Toric.

  Disappointed, Morrigan moved away from him. “You must go.”

  “You wished to talk to me. You’re more important.”

  “No. The clan must come first,” she said, making a moue. “I like it not that you leave, but I’ll not let you stay, good Hugh.”

  “Beloved, I command you not to seduce me with those wondrous eyes. Is it not enough that you have brought my clan under your spell?” He rose from their bed.

  Morrigan looked her husband over from head to toe, feeling possessive of that strong body, that great mind, his wondrous caring. “As long as I’ve captured you.” She’d not thought to dare make such an open, flirtatious remark to him. Even now her temerity stunned her. Yet that sinewed body wooed her as words could never have done. She wanted him. She loved him. Now had been her time to speak of the deceptions and need to hide Rhys’s background behind lies and restraint. When she’d wanted to keep him with her to confess all, it couldn’t be done. Soon, there’d be time enough for explanations. Their love was so secure now, she no longer feared his rejection.

  “You have succeeded,” he whispered.

  Wrung from her reverie by his honeyed tone, she cast back in her mind to recall what she’d said. The memory shook her. The words had spilled out on their own, not to be called back. She touched his cheek. “Then I’ve won much.”

  He crossed to her side and kissed her hard, then moved back to don his raiment.

  Fully dressed, Hugh strode to the bed again. “Will you come down, beloved?”

  Morrigan nodded.

  His eyes went over her, a pulse beating in his throat. “Your words have unmanned me, Morrigan love. Do not come out of that bed until I leave the chamber or I’ll not be able to depart.”

  Feeling lazy and joyous, she fell back on the coverlet, waiting for the handmaiden Hugh would send. She closed her eyes and let the past hour relive itself in her mind.

  Hugh didn’t like the funereal glances aimed his way when he entered the room. He noted the king’s courier off to one side of the room, waiting his turn to speak. In deference to the priest and his mother, he would wait.

  Hugh eyed his godmother, not speaking. Lady Maud MacKenzie was not only a relative, she’d been his mother’s best friend. Though a distant relative of his mother’s, she’d lived in his mother’s household from babyhood. Younger than his mother, just a child when he’d been christened, she’d been treated as close family always. That she’d married a relation of the MacKays had been no surprise. Hugh had known her all his life, and as his godmother she was worthy of his care and respect. At that moment he wished her to perdition, wishing he could go back up the stairs to his wife, rather than welcome kin.

  He sighed. “Greetings, Godmother, Kieran.”

  “Greetings, Hugh MacKay,” mother and son said in chorus.

  Hugh eyed them and waited. His godmother was given to histrionics at times. He could be patient. Maud and her son had been part of the MacKay household since he’d reclaimed the estate. Hugh couldn’t deny them.

  If the rumor was true, and none were quite sure about it, Edward of England had been about to crown Kieran as keeper of the MacKay holding before Hugh had made his compact with that monarch and Edward Baliol. It would’ve been a righteous choice since Kieran was related by blood to the MacKays. If Hugh hadn’t threatened to battle both kings and their armies, he might’ve lost his heritage.

  If truth be told Kieran had a blood right to Clan MacKay. His father had been second cousin to Hugh’s father. Owen MacKenzie had been a profligate who watered away his holding with fruitless enterprises. Though Maud had a substantial portion from the Sin-clairs and Lindsays, Hugh’s mother’s people, Kieran had been left little by his father.

  Hugh felt a strong kinship to the two because they’d always supported him. He swallowed his irritation and smiled.

  “Good day to you, Godmother. And to you, Father MacKenzie.” He smiled when Kieran looked pained.

  “Call me by my name, cousin. We’ve never stood on ceremony with each other.”

  “True.” Hugh sighed.

  Both priest and godmother looked worried. If they knew how eager he was to see the back to them, they might really scowl. He didn’t want to talk to them when he could be intimate with Morrigan. He laughed to himself when he thought of what his godmother would say if he voiced his thoughts. “ ’Twould seem all is not well by the looks on your faces. What news?”

  “Hugh, I fear there are rough roads ahead and I like it not.” His godmother held up her hand. “I’ll not interrupt the messenger, who should speak first.” She gestured to the man who stood to one side, an urgency to his movements, though his manner was deferential.

  “Fine.” Hugh waved his hand at the king’s courier, and went to the trencher board to pour some ale.

  The courier coughed, then spread his papyrus, reading. “Milord, by writ of his Royal Highness, Edward Baliol, it has come to his attention that a scroll of annulment has crossed the desk of Edward of England. That your marriage to Morrigan of Llywelyn is nullified—”

  “Good Christ Almighty! You daresay this to me in my own castle!” Hugh flung his goblet against the fireplace, denting it. “No more!”

  The messenger coughed. “ ’Tis not my wish to offend you, lord—”

  “You have. And Edward Baliol has incurred my everlasting wrath if he thinks that some paltry scroll will end a marriage sanctioned by the Church and witnessed by hundreds.”

  “My lord, if you would hear me out—”

  Hugh whirled, teeth bared. “Nay! You’ll find yourself fortunate if I don’t skewer you!”

  “Hugh!” Morrigan stood at the entra
nce to the great room. “What mischief is this?”

  He saw how startled she was by his ire. Her confusion fueled his temper. “Leave!” Hugh commanded the messenger, who looked both frightened and determined.

  “Hugh! Wait. His words can’t hurt us.” She went to him and touched his arm. “Can you not see he’s been instructed to say all the message?”

  “I’ll not hear it!” He bellowed.

  Morrigan looked first at him, then at Lady MacKenzie and Kieran, then at the messenger. She laid her hand on her husband’s arm, then gazed at the courier again. “Begin at the beginning and finish the missive.”

  The messenger swallowed. “If it please milady.”

  “It doesn’t please me,” Hugh said through his teeth, his arm going around his wife as the messenger made a new start.

  Morrigan reeled as the words filled the room. She clutched Hugh, who enfolded her in his arms. “How… how can this be? We would have to sign an annulment agreement and we haven’t.”

  “I would say that someone has used our signatures freely.”

  “The annulment is counterfeit? How would Edward of England countenance it?”

  Hugh exhaled. “He and I have never been friends. He would seize any weapon to come at me. He uses this.”

  The messenger coughed. “There’s more.”

  Morrigan nodded. Hugh growled.

  “The aforesaid statement was brought to me and has been issued to you. Since I was there when your nuptials took place, since I know there was no impediment to the vows, I will do all in my power to aid you if you choose to answer these charges. Signed Edward Baliol, Rex.”

  Silence spun about the room.

  “All… all is not lost. Edward has seconded us, Hugh.”

  “It doesn’t matter what any say. You’re my wife.”

  Morrigan looked up at her husband. “What shall we do?”

  “Nothing. I repeat, you’re my wife, under God and Scotland. Nothing can gainsay that. I won’t let it.”

  Kieran MacKenzie cleared his throat.

  Hugh’s baleful glance fell on him. “What?”

  “My feeling is that this can be set to rights in short order. If my lady goes to Edinburgh, talks with the two Edwards, if she avers that her vows are correct, all is cared for in the proper manner, if she swears on her name and the good book—”