by K. E. Saxon
Except his wealth, which still unnerved her a bit.
And the number of clanspeople she had yet to meet. What if they thought her too rustic for their laird?
With a deep sigh of resignation, she resolved to make the best of things. After all, her fate was fully in the hands of others—or at least it seemed so to her. She only hoped they treated it with due care.
Walking over to her opened clothing chest, she took out the silk chemise and pulled it on over her head. A hot blush infused her cheeks when she saw the sheerness of the material and she drew in a deep breath in an effort to calm her agitation. This was her wedding day; this sort of garment was permitted, she reminded herself firmly.
After drawing on the lovely emerald-green velvet gown she would be wed in, she exited the bedchamber and met her father outside his chamber door. He escorted her to the chapel and solemnly handed her over to her husband-to-be.
CHAPTER 4
“With these witnessed consents, you are now husband and wife. You may kiss your bride to bind the vows.”
The priest’s words jolted Maryn from the stupor she’d been in during the ceremony. “That will not be necessary,” she managed to squeak. ‘Twas too soon! They’d only just met a few hours before, after all. Mayhap in a few moons she’d be ready to allow a kiss from him.
“Aye, ‘tis necessary,” her new husband said as he placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him. Evidently seeing the panic in her eyes, he lifted his hand to her cheek and stroked it gently with his thumb. For her ears alone, he said softly, “We belong to each other now, Maryn. Let us prove it with a kiss.”
She nodded jerkily.
Her husband dipped his head and took possession of her mouth. She could feel the swiftness of his heartbeat under her palm and her own answered in kind. With little preamble, he ran his tongue along her bottom lip.
Maryn gasped. Her skin tingled as she leaned into him. Mayhap her thoughts of doing thus to him were not so odd after all.
Her husband tucked his tongue into her mouth and drew his arms around her, holding her tight against him. And then he feasted upon her.
The glow that had begun in her belly expanded full-blown down to her limbs. Dizzy and weak from the intensity of feelings the kiss evoked in her, she melted into him, her quavering legs no longer capable of keeping her upright.
When the crowd around them roared in approval, her husband’s head shot up, abandoning the kiss.
Weak-kneed, Maryn clung to him.
Her husband’s voice held a smile in it when he whispered in her ear. “Was that your first kiss, then?”
Maryn’s eyes drifted open as she gave him a nod.
“Did you enjoy it?”
She blushed. By the smug grin on his face, she knew he knew the answer, but still she nodded again, whispering back, “Aye, very much.”
“And did I enjoy it, do you suppose?” he teased.
Maryn grinned. “Nay, you hated it. So I shall not force you to it again.”
Her husband laughed and gave her a little squeeze.
Maryn laughed as well. She was finding her new husband to be a much different sort of man than she had expected him to be.
Her father cleared his throat and pounded her new husband on the back. “She’s yours now, lad. You must take good care of my lass, for she’s more precious than a thousand MacLaurin holdings combined, I trow.”
Maryn’s eyes misted at her father’s words.
“Aye, that she is,” her husband replied, his gaze still fixed on her. That gave her a little thrill.
With seeming reluctance, he made to step away from her, but Maryn held fast to him, not realizing she did so, until her husband unhooked her arms from around his waist and settled them at her sides once more.
She blushed.
He grinned.
Her father smiled at them both before turning to her. He hugged her tight and kissed her cheek. “Mind your husband and be the good lass that I know you to be.”
She nodded and tried to smile, but the prickling sensation in her nose made it more of a grimace. “Aye, Papa. I wish you could stay—at least until the morrow.”
“There, there Daughter. All is as it should be, you shall see.”
“Aye, Papa. I know.”
He kept one arm around her as he turned toward his men. “I must get back to my holding and tell the elders that our trip was a success. I cannot trust this duty to a messenger, the outcome is too important. Besides, the Macleans will want to prepare for your arrival.”
Nodding once again and unable to speak past the lump in her throat, Maryn gave her father one last hug.
Laird Donald called for his men to gather their steeds.
The couple followed him out of the chapel into the courtyard and watched him as he prepared to mount. Laird Donald turned and motioned for Daniel to come over to him.
“Your father requests a privy word with me, it seems,” he said before strolling over to him.
*
Smiling, Laird Donald clapped Daniel on the back once again, clearly inordinately pleased by the outcome of the negotiations. “I’ll see you at the Maclean holding in a sennight’s time, then.”
“Aye. I hope Maryn will be ready to embark on a journey again so soon.”
“She’s young and agile. She’ll be fine, fear not,” Laird Donald replied. “She’s also an innocent,” he warned. “Be gentle and patient with her, lad. She’s had no mother to advise her and I’m not sure that she knows of a wife’s duty in the marriage bed.”
“Aye. I’ll not force her to anything, worry not,” Daniel said. And he had no worry, either. Maryn had enjoyed their kiss and she would enjoy the rest of what they’d do later in their bed as well. He’d make certain of it.
“That eases my mind, then,” Laird Donald said before turning and mounting his steed. With a quick nod to Daniel and his daughter, he led his men through the gate.
*
Maryn’s throat constricted as she watched her father and his men trail out of the fortress. She knew she would see him again soon, but the reality of her situation now fully dawned, making her palms sweat. For she no longer was under her father’s protection. She was a wife now; she must answer to her husband—a stranger—from this day forward. And she was not only a wife, she was the wife of a very powerful laird, which meant she was the mistress of this vast holding. She looked around her, craning her neck to see the top of the outer wall and gate tower. Her heart bounded against her breast, making it hard to breathe. She had no notion of what would be expected of her. Oh, she knew the basics, but she’d been trained to oversee a much smaller household. Who knew what differences lay in store for her to learn?
And she had yet to meet any of Laird MacLaurin’s clanspeople. She hoped they liked her. She knew they’d think her a bit eccentric, but what if they hated her? She bit her knuckles. Would she be doomed to spending all her days friendless and alone?
Her new husband took her hand away from her mouth and slid his thumb over her abused digits. “Ease yourself, Maryn. Naught is expected of you. Except that you enjoy the festivities.”
She smiled at him. “Aye. I believe I can do that.” Nay, not alone, she realized, remembering the kiss she’d shared with him. And mayhap, not friendless either. For she certainly liked him, and he seemed to like her as well.
Her husband tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and they walked toward the keep.
Once inside the great hall, he called for the festivities to begin. Soon, trenchers of food and communal goblets for ale and wine began to appear. A raised dais with a table for the couple and a few select others was at the far end of the chamber, with additional trestle tables to accommodate all the guests.
Maryn’s knees trembled upon seeing the vast number of warriors and other clanspeople gathered. What if she said something foolish and they thought her a simpleton? Her skin grew clammy as he guided her through the boisterous crowd.
Once she was settled at her place
on the dais, he asked her, “Would you like a bit of food now? Some wine, mayhap?” Without waiting for her reply, he motioned for a trencher to be placed before them and saw that some wine was poured into their communal chalice.
Charmed and once again soothed by her husband’s gentle treatment, her lips tipped in a smile. “My thanks.”
His answering grin made her breath catch. He captured her gaze and refused to release it for long seconds, during which time all the noise and bustle surrounding them seemed to fade into nothingness, leaving in its place a gossamer cloud of joy.
After another moment, one of her husband’s clansmen came up behind him and shook his shoulder. “Congratulations!” the man all but bellowed, sending a furtive glance in her direction.
With a mixture of relief and regret that the spell her husband had woven was now broken, she turned her attention to her meal.
Over the next minutes, as a seeming endless number of MacLaurin clansmen took their turns congratulating him—all without a single introduction to her, her shaky confidence did not fail to note—she shoveled food into her mouth. Before she knew it, she’d eaten everything on the trencher and Daniel had not had a chance to take even one bite.
Mortified, she scooted the trencher over to a place further down the table where another man had been seated a few minutes past. His own trencher was still quite full, she noticed. With a quick look around, she spied the man in deep conversation with two others at one of the trestle tables below. No one watched. What would be the harm? In a quick move, she brought the full trencher between her and Daniel. Satisfied with her ploy and much less worried now, Maryn took a sip of wine and settled back in her chair.
After another moment, her husband whispered in her ear, “I see my lieutenant motioning for me to go to him. I’m expecting some important tidings, which he may now have. Do you mind if I leave you here alone for a few moments?”
“Nay. I understand. There is no holiday from clan business.”
Only a moment or two later, just as Maryn was about to take a sip of wine, the young page assigned to wait upon them murmured near her ear, “I beg your pardon, m’lady, but the horse marshal has asked that I request a bit of advice from you regarding your mare.”
Maryn settled the chalice back in its place on the table and turned her gaze upon the lad. He was nearing his twelfth summer, she surmised, and would soon be made a squire. From this close angle, she could see the soft, pale fuzz of the beginnings of a first beard sprouting from his chin and above his upper lip. Kind brown eyes that matched the color of his hair rested upon her left cheek instead of meeting her own. “Aye. Whatever he needs from me, I will gladly give.”
The lad’s eyes darted toward the doorway leading into the antechamber and then back to her face. He leaned a bit closer and whispered, “Your mare, it seems, is distressed, m’lady. Naught the marshal has done thus far has calmed her, and with each passing moment, she grows more distressed and wild. He fears she will hurt herself and others if he does not learn the key to calming her.”
Alarm rose up inside her and Maryn’s heart doubled in meter. She rose to her feet and rushed to descend the dais, saying over her shoulder, “I’m the only one that can calm her! I must fly before she does real harm!”
*
“All is in readiness, Laird, should the MacPhersons decide to attack,” Murray, Daniel’s lieutenant, said.
Daniel nodded solemnly. The MacPhersons had been threatening war for the past days if the cattle they accused the MacLaurins of stealing was not returned. “Laird MacPherson is as stubborn as an ox. I’ve told him many times that he is accusing the wrong clan of this deed, yet still he disbelieves me. Christ’s Bones! I’ve even given him proof that it could not have been any of our clansmen, but his mind is set and there is no bending it.”
“Well, if ‘tis war he’s set upon, he’ll find us not so easy to overcome. For ours is the most secure and well-built fortress in all the Highlands,” Murray replied.
“Aye, I’ve no worries on that score. And I’ve sent extra men with my father-in-law to escort him past all danger of ambush. The MacPhersons are well known for their stealth and they might attack our visitors out of spite.”
Anxious to get back to his bride, Daniel scanned the dais. She was not there. Worried that she might be speaking with one of his clansmen, he searched the hall. He’d deliberately not introduced her to the men who’d met with him at the high table earlier for fear that they would let slip the troubles the clan was having with their neighbors. There was no reason to distress his bride over a situation that he hoped to resolve without bloodshed.
At last, his eyes settled on her. She looked troubled—and she was leaving. Daniel’s brows slammed together. With a hurried excuse to his lieutenant, he rushed to follow. Unfortunately, he was frustrated in his attempt to reach her, as he was stopped repeatedly on his way to the entry by his clansmen, each wanting to either congratulate him or question him about the MacPhersons.
*
Maryn yanked open the heavy door to the keep and a gust of bitter cold wind crashed against her, reminding her she had no cloak. ‘Twas, she assumed, with her other belongings in the laird’s chamber, wherever that may be. She dared not take the time to search out that room, so, a mad dash to the stables, ‘twould be. ‘Twould not be the first time she’d kept warm with a horse blanket, and no doubt ‘twould not be the last.
As Maryn approached the stable, she heard the unmistakable, all-too familiar sound of Fia’s snorts and whinnies, followed by a sharp splintering sound as hoof met wood. Oh, my. She’ll wreck the stall if I don’t get her calmed down in time. Maryn hastened her step into a near run and flew through the doorway toward her mare, calling out to her at the same time, “Fia, I’m here! All is well!”
The marshal rushed up to her, cap in hand, “Blessed be, m’lady. I’ve done all I know to do to calm this lovely beast,—”
Maryn began to croon low and reached out her hand toward the shifting and restless mare, nodding and casting a quick eye to the marshal.
“—but still she balks. She’s a beauty and I worry she’ll cause herself harm if you cannot ease her.”
“All will be well, Marshal, but ‘tis best for you and your stablemen to leave me here with her. She will take longer to ease with strangers about, I trow.”
Already the mare had calmed enough to allow Maryn to stroke her face, but the tension still reflected in her quivering muscular neck and shoulders made plain that she was not yet completely soothed.
Maryn continued to croon to Fia for the next moments, and in that time, as Fia settled, so too, did Maryn. The harried departure from her home, the continuous fretting, the forced marriage to an almost-stranger, the burden of her guilt and remorse, all weighed upon her in the still and quiet of the stable and seemed, all at once, too heavy to bear. She began to weep. Though she was more than a little sure that ‘twas the fatigue that made her so fragile, still she allowed herself the release. For release it was. ‘Twas not long before the spent tears and bone-weariness made her eyelids droop and her head nod. Overcome by the need to rest awhile—just a moment or two, she promised herself—she moved inside the stall next to Fia and curled up in the corner with a horse blanket wrapped around herself. Before her cheek met the new straw, before her eyes closed, before she could even manage a soft goodnight to Fia, she fell into the blissful, black, warm cocooning void of unconscious sleep.
*
Daniel rushed upstairs, hoping to find his bride in their bedchamber. She was not there. He trotted back down and stood in the entryway. It was then that he felt the bitter draft. Had she left the keep? Alarmed, as she wore no cloak, Daniel rushed outside. Standing on the steps, he looked in all directions but found the courtyard empty. Where would she have gone?
Mayhap the chapel to light a candle and say a prayer? He headed there first.
But the chapel was empty as well.
Where else should he look for her? The distant whinny of a horse remi
nded him of her attachment to her mare and he struck out in the direction of the stables. “Maryn!” he called as he neared the animal’s stall. Silence. She was not in here, either, it seemed. Stymied once more, Daniel leaned against the stall door and stared blankly into the distance. Mayhap she was in another of the bedchambers in the keep.
Just as he was turning to leave, the mare stepped to the side and he at last caught sight of his bride. Curled in a tight ball under a horse blanket in the back corner, she was fast asleep. Even from this distance, he could hear her teeth chattering from the cold.
Daniel squeezed past the snorting mare and gently lifted his bride into his arms. She weighed so little, surely not much more than his mail armor.
“Laird Giant,” she mumbled, snuggling further into the warmth.
Daniel smiled. ‘Twas the amusing epithet she’d given to him when she was but a bairn.
A violent tremor passed through her and his smile dropped into a frown of concern.
“C-c-cold!” she whimpered.
Bundling her more closely against his chest, he rushed back to the keep. After taking the stairs two at a time to the upper chambers, he called to a passing servant to fetch warmed wine as quickly as possible.
When he got Maryn into their bedchamber, he placed her in the chair by the fire and stoked the embers to bring the flames up higher. While he prepared the blaze, the maid brought in the drink and set it on the table next to the chair.
“Should I help m’lady remove her gown, Laird?”
“That will not be necessary, Guilda.”
With a nod and a quick, concerned look at her mistress, the maid departed.
Once the fire was at a level to Daniel’s satisfaction, he returned to the chair and lifted Maryn into his arms. Settling her on his lap, he held her close, trying to absorb as much of the cold as he was able.
After a short time, he lifted the cup of warmed wine to his bride’s lips. “Here, Maryn, drink this down. ‘Twill warm you.”
