Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3

by Ceci Giltenan

  At the mention of Rhiannon’s name, a look of horror crossed her mother’s face. “Oh my, how could we have forgotten? Someone must go tell Rhiannon about the wedding.”

  Gillian shot her mother a quizzical look. “Why? She rarely leaves her cottage and she never comes to the keep anymore.”

  Lana wasn’t the only one who frowned at Gillian. “Aye, she prefers to stay at home but she would be very hurt if we didn’t let her know this was happening. She cares very deeply about this clan, Gillian.”

  Gillian didn’t argue. Rhiannon was an old woman who lived in a cottage just beyond the village, at the edge of the forest. Many of the MacLennan women seemed to revere her. They gushed about how lovely and kind she was. Frankly, Rhiannon was rumored to have the gift of “sight” and Gillian suspected that was the reason people courted her favor. Everyone had heard stories about Rhiannon’s wonderful predictions that had come true. Gillian wasn’t sure she believed that Rhiannon was truly a seer but Lana had always considered her a good friend. “I suppose ye are right mother. Would ye mind going? Let her know about the wedding and tell her I would be honored if she would attend.”

  “I’m sure she won’t approve, but aye, I will take the news to her.”

  “Thank ye, mother.”

  Lana turned to leave. “Come, Fallon.”

  Fallon continued to braid Gillian’s hair. “Mama, I can’t. Gillie needs me.” Gillian noticed Ailsa had become quiet and sidled out of her mother’s line of vision. Gillian smiled. Obviously her littlest sister didn’t want to go either.

  “Nonsense,” said her mother. “Alana or one of the other women can do that.”

  Alana stepped in, taking the strands of Gillian’s hair from Fallon, whispering, “Go, Fallon. Let’s not push things today.”

  Fallon sighed, but followed her mother. Once they had left and it was clear she wouldn’t be dragged along too, Ailsa flopped happily on the bed and resumed her chatter.

  ~ * ~

  It was well after noon and time for the wedding before her mother and Fallon returned. Gillian was already dressed in the newly adorned léine. It was cinched at the waist with a braided leather belt and she had to admit that the yellow embroidery at the neck and sleeves added a beautiful touch. Around her shoulders she wore a red plaid with green and gold stripes. Alana had woven a wreath of ivy for her which held a fine woolen veil on her head.

  The clan’s healer, Agnes, brought her a small bouquet of herbs. “Gillian, lass, I only have dried herbs at this time of year, but this contains burnet for a merry heart. My lady, I know this is hard, but try to keep yer heart light. The clan loves ye and will always support ye. I have also put in lavender for devotion and luck, sage for long life, marjoram for joy, and yarrow for everlasting love.” Gillian tried not to roll her eyes at this. She didn’t believe any amount of yarrow would help bring everlasting love to this union. “I have also added a bit of mint for warm thoughts because it is a bitter cold day.”

  “Thank ye, Agnes. Ye have all been great friends to me. I understand that some of ye are not happy about this wedding. I can’t say he would have been my first choice either. However, I swore to ye, when ye made me yer chief, that I would always consider the good of the clan first. This is what our king has asked of us and I can only believe it will help stabilize us and once again give us strong allies.”

  Her mother clenched her jaw, her lips pressed into a tight line, but everyone else offered their good wishes.

  A knock sounded at the door. Alana opened it to Daniel, who stepped into the room before exclaiming, “My lady Gillian, ye are beautiful lass. Yer da would be so very proud of ye.”

  “Thank ye, Daniel. I hope so. Are they ready for me?”

  “Aye, my lady, they await ye on the steps of the chapel. I would be honored if ye would allow me to escort ye.”

  She hadn’t had enough time to think of who would give her away. It should have been her father with her today. The pain caused by the memory of his loss nearly took her breath away. She took a deep breath, forcing back the tears that threatened. This was political. This was to protect the clan. She would not give in to sentimentality. “Of course, Daniel. Thank ye.”

  Ailsa frowned. “Ye said that Fallon and I would stand with ye?”

  “And ye will, pet. Daniel is just going to do what Da would—would have done were he here.” Gillian paused a moment in order to maintain her control. When she saw tears well in Ailsa’s eyes she pulled her into a hug. “I need ye and Fallon to stand with me when I take my vows. Run now and get yer mantle, it is bitter cold out. Then ye’ll walk ahead of me to the chapel doors.” With Ailsa still on the edge of tears Gillian leaned down and whispered. “I need for ye to be strong with me, pet. Da would want it and I can’t do it without ye.”

  Ailsa nodded. Releasing her and swiping at the moisture on her cheeks, she hurried from the room. The rest of the women followed, each giving Gillian a hug and wishing her well as they went. Fallon and her mother were the last to leave. Fallon, who also looked close to tears, hugged her silently for a long moment.

  “That’s enough, Fallon. Let’s get this over with and by the saints stop crying. At least it isn’t ye.” Lana pulled her away and out of the room.

  Daniel arched an eyebrow at Lana as she left, but said nothing until the sound of their footsteps faded. He stepped close to Gillian, taking both of her hands in his. “Gillian, I know the leadership of this clan has weighed heavily on ye these last few months. Ye have done very well. Ye do not belong in a convent, ye belong here with us and ye made the right decision in marrying Fingal MacIan.”

  “I’m glad ye think so, Daniel, but I wish there was another way.”

  “I know ye do, but ye’ll be fine, lass.” She nodded. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Are ye ready?”

  She smiled. “Not really, but time won’t change that.”

  He chuckled. “Nay, it won’t.” He took Gillian’s elbow and walked with her down the stairs and through the deserted hall. Fallon and Ailsa waited just inside the doors. When they reached her sisters Daniel stopped for a moment and grinned. “Are we ready, lassies?” Both Fallon and Ailsa nodded. “Then I suppose we shouldn’t keep them waiting. Go on now and part the crowd. We will be right behind ye.”

  Just moments after Fallon and Ailsa left the keep, Gillian followed, on Daniel’s arm. As they stepped out the main doors a cheer went up from the members of her clan, their show of support bolstering her flagging confidence. Daniel was right. She had made the right choice and her reasons for agreeing to the wedding stood all around her. She belonged here with her clan. Snow had started to fall and a bitter wind blew. She turned her face to the blowing snow and laughed. “Lovely day for a wedding, wouldn’t ye say, Daniel?”

  He laughed too. “Ah, lass, don’t ye know? If snow falls on yer wedding day, ’tis a good omen for a long, happy marriage.”

  “Well if the severity of the storm has any impact, ’twill be positively blissful. Like my mother said, let’s hurry and get this over with, otherwise I’ll be frozen to death before it ever starts.”

  Chapter 6

  Although Fingal had stretched out on a pallet near the hearth in the great hall, he hadn’t slept much that night. He had worried about the huge responsibility he was about to undertake. Just before dawn, a soft noise from the rear of the hall woke him. He had watched as his betrothed slip out the back of the keep. For a moment he had wondered if she was running away. As soon as that thought had crossed his mind, he set it aside. She might not like this, but she was strong and bold; she would not sneak away like a thief in the night. Wherever she was going, he was certain that she would marry him as she promised.

  He had spent most of the morning taking stock of the clan’s assets, most importantly their manpower and defense measures. The steward, Ailbert, was both accommodating and enthusiastic. He had clearly been one of the MacLennans who welcomed Fingal’s leadership. After saying his piece the previous night, Eadoin too had been helpful, p
roviding much needed information about their military strengths and weaknesses. When Niall approached at one point to suggest that he prepare for the wedding he had been shocked at how late it was. There had only been time for a quick wash and a change of clothes before the ceremony. Now he stood solemnly on the steps of the chapel with Niall and the MacLennans’ priest, Father Stephen.

  Gillian’s mother and several other women had just exited the keep and were winding their way through the people who had gathered for the wedding. A hush fell over the crowd as they waited expectantly. Fingal wished he were almost anywhere but here. He had never aspired to leadership and yet it had been thrust upon him, along with an unwilling bride. These people were his people now. Their success or failure, their safety—their very lives—were his responsibility. God’s teeth, could he do this?

  His concern must have shown on his face. Niall leaned close. “Fingal, never doubt that ye are up to this challenge. Ye are a skilled warrior. Ye are both intelligent and compassionate. I respect ye more than any man alive and I am confident ye will be a great leader.”

  “Thank ye, Niall.” Before he could say more, the doors opened again. Fallon and Ailsa stepped out of the hall followed moments later by Gillian, on Daniel’s arm. A great cheer went up from the crowd. The wind picked up and the snow swirled around them. Gillian turned her face into the wind and laughed. Dear God, she was spectacular. Perhaps she would never love him, as far as that went she might never even like him, but by all that was holy, he could think of worse things than waking up next to her every day for the rest of his life.

  Daniel led her through the crowd to his side. Before Father Stephen could utter a word, Daniel said, “Father, I know it is traditional for the couple to exchange vows in front of the church, but since the bishop is allowing us to break with several other traditions, do ye think God would mind terribly if we took this inside on such a blustery day?”

  Father Stephen looked flustered at Daniel’s request. “Well, ah...well—nay, I don’t suppose so.” He turned, opened the door, and led those assembled inside out of the wind.

  “That’s much better, Father.” Giving the priest a roguish wink, Daniel added, “frankly, I don’t think our Lord himself could’ve heard their vows in that wind.” Gillian chuckled and Fingal found the sound entrancing.

  Father Stephen administered the wedding vows without preamble. Practically before he knew it, their promises had been spoken and Fingal held the blessed, gold ring, symbolizing their eternal bond in his hand. He took Gillian’s cold hand in his, capturing her gaze for a moment. Looking into the amber depths of her eyes he saw neither hate nor fear, only uncertainty mixed with determination. Well at least that’s something. He slipped the gold band on her ring finger saying, “With this ring, I thee wed, in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.”

  Father Stephen finished the ceremony with the final blessings before saying, “Laird MacLennan, ye may kiss yer bride.”

  Fingal caressed her cheek tenderly. She arched an eyebrow at him, but he cupped her jaw in his hand before leaning in to give her a gentle kiss. Cheers of approval filled the little church. Gillian’s lips were soft and warm. He had the sudden urge to pull her closer and deepen the kiss, but he refrained. When he stepped back, she looked bemused and a small gasp escaped her lips. Fingal smiled, pleased to see she was not unaffected. “My lady, shall we lead our clan back to the keep? I understand something of a last minute feast has been prepared to celebrate our nuptials.”

  Still looking perplexed she answered, “Aye, Laird.”

  Fingal suppressed a grin. This formidable young woman, who argued with the king’s messenger from the top of her curtain wall and laughed in the face of wind and snow, was knocked off balance by his kiss. Aye, there was hope for this marriage.

  ~ * ~

  Jeanne had indeed managed to pull together a modest feast. They were served a creamy fish stew, roasted salmon and root vegetables, fresh bread, preserved fruit, and one of Gillian’s favorites, a rich dense cake made with dried apples. It was a good thing Ailsa, who sat on her left, kept up her usual running chatter because Gillian had trouble focusing on anything. She couldn’t possibly have made intelligent conversation with anyone.

  Fingal’s kiss had surprised her. It was sweet and gentle, almost loving. She knew their vows would be sealed with a kiss, but she hadn’t expected to like it. Well at least it was over, she thought.

  But it wasn’t. All through the meal he did little things that unsettled her. He touched her hand seemingly randomly or brushed her arm with his. He served her food and filled her goblet with wine. He leaned in to whisper a comment or ask a question. Each time it caused her stomach to flutter.

  At the end of the meal, their new laird called for quiet. “This has been a wonderful feast. My thanks to ye Jeanne for pulling it together so quickly. The welcome is most appreciated.” He waited while a cheer went up praising Jeanne’s efforts. “Although the king’s dictate named me Laird MacLennan, today Lady MacLennan and I have made the holy vows of marriage to each other. Now, by both proclamation and marriage to yer lady, I am yer laird. Therefore, Lady MacLennan and I will accept yer pledges of fealty.” He reached for her hand and pulled her up to stand beside him.

  This wasn’t what Gillian expected. Of course she knew he was going to ask for their fealty, but she didn’t expect him to include her. She didn’t know what to say, so she stood beside him dumbly as each member of the clan present gave their promises of loyalty to both of them.

  It took quite a while but when everyone had spoken the words, Fingal made one last announcement. “Thank ye all for yer show of support and commitment to this clan. Now I give ye my vow that I will serve faithfully as yer laird and that I will consider the good of this clan foremost in all actions. Although I was named Fingal MacIan at birth and I will always consider Alistair MacIan my father, and Niall MacIan my brother, today I stand before ye as Fingal MacLennan, Laird of Clan MacLennan.”

  That was the last thing Gillian expected to hear and to her surprise, a deafening cheer went up. She wasn’t quite sure how he had done it, but Fingal seemed to be winning the hearts of her clan. Oh, it wasn’t unreserved on everyone’s part, but still it was a better response than she had expected when Laird MacIan announced the king’s order earlier that morning. The memory of it reminded her of how very little sleep she had had the previous night and how utterly exhausted she felt now. She couldn’t suppress a yawn.

  Fingal smiled at her, addressing the clan again as the cheering subsided. “Thank ye. Now, I must apologize. I realize that it’s early, but all things considered, it has been a rather long day. Lady MacLennan and I will retire now.”

  More cheers went up. Some members of the clan yelled bawdy suggestions while others called for the bedding ritual. Gillian blushed hotly. Dear God, how had she forgotten that? She didn’t think she could face it. Perhaps sensing her panic, Fingal took her hand in his and silenced the crowd again. He grinned cheekily. “While I appreciate all of yer kind words of advice, and offers of assistance, I’m sure ye will agree that Lady Gillian might prefer some privacy. After all, this whole wedding came as a bit of a shock.” Many of those present greeted this with disappointment although there were also murmurs of approval around the room. “Still, I wouldn’t want this union to start with a bad omen, so Father Stephen, would ye be so kind as to come with us and bless the wedding bed?” The members of the clan seemed satisfied by this and Gillian was profoundly relieved.

  The priest nodded. “Of course, Laird, I would be happy to.”

  “Thank ye, Father.” Fingal led Gillian through the crowd as people called well wishes to them.

  When they reached the entrance to the stairs, someone yelled, “Now, Laird, are ye sure ye know what’s what? I’m the father of three, I’d be glad to talk ye through it.”

  To the delight of the clan Fingal called, “Aye, I think I have the basics down, Tarmon. With any luck, I’ll be catching up to ye soon enough.
” The result was another thunderous cheer.

  Gillian said a silent word of thanks to God that she was already through the door because if possible her blush grew deeper. Father Stephen was well ahead of them on the stairs. When they reached her chamber—their chamber now—Father quickly blessed the bed. If anything he looked more embarrassed than she did. He wished them a good evening and hurried from the room. Fingal closed the door behind him before turning to face her.

  Unsure of what to do, she clutched her hands in front of her and looked down. Fingal crossed the room and nudged her chin until she had to meet his eyes. “Gillian, I know today was very difficult for ye. The steps ye’ve taken—we’ve taken—will ensure the safety and unity of this clan for the future. No chief in yer situation could have done more. I am honored that ye are my wife.”

  Gillian was at a loss. “Laird, I—”

  “Lass, we are married. Please, call me Fingal.”

  She sighed. “Fingal, I don’t know what to say.”

  ~ * ~

  Her reluctance to marry him and her assurance that she could never love him weighed heavily on Fingal from the moment she had agreed to the wedding. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with someone who could barely tolerate his presence. Then he kissed her after they exchanged vows and he had a moment of clarity. A woman who could hate a man forever didn’t become flustered by a chaste kiss. Perhaps she had been simply caught up in the moment. Still, he put this new insight to the test. He intentionally touched her casually throughout dinner. He spoke low in her ear, forcing her to lean close to hear. He served her food and wine. Fingal was fully aware that he had a reputation for being charming. In truth, he had never consciously tried to win anyone’s affections. So during the wedding feast he simply did what came naturally and to his delight, he kept her off-balance well into the evening.