Cate hurried over to him, reaching up to adjust the pin over his heart.
“Your turn now. I’d like you to help me with this, please.” She handed the necklace to him.
He held it in a shaking hand, staring at it for a moment before moving behind her to position it around her throat. She was aware of the heat from the jewel the moment it touched her skin.
“I’d ask a moment alone with my bride, if you all dinna mind.” He said it quietly, moving to stand in front of Cate.
Everyone left the hall, going out onto the great front stairway and down to the courtyard.
He ran his finger along the cloth woven into the front of her garland and, meeting her gaze, arched an eyebrow.
She chuckled at the familiar haughty expression.
“Yes. I decided today would be a most appropriate time to wear your territory marker again.” She backed up and did a little twirl for him. “What do you think? Do I look all right?”
His face was serious, solemn as he moved close. Taking her hands in his, he gazed into her eyes.
“I meant my words last night, wee Caty. Yer a beautiful woman and you make a beautiful bride. And aye, the dress, though most unusual, suits the unusual woman who wears it.” He lifted her hand, searching her eyes. “I hae a boon to ask of you on our wedding day. Will you grant it?”
“Whatever you want, Connor. You only have to ask.” She meant it with her whole heart.
“Although this is no real, it’s the only wedding day I’ll ever hae.” He gripped her hand tightly. “Selfish though it may be, I canna stand the thought of marrying a woman who wears another man’s betrothal gift. Will you remove it for me, Caty? Just for this day.”
Richard’s ring. She hadn’t even thought about it. The tears she’d held at bay all morning began to roll slowly down her cheeks now. For a woman who never cried, it seemed to be all she could do since she’d been here. She slipped her hands from his grip and pulled the ring from her finger, holding it out to him.
He held it in the palm of his hand, looking down at it for a moment before he dropped it into the little leather pouch he wore hanging from his waist. Placing his hands tenderly on either side of her face, he wiped her tears away with his thumbs.
“Thank you.” He said it quietly, softly. “I’d no intended to cause you pain. I’ll guard it for you weel and return it on the morrow.” He stared at her with sad eyes.
Before he could remove his hands, she placed her own over them, holding him there. “My tears aren’t for the ring, Connor. They’re just . . . because.” She shrugged.
How could she ever face telling him that her tears were for him? Tears she couldn’t stop because he believed this wedding wasn’t real, because soon she’d leave him forever, because she loved him and he didn’t love her. She sighed deeply and let go of his hands to wipe at her face. Her cheeks were still raw and the salty tears burned.
He extended his arm to her. “Yer face seems a wee bit chafed this morning. Did you try shaving that as weel as yer legs?”
She took his arm, grateful to him for changing the subject to give her time to compose herself.
“No, I did not. But I do believe shaving was involved. Had one of us shaved his face last night, mine wouldn’t be so sensitive this morning.”
His eyes widened as the meaning of her words gradually registered with him and a dull red color spread up his neck and face. Then he laughed and continued to chuckle to himself as they descended the great stairs to begin their journey to be married.
* * *
A large crowd surrounded the church when they arrived. Cate recognized Connor’s family, and a few of the people from Dun Ard, but for the most part, the people blended together in a sea of faces as she and Connor approached the minister waiting for them outside the church. Her heart beat so loudly she was surprised the clergyman couldn’t hear it from where he stood.
The wedding ceremony took place outside on the steps at the door of the chapel. The mist cleared and the sun shone brightly, burning away the gray clouds. The ceremony itself was a blur. For the most part, she only remembered staring into Connor’s eyes the entire time.
Except for the rings. Cate knew that wedding rings weren’t part and parcel of medieval weddings, so she hadn’t expected them to be part of hers. But they were.
Connor gently lifted her hand and placed a heavy gold ring upon her finger. Turning her hand over, he laid a larger gold band in the center of her palm. He then extended his hand and waited for her to place that ring upon his finger. She did so with trembling hands. The look on his face at that moment would stay in her memory forever.
He smiled at her then, gripping her hand tightly through the rest of the ceremony, which was over before she knew it. Yelling and cheering erupted all around them as they turned and went to find his horse.
When Connor suddenly dropped to his knee, she immediately knew the man in front of them must be King Alexander III. She did her best curtsy and bowed her head, but couldn’t resist a peek up to see the man.
The king pulled Connor to his feet; dragging him close and clasping him in a great hug, he pounded him on the back. He was shorter than Connor and much younger than she had expected, his looks made even younger by a broad smile and his dark hair falling just short of his shoulders.
“Weel done, MacKiernan. Verra weel done. She’s lovely.”
“Thank you, yer highness.” Connor bowed his head.
“Let’s have a look.” Taking her hand in one of his, Alexander lifted her chin with his forefinger and, with great enthusiasm, loudly pronounced her a “bonnie wee lassie fit for his own brave knight” to everyone present.
To which the crowd cheered wildly again.
The king turned back, still holding Cate’s hand, which he passed over to Connor.
“No doubt she’ll give you many a braw lad.” He then laughed. “And since I’ve also no doubt you’ll no want to return to my service with this one waiting at yer hearth, I’ll expect you to raise a new batch of MacKiernan warriors to serve my son, Alexander.”
Everyone shouted and laughed as the king once again slapped Connor on the back and made his way through the crowd, surrounded by the attendants who accompanied him.
Connor lifted Cate up onto his horse and settled her close to him as they joined in the large procession of people all heading up the hill toward Dun Ard. He held her clasped tightly to him, but said nothing as they rode.
The music of the pipers and flutes and drummers floated down to them before they actually reached the castle. Long tables of food were set out in the courtyard, already filling with the villagers and crofters who were joining them for the day of celebration. People who were dancing in the open spaces between the tables lifted their cups in toast to the couple as they passed by. They stopped often to receive the greetings and good wishes of the people gathered there.
Still more musicians played inside the castle. The king, rather than Artair, sat at the center of the long table on the dais this day. Artair was seated on one side of the king and Connor was placed on the other, with Cate next to him.
She was unable to locate Rosalyn, but did notice Blane sitting a few chairs down from his father. As before, he watched her with an intensity she found unnerving. The one time their eyes met, he bowed his head slightly and lifted his cup in acknowledgment. Cate quickly looked away.
Lyall came up from one of the tables below the dais where he was seated, bowing low over her hand before kissing it. He offered congratulations to Connor, who’d risen from his seat when Lyall had taken her hand. They hugged and pounded on each other’s backs. It was such a classic demonstration of testosterone-filled goodwill, Cate almost expected to see high fives.
Lyall had been looking for Mairi and wondered if they knew where she was. Only then did it occur to Cate that she hadn’t seen the girl since their arrival at the church for the wedding ceremony. Connor mumbled something about her having run off to find shoes. Cate hoped the king hadn’t seen her
shoeless yet or her new sister would be most upset.
Even in the midst of so many strangers, there were several men who caught Cate’s attention as they hovered near the dais. These were large men, with hard eyes. They reminded her of the men who worked with her brothers. Many of them were introduced to her as they stopped to exchange quiet greetings with Connor. She could easily imagine him being one of their number. More than likely, they were the king’s bodyguards. And, more than likely, if this were anyone else’s wedding, Connor would have been one of those milling about the dais keeping watch over his king.
* * *
Connor felt himself on full alert, unable to relax even for a moment. After so many years, he felt almost vulnerable without Duncan at his back, but his old friend had his own task to accomplish this day. Still, there were others here, men he trusted and could depend on if need be.
He constantly scanned the crowds, wondering if they’d make another attempt on Cate’s life today. He’d not allow her out of his sight for even a moment. He’d not make it easy for them.
She sat next to him, quietly picking at the food on her plate.
It had cost him dearly, chipped away at his pride, to ask her to remove the ring she wore. Richard’s ring. Even now he felt the weight of it in his sporran.
When she’d taken it off and handed it to him, her tears had only confirmed what he should have remembered all along. She belonged to another man, a man of wealth and power that she’d chosen. Just like his mother, just like Anabella.
And what they had very nearly shared last night did nothing to change that. He had regained control of his traitorous body in time. Now they were wed. Very soon she’d be gone; no more Cate, no more temptation. He had only to keep her safe until then and his duty to her would be fulfilled.
* * *
The festivities lasted late into the evening hours and Cate was feeling the effects of having had so little sleep the prior night by the time Artair approached them.
Connor stood and nodded his head in greeting. “Uncle.”
“Nephew. I think it’s past time yer bride met some of my guests.”
The older man held his hand out toward her, but Connor inserted himself between them and took her hand himself, assisting her to stand.
“She’ll go nowhere this day without me in attendance.”
“Nowhere?” Anabella had approached unnoticed, and now clutched at Artair’s arm, favoring them with her sickly sweet smile. As usual, her tone was belittling. “Surely you’ll allow her some privacy, Connor. No even to the garderobe without you?”
“Nowhere,” he responded firmly. “No even the garderobe without me.” Connor smiled, although his eyes narrowed and there was no humor in his look. “No on this day.”
He turned to his uncle, Cate’s arm securely tucked into his own. “Lead the way, Uncle. We’ll meet yer guests together.”
“Verra weel, if you insist.” Artair didn’t seem particularly pleased. His eyes glittered strangely.
Artair led them to an enormous man Cate had noticed earlier in the evening, sitting at a table near the dais. He had long, wild red hair that appeared to tangle with his long red beard. Both were streaked liberally with gray. Ale dribbled down that beard now to join food left there at some earlier time. The smell of unwashed bodies hit Cate hard as they approached.
The man slammed his tankard to the table when he looked up and saw them. “High time you brought the wench to me for inspection. Give the MacPherson a kiss, lassie,” he shouted to the accompanying hoots and laughter at his table. He reached for Cate, but was stopped by a strong hand on his wrist.
“I think no, MacPherson. No one will be putting a hand on my bride this day but me, and certainly she’ll be kissing no one else.”
Connor’s eyes held the same dangerous glint as those of the men roaming behind the table on the dais, one of whom joined them even now.
“Is this a friend of yers then, MacKiernan?” The man who’d been introduced to Cate as Robert leaned into their group and smiled, a hard tight look that made Cate shiver.
Still holding the large man’s wrist, Connor made introductions. “This is the MacPherson, laird of the Clan MacPherson. And this is Robert MacQuarrie, one of the king’s guardsmen and a man I do call friend.” He let the wrist go, pushing Cate behind him, and smiled in a way that reminded Cate of a bullfighter waving the red flag.
The MacPherson jerked his hand away, his face purpled with rage. He stood, knocking several plates from the table in the process of hefting his bulk. He turned to Artair, who shrank from the man’s fury.
“We’re done with yer festivities, MacKiernan. Dinna forget what you owe me. I’ll give you to her birthday and no a moment longer. Then I come to claim it. Or take it out of yer hide.” He spit at Artair’s feet and stomped out.
The majority of the men at the table rose and left with him, all grumbling and pushing their way through the hall with unnecessary roughness. Artair stared after them for a moment, as if stunned, and then hurried away in the opposite direction.
Robert chuckled. “Weel, that should save some damage to the pantry, losing that group.”
Connor smiled, a genuine smile this time, placing his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I dinna need yer help, Robbie, you ken? But I was glad to hae it all the same.”
“Aye, weel. I ken you did no need me, but Alexander worries like a mother hen at times. What’s a man to do? I go where my king sends me.”
Both men laughed at some shared joke. Robert bowed to Cate and backed away.
“That was the MacPherson? That fat, disgusting old man is the one Artair wants to give Mairi to?” She couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
“Aye, that’s the man. But dinna fash yerself over it. That will no be happening now, thanks to you. Artair will hae to find some way to pay his debts other than with my sister.”
He pulled her close then and whispered in her ear, his breath sending shivers all over her body. “We should try to make our escape now. Everyone will be busy with what’s just happened and we may have a chance to sneak away if they’re distracted by the fuss the MacPhersons are making as they go.” He looked grim as they started out the door.
“I don’t understand. Why would we need to sneak away?”
“Och, Christ, it’s too late,” he murmured, tightening his grip on her as he looked out the door. “I’m sorry, Caty, I’d hoped to save you this.” He uttered the last just as a laughing, cheering crowd of people mobbed them.
Both of them were lifted bodily off the ground, carried outside and tossed into the back of a straw-filled cart. Connor’s horse was tied to the back and people, some on horseback, some on foot, swarmed around the cart as it started through the courtyard. Another cart, carrying musicians, followed lending accompaniment to the crowd, many of whom were singing, all of whom were in high spirits.
“What’s going on here? Where are they taking us?” Cate was forced to yell to make herself heard over the noise.
The cart rolled over a particularly large rut and she was thrown face-first into his lap.
“Here, here. None of that, lassie. You’ll wait till we get you to the castle,” an old man yelled from the back of a horse riding next to the cart. The crowd nearest him roared with laughter.
Connor grinned sheepishly as he helped her to sit up. “They’re escorting us to the bedding. The celebration lasts until the marriage is consummated.” At her look of horror, he laughed out loud. “Dinna look so terrified, wee Caty. I’d no let them watch.”
She stared at him in disbelief. The man was actually laughing, like he was enjoying this insanity as much as all these people.
His laughter faded to a seductive smile and he rose to his knees. Taking her by her arms, he pulled her to him and stared down into her eyes for only a moment before he slanted his lips over hers.
She dissolved into his arms, her concerns melting away. His tongue danced with hers and she could think of nothing but him and the way she knew hi
s hands would feel on her body.
He tightened his hold, one hand sliding under her hair to grasp her neck, deepening the kiss. At his touch, even the raucous sounds of the laughter and the cheering disappeared, blocked from her mind.
In that moment, there was nothing in her world but Connor and his body next to hers.
CHAPTER 21
Their arrival at Sithean Fardach was unnerving, to say the least.
When Connor had told her the crowd was escorting them to their bedding, he hadn’t been exaggerating at all. It appeared these people planned to do exactly that. The boisterous mob carrying them surged into the main hall and up the spiral stairs.
Only at the door to the bedroom did Connor finally take charge of the situation. The bottleneck afforded by the narrow staircase made their escape possible.
At last the two of them were behind closed doors, but the mob still roamed the castle and the courtyard below, musicians playing loudly to accompany the still singing, partying crowd.
Connor locked the door, pushing heavy furniture in front of it to keep any particularly enthusiastic revelers out. He knelt by the fireplace, adding wood to the small fire, trying to drive the chill from the room.
Rising from his position by the fire, he moved to where she stood and ran his hands up and down her arms in an effort to warm her.
“Yer safe, wee Caty. Dinna be afraid.” He pulled her to him, running his hands up and down her back.
“I’m not afraid. Much.”
She leaned back to get a good look at his face and almost wished she hadn’t. God, the man was gorgeous, even with that imperious look he assumed now, arching his eyebrow as he so frequently did.
“Then yer shivering must be from the cold. Where’s yer cloak?” He looked around the room.
“Downstairs. I guess your hands were too full last night to bring it along when you delivered me here.”
He looked embarrassed for a moment.
“Weel then, downstairs it’ll hae to stay. I’m no opening that door for anything and dealing with that lot again.”
Thirty Nights With a Highland Husband Page 19