by Carmen Caine
When she turned her attention back to her uncle, his barely concealed glee worried her. Finally he replied, “Yes, Katherine, my darling, we have received a missive from the king and it concerns you.”
This is definitely not good. She carefully kept her emotions masked. “Me?” she asked calmly.
“Yes, my sweet. This is Niall MacIan, Laird of Clan MacIan.” He gestured to the angry warrior she had eyed. “And the commander of his guard, Diarmad. Our king has requested that you become Laird MacIan’s wife.”
Katherine took a breath and, with supreme will, continued to appear calm and emotionless.
“Requested that I become his wife?” she asked slowly.
“Of course it is a request.”
“I can decline this request?
“Certainly you can, Katherine. However, His Majesty says if you choose to decline, it is in your best interest, and the best interests of Clan Ruthven, for me to be named Lord Ruthven and for you to enter the religious life.”
“And what happens to Cotharach and my people if I accept the proposal?” she asked, a note of panic creeping into her voice.
A look of smug satisfaction crossed her uncle’s face, and he spoke to her as if she were a very dull child.
“Oh, my dear, I have bungled this badly. I will start over and try to help you understand. His Majesty feels it is in the best interests of Clan Ruthven for me to assume control as Lord Ruthven and rule Cotharach. He is giving you two options. The one His Majesty prefers is for you to marry Laird MacIan and go with him to his home in the Highlands. As your husband, Laird MacIan will renounce his claim to your title and lands. In return, he will receive an exceedingly generous dowry. However, if this is not acceptable, you may choose to enter the religious life. The good sisters will receive a modest dowry, but His Majesty has determined that Laird MacIan will still receive the bulk of your dowry, because of his willingness to aid his king in this matter. Does that make it clear, my dear?”
Katherine trembled, feeling as if she had descended into swirling chaos. Trying not to reveal her inner turmoil, which would only add to his pleasure, she bowed her head and whispered, “Aye, Uncle. I understand.”
After a moment, she looked directly into the eyes of each of the three men staring at her. In Uncle Ambrose’s expression she read joy, in Diarmad’s pity, and in Laird MacIan’s iron determination. She wanted to run—she needed to think.
Her uncle prodded, “Well, my dearest Katherine, which will it be?”
“You want a decision now? Am I to be given no time to consider?”
In a colder, less unctuous voice, her uncle declared, “You must choose now. You can leave for the convent within the hour or, if you choose marriage, we will summon Father James and you can be married as soon as he arrives. Laird MacIan is anxious to return to the Highlands, so he wishes to depart immediately after you plight your troth to one another. Either way, you leave today.”
Katherine knew her uncle had won, she just didn’t know how he had done it. From the day her father died, Ambrose had wanted the title and lands that were to be held in reserve for her husband. How had this Highlander been convinced to marry her and relinquish all but a portion of her wealth? But the convent? She didn’t relish either option. Finally she said flatly, “I will marry.”
“Very well, I will send for Father James.”
As Katherine turned to leave, her uncle demanded, “Where are you going?”
She glanced down at the old gown she generally wore when working and realized the absurdity of this situation. She lifted her head and stared at him. “For the next few minutes at least, Uncle, I am Lady Katherine Ruthven. This is my keep. I am going to pack my things and dress for my wedding.”
She turned again to leave the great hall, and for the first time, she heard her betrothed’s voice. “Lass, one bag is all ye’ll be bringing.”
She nodded and quietly said, “Aye, Laird,” before leaving. Katherine paused at the bottom of the steps and waited for the messenger Uncle Ambrose would be sending to the priest. Stopping him before he left the keep, she asked him to deliver an additional message on his way. Then she climbed the stairs to her chambers.
~ * ~
Being already in a foul mood by the time he arrived at Cotharach Castle, Niall MacIan’s temperament only worsened at the enforced wait for the Lady Katherine to appear where he stood with her unpleasant uncle. When MacIan saw a servant enter the great hall instead of Lady Katherine, he reached his breaking point. He could not believe his ears when this servant addressed Ruthven as Uncle Ambrose. The lovely lass couldn’t be the one whispered about in Edinburgh Castle. Yet Sir Ruthven’s response indicated that this, indeed, was she. He stared boldly at her, taking in her honey-colored hair and small, willowy frame. The faded gown she wore revealed softly curving hips and full breasts.
Niall could only watch, speechless, as her uncle toyed with her like a cat with a mouse. At first she had appeared poised and impassive, but it didn’t take long for her mask to slip. He heard the panic rise in her voice, but surely she didn’t expect him to believe she was only concerned for her people? If she intended to manipulate his feelings by faking compassion, she would soon realize her folly.
Still, when she captured his gaze for a moment, it shocked Niall to see the fear and confusion in the green depths of her eyes. From out of nowhere, he felt a powerful urge to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he refused to give in to that weakness. Still, while Lady Katherine was likely the same faithless, self-absorbed creature he believed all women to be, at that moment he wanted to crush Ruthven for being an insensitive, manipulative cur.
Feeling it necessary to shake his unwelcome response towards her apparent vulnerability, and also determined to clearly establish his authority after her momentary show of spirit as she turned to leave them behind and ‘dress for her wedding.’ Before she disappeared, he spoke. “Lass, one bag is all ye’ll be bringing.” She immediately became the meek, subservient lass who had first walked into the hall. Although it was what he intended, for some reason he found it disconcerting.
~ * ~
Upon entering her chamber, Katherine found her maid, Emma, waiting. “I guess good news travels fast,” she said bitterly,
“Oh, my lady, what is going to happen to ye? Those Highlanders are huge. Ye’ll be killed for sure.” With that dire prediction, Emma burst into tears.
Katherine put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Don’t worry so, Emma. This is what the king wants and I will do it. Everything will be fine.” Dear God, she hoped with every fiber of her being that everything would be fine, but she doubted it herself.
“There isn’t much time and I need your help to get ready,” she said, hoping to get her distraught maid to concentrate. Even with the unusually warm day, Katherine would have given anything to slip into a warm, relaxing bath and attempt to come to terms with things, but she didn’t have time. Instead, with a few buckets of cold water, she refreshed herself with a quick wash. Emma helped her dress in a fresh white linen kirtle under her best deep blue linen gown, the neck, cuffs, and sleeves of which Katherine had embroidered with delicate, pale blue forget-me-nots like those growing near the loch by which Cotharach stood. Around her waist she fastened a gold belt that dropped low on her hips and she slipped on soft leather shoes. Emma unbraided and combed her lady’s hair, letting the mass of honey colored curls fall down Katherine’s back.
“I always thought your wedding would be a great event,” Emma said as she gathered Katherine’s things to pack. “We would have two things to celebrate—not only your wedding, but being well rid of your uncle, too.”
Funny, thought Katherine, at almost twenty, well past the age most noblewomen married, she had never given her wedding any thought. However, even if she had given in to such musings, she never would have imagined the one that awaited her. She smiled at her maid and said, “Well, at least we haven’t had ages to worry about it,” at which Emma burst into fresh tears.
When Emma’s tears stopped, Katherine helped her finish the packing. “I am to only bring one bag,” she said with mock sternness, making the maid giggle.
“Oh, my,” Emma said, in the same mocking tone. “How will you ever decide what to pack?”
Although very wealthy, Katherine had few belongings worth taking. Uncle Ambrose had confiscated all her jewelry and anything else of real value, ostensibly to safe-guard it. He only provided her with necessities—“to protect her from the sin of vanity”—so she took very good care of the few worn, faded garments she owned. She selected two white linen kirtles and the two least shabby of her gowns: a gold one made of soft light wool and a heavier, dark green one. Although the summer days had been very warm, she knew they were traveling north to the Highlands, where even in summer the nights might be cold, so she packed a woolen mantle, too. She removed the most important items from her sewing basket, rolled them in a short length of linen, and tucked it into the bag. This left room for several shifts; some linen toweling; the leather bag containing a small supply of healing herbs and other ingredients for potions, balms, and poultices; and her one luxury, a cake of sweet smelling soap imported from Spain. Finally she packed the only belongings holding any sentimental significance to her: her mother’s ivory comb and her father’s jeweled dagger.
“I suppose I’m ready,” she said to Emma.
“Go on, then. I’ll carry your things down.”
“Emma, I might not get to see you again before I leave. I may not be able to say farewell to anybody. Please tell everyone I will miss them and I will keep you all in my prayers. Take care of yourself, Emma, and stay out of my uncle’s way.” Before Emma had a chance to burst into tears again, Katherine gave her a quick hug and left.
~ * ~
After finalizing the business agreements relating to the marriage, Niall and Diarmad waited in the great hall with Ambrose Ruthven while Lady Katherine readied herself. Eventually Niall had to turn his back to stare into the cold hearth because he couldn’t stand seeing Ruthven’s barely contained joy. The greedy bastard’s pleasure sickened Niall, yet he couldn’t deny feeling a certain amount of disgust at himself as well. It took a very desperate man to accept this betrothal. Niall had been beyond desperate. He had no funds to pay even the interest on the crushing debt Clan MacIan held. He had journeyed to Edinburgh to request financial help from the king, only to learn King David II had a significant debt of his own. He owed King Edward III of England a colossal ransom—one hundred thousand marks sterling, with ten thousand marks due yearly on the nativity of St. John the Baptist. Apparently he had no compunction about bartering royal favor for coin, and clearly Ruthven had purchased such favor, inadvertently providing the solution to Niall’s problem as well.
Niall had to admit Ruthven’s attempts to deter his niece’s suitors were particularly effective. He remembered his stepmother’s unpleasant reaction when she learned of his pending marriage.
“Niall,” she had said, “I have heard about this creature you plan to wed. My poor boy, it must be humiliating to know this is the best you can do. Why I have heard, from people who know, mind you, not only is she brainless, but she is practically an ogre. They say she even has fits, and is a hunchback.” When he failed to respond to Eithne’s barbs, she added, “Well, hopefully your brother will find a more suitable wife. He is so good-natured and handsome, we will be able to have a proper wedding. Perhaps he will give me grandchildren of whom I can be proud.”
Even the king believed he might be saving Katherine from the humiliation of remaining unattached if he ordered her to enter a convent, leaving Ambrose with everything. He had all but agreed to do so until Niall approached him for aid. Niall assumed after seven years in exile and eleven more held captive for ransom, albeit not in depravation, the king would have some qualms about forcing a young woman into a cloister. Evidently, he had no qualms about marrying her to a financially desperate Highland Laird, who would trade her title and lands for a larger dowry in coin. Why was it, for men like Ruthven, problems had a way of disappearing if the man threw enough money at them?
As the silence grew heavy, Niall turned back around. He was pleased to see the happiness originally written on Ruthven’s face replaced with consternation. Perhaps he was questioning the wisdom of giving his niece away to a complete stranger.
With Niall’s attention on him once again, Ruthven cleared his throat a little to break the silence, then said, “Ahem...uh, Laird MacIan, it occurs to me that you and my sweet, gentle niece will be traveling for several days to reach your home, and will likely be sleeping out of doors.”
Niall arched an eyebrow and gave a slight nod, disdain etched on his features. “Yes. Well, you understand that my dear Katherine is of course innocent and might appreciate privacy.” A wiser man would have taken heed of the rising fury on the Highlander’s face, but Ambrose charged on. “I think it would be best if you wait until you reach your home to...consummate your marriage.”
“Sir, would ye willingly marry your niece to a man without honor?” Laird MacIan said with menace.
“N—no, of course not,” Ruthven stammered.
“Then ye can be assured I do not need ye to school me in decency!” he roared.
~ * ~
When she returned to the great hall, Katherine saw her uncle sitting in his upholstered chair looking oddly uncomfortable. Both Highlanders stood silently by the hearth. Father James had arrived and even his chatter about the weather and crops didn’t lessen the tension in the room. He was the first to notice her as she slipped quietly into the large room. He stopped mid-sentence, proclaiming, “My lady, you are radiant.”
Laird MacIan looked up and practically gawked at the sight of her. Katherine had dressed like the noblewoman she was, instead of as a servant. The gown she wore clung to her, revealing her womanly curves, and her hair, released from its braid, shimmered around her shoulders like a golden brown cloud.
After registering Laird MacIan’s look of awe, she kept her eyes cast down so he couldn’t read the fear on her face, but she was sure no one could miss the way her hands trembled.
“Well, we have a wedding to perform,” Father James said, motioning to the door of the great hall “Shall we go to the chapel?”
News of the wedding had spread through Cotharach and its village like a brushfire. Now, in addition to the Highland warriors, the staff at Cotharach and many villagers gathered in the courtyard to witness Lady Ruthven’s marriage. The ceremony began outside the chapel with Father James asking the assembly if anyone knew of any reason why Laird Niall and Lady Katherine could not be married. Although no one spoke, a million reasons flew through Katherine’s mind. The priest continued, “Niall MacIan, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife? Wilt thou love her, and honor her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, and forsaking all others on account of her, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”
She heard Niall answer, “I will,” his voice deep and melodic.
Katherine felt strangely detached as she heard the priest ask for her assent. “I will,” she answered, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. This isn’t a nightmare, it’s really happening, and it is forever.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
“I do,” answered Ambrose as he stepped away.
Katherine could all but hear him thinking and good riddance.
The couple then made their vows of marriage. After Katherine said, “And thereto I plight thee my troth,” Father James took the ring Niall gave him, blessed it, and returned it to Niall, who placed it on the third finger of Katherine’s left hand. She had always heard a vein ran directly from this finger to the heart and for this reason a wedding band was worn there as a symbol of love. It seemed slightly ridiculous to Katherine, given she had only just met the man who placed it there.
Father blessed the couple and led them into the chapel, followed by Diarmad and Ambrose.
The bride and groom knelt before the altar while the priest prayed again. Kneeling beside her new husband, Katherine felt very small; the top of her head didn’t reach his shoulder.
There would not be a nuptial Mass, so after the prayers, Father James gave them a final blessing. When he had finished, he beamed warmly and said, “You may kiss the bride.” Niall tipped her chin up and kissed her. She had expected he would give her only a chaste peck, but once he started, she was amazed by how warm and soft his lips felt and that he held her there, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling away. Stunned, she raised her hands to touch her lips. They tingled where his had touched her, and she hadn’t wanted him to stop.
He looked momentarily stunned as well, but rapidly recovered. “Say your goodbyes quickly,” he told her. “We are leaving.”
Her uncle approached and kissed Katherine on both cheeks. “Goodbye, my dear. I can’t tell you how much we will miss you.” He spoke blandly with an insipid expression on his face.
That is because you won’t miss me. She didn’t know why he bothered with the farce, because Laird MacIan had already left the chapel. She managed to say, “Goodbye, Uncle,” civilly.
Lord Ruthven returned to the keep, not bothering to see them off. Father James gave her a hug and Katherine couldn’t suppress a wince.
Father looked concerned and asked, “Katherine, dear, will you be all right? Perhaps you should tell your new husband about your back. You have a long journey ahead.”
“No Father. Please don’t say anything. Nothing good can come from telling him that now. I’ll be fine.”
He shook his head but didn’t argue, and taking her arm, walked with her into the courtyard, saying, “Katherine, I’m certain you will be a wonderful wife and mother.”
She loved the old priest, so she smiled and teased, “How do you know I’ll be a wonderful wife; you’ve never been married.”