“When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. I doona want ye going, Mother,” Cameron said, turning from the window. He saw her collecting his things. “I can gather my own belongings for the journey, Mother.”
Her cheeks dimpled, and her eyes filled with humor. “So that ye can take a dirty strip of plaid and nay be presentable?” She sucked her teeth and shook her head. “I am going and that’s all I’m hearing about this issue. I will welcome my new daughter into the family,” Alice said optimistically.
“Ye’d be the only one. All Englishwomen are aristocratic elitists in need of sound discipline.”
“Cameron! When did ye become so cynical?”
“Very early in life, Mother, when I realized what bastards the English are, and when they nearly caused the downfall of this family.”
Alice was pensive for a moment in quiet remembrance. Sadness slipped over her features but she quickly put it aside.
“This will be a good marriage, Cameron,” she said in a no-nonsense kind of voice. “Ye’ll have yer baby, of that I’m certain.” Her face glowed as she looked at her oldest son.
He gave her an intent stare.
“I can only hope, Mother, but I believe ye’re wrong.”
It was such an odd feeling for Cameron. It was difficult to believe that his only hope for a child rested with an Englishwoman.
Life was damned ironic.
The next day, they began the journey to the Wexford holding. Patrick, Cameron’s cousin, stayed in command since both Keith and Aidan rode with Cameron. It was expected that the laird’s family would be present to witness the marriage, as much as he didn’t want them to go. Catherine, the oldest daughter, would be attending, but Frances, the youngest, was due to give birth soon and wasn’t allowed to travel.
That afternoon, Cameron would be married. He wondered what she looked like, although, he admitted to himself, he didn’t care if she was horribly ugly. If this bride gave him a son or a daughter, she could bear a striking resemblance to a wild boar and he wouldn’t care.
The ride wasn’t a long one since their lands were on the border. Wexford’s holding was a half day’s ride on horseback from the border and sat on the English side.
Once the party arrived, they were greeted and shown their rooms. Cameron didn’t spend long there, preferring to get the damned ceremony over with. He went searching the grounds, not liking the solitude of his chamber. Walking, he came across a room where many were gathered. Some of his own warriors were there and he saw the rage on their faces. He marched over to them, curious to know why they were upset.
“Do not anger me again. She will come with me now, Diane!” Haynsworth said in a loud whisper. The room was quiet as several attendants witnessed the spectacle.
In the center of the commotion was Cameron’s rival. He saw Haynsworth slap his wife when she pleaded with him again.
“Damn it, Diane, do not disobey me! Look at her appearance. She is completely unkempt and she is not appropriate for public viewing!” Haynsworth hissed. “Let’s go, daughter. Tidy up!”
The woman he spoke about just kept rocking herself and humming. Cameron wondered what had been transpiring. Then he saw Haynsworth draw his hand back to slap the young girl.
“Doona lay a finger on her, Haynsworth,” Cameron said with deadly calm from behind.
Haynsworth turned and saw Cameron.
“Do not mettle with family affairs, Scot. What are you doing here?” Haynsworth narrowed his eyes.
“The question meriting answering, Haynsworth, is what ye’re doing here?” His voice was cold as the ice running through his veins at seeing his enemy before him.
“I am here for the wedding,” he replied, dancing around the subject.
“Doona attempt to strike a woman while in my presence, Haynsworth.”
“Who do you think you are, MacPherson?”
Abby’s head turned slightly at the mentioned name, but continued to rock herself.
“Haynsworth, doona question me. I’ll nay answer to ye or anyone else. I’ve issued ye a fair warning. Doona strike a woman when I’m present, or ‘twill be yer children who become fatherless.” His eyes flared with rage.
“If you’re going to accuse me of something, Scot, then do it!” Haynsworth shouted.
“I doona accuse, Haynsworth, I destroy.” Cameron looked down at him with disgust. Although Haynsworth was tall by an Englishman’s standard, he was not by a Scot’s. Cameron stood more than a head taller than him.
“Come, darling, it’s all right. Come with Mama,” Diane said to her daughter. Abby stood up, her hair in disarray. She quickly glanced over in Cameron’s direction but it was too brief for either Cameron or Abby to see one another.
Haynsworth grabbed Abby’s hand and Abby whimpered loudly, shrugging it off. It became obvious to Cameron that the girl was scared of her own father.
“I’ll take her, John,” Diane said, soothingly patting Abby’s back and led her away.
“Stay out of my affairs, MacPherson. I don’t know why of all the loathsome Scots bastards in this world you are here, but I’ll find out and have you forcibly removed.”
Cameron pinned Haynsworth down with a stare.
“Yer meager threats do nothing to me, Haynsworth,” Cameron said in a hard voice. Keith quickly came over and took Cameron away.
“We’ve things to discuss, Cameron. Come.”
Cameron’s eyes remained trained on Haynsworth as he turned to leave.
“Leave it be, Cameron. There’s no substantiation,” Keith said, his hand on Cameron’s arm in a light restraint.
“He killed Da and I will kill him,” Cameron said vehemently.
“There’s no confirmation, Cameron. It’s been years.”
“I tire of Alexander’s schemes to strengthen the relationships with England. Father was killed when Alexander requested that he go to Haynsworth under a flag of truce. Alexander wanted the families to settle all disputes and have a peace agreement. Now I’m the sacrificial lamb ordered to marry an unknown Englishwoman. My fury grows twofold every day,” Cameron said heatedly.
“What if it wasna Haynsworth, Cameron? Have ye thought about that possibility?”
“It was him Keith and doona try to calm my fury by presenting the possibility of a different murderer, for well ye know it was Haynsworth. I’ll confirm what I know to be truth and take revenge into my hands. I’ll nay die believing that our father was robbed and murdered by border raiders. He rode with many men that day. Father was not a novice with the sword. Nay, Father died because Haynsworth ambushed him, knowing that he was on a truce mission.”
Keith let a couple of moments pass before addressing the dreaded topic.
“The day grows late, Cameron. ‘Tis high time ye got yerself prepared. There’s a wedding to attend, and ‘tis yers,” Keith said laughing. He slapped Cameron’s back.
“‘Tis more like my funeral. I’d rather attend my own hanging,” Cameron said and both men left the room.
Chapter Four
“Cameron, I’ve news!” Catherine shouted, hurrying in.
It was time for the wedding.
“What is it?” he asked, turning as both Catherine and Amy rushed over to him. Catherine grabbed his forearm while she bent over to catch her breath. She held up a finger and gave a half smile, as she took in big gulps of air.
“Do ye know what she speaks of, Amy?”
Amy nodded. “Cameron, we have information on yer bride!” He didn’t miss the note of alarm in her voice. Cameron didn’t think he wanted to know.
“Are ye nay interested?” Catherine asked when he looked bored.
“I have to marry her anyway. What are ye going to tell me? She’s unpleasant to look upon? She has a wart on her nose, crooked yellow teeth, and has given to roundness in the middle?”
Catherine and Amy exchanged a look.
“Nay, much worse, Cameron.”
The look on their faces now caught his attention.
&nb
sp; “What could be worse than that?” Keith asked as he and Aidan came over.
“She’s mute!” Catherine explained.
“And that’s nay all,” Amy said, hurriedly.
“What else, then?” Aidan asked, looking over at Cameron.
“Her mind is broken!”
“What d’ye mean her mind is broken, Catherine?” Aidan asked, exasperated.
“I’m meaning she’s mad! That her mind is broken. She’s in a different far away land in her mind!” Catherine said frantically.
“What are ye talking about? How do ye know this?” Keith asked his wife.
“We were in a group speaking with other women. Englishwomen. Women gossip and they began talking about Cameron’s bride. They didna mention her name, but they only referred to her as “the bride” and said that she was mute and that her mind was damaged!” Amy explained.
Everyone looked to Cameron.
“What will ye do?” Catherine asked him.
Cameron shrugged.
“Alexander means to have this marriage.”
“Ye’re awfully calm about this,” Catherine said, her gray eyes mirroring her worry.
Cameron shrugged again.
“In a year’s time, the marriage will be annulled. When no heir is produced, she will nay longer be my wife.”
“Ye’re verra certain of that.” Catherine’s eyes looked over her brother in concern.
“A child will come of this union,” Alice said, stepping towards the group.
“Mother, did ye hear? She’s mute and of unsound mind!” Catherine repeated slowly, knowing full well her mother had heard.
Alice smiled.
“All will be well. I trust in the Lord. I have a good feeling about this marriage. Yer father will protect ye all,” Alice said, looking at her children.
“Honestly, Mother, ye sound like ye’re the one with a broken mind, speaking as ye do,” Aidan said.
Alice shook her head.
“In my heart, I know that everything will be for the best.”
Alice’s soft brown eyes lovingly looked at her family. Her brown hair was giving into gray. Though she was a petite woman, she bore her husband five children. Her sixth child had been stillborn. The bairn would have been their fourth son.
“Let us go now. They await ye, Cameron,” she said and ushered them into the room where the wedding would take place.
The room was not very adorned. The flowers were sparse and the candles were few. Rows of chairs filled the space and guests were seated to witness history in the making- the unification of two rivaling families.
Only no one knew that yet.
Cameron stood at the head of the makeshift altar. He saw the MacPhersons seated to his left, and other guests he didn’t recognize, sat to his right. The cleric stood in front of Cameron, waiting for the bride to appear.
Cameron looked bored. He had been shocked to hear Catherine’s news but it was all said and done. He just wanted the ceremony to be over so that he could get on with his life. Although he didn’t want the hassle of having a wife, he figured a year would pass in quick enough time.
He heard the door creak open. The humming reached his ears next. Cameron looked behind him and his anger flared.
Haynsworth was walking his daughter in. It looked as if he didn’t have his way about her grooming, for her blond hair seemed more unkempt now than before. She wore a boring, plain beige dress. Haynsworth was fairly dragging her around the seated guests, trying to lead her to the front of the room.
“Damn it, girl, walk faster! I should have let your mother walk you in!”
She hummed louder. Cameron figured the more frightened she was, the louder she hummed.
He continued to study the pair, thinking something was amiss. Cameron didn’t quite understand and then it dawned on him.
“Dear Lord,” Cameron whispered in shock.
Keith and Aidan peered at Cameron and looked to their right.
“Damn,” Keith swore under his breath.
Haynsworth stopped fighting with Abby long enough to look to the front of the room. He stopped cold.
“What is the meaning of this?” His face was red.
Abby started yelling from fright. She placed her hands over her ears and shook her head as she cried. Diane hastily went to her. Once she was near, Abby quieted.
Haynsworth was not calming down, however. He rushed forward.
“What are you doing here, Scot?” he grated out.
Cameron managed his first genuine smile of the day.
“I am the groom.”
“You planned this, didn’t you?” Haynsworth asked in a shout.
Cameron’s smile melted off his face as his eyes hardened to cold storm clouds.
“If I had a choice in a wife, it wouldna be one spawned from yer loins, Haynsworth.” His silver eyes sparked with irritation.
“I will not allow my daughter to marry a Scot.” Haynsworth looked Cameron over. “Much less this one!”
A soldier stepped forward. He was tall and mechanical in his walk. He had dark brown hair and serious blue eyes. Everyone settled down to listen to what he had to say.
“Who are you?” Haynsworth rudely asked.
The man glared at Haynsworth.
“I am here to make certain that this wedding is seen through. You will not impede it. And I have an army to see to it that I am right.” He looked at Diane, who understood the silent command, and returned to her seat.
Haynsworth looked at the seriousness evident on the man’s face and backed down.
“Get your daughter, Haynsworth. The wedding should have started already,” the man said and returned to his chair.
Haynsworth looked over to where the man sat. Numerous soldiers sat around him and even Haynsworth knew that protesting the wedding would be futile. He walked over to Abby and she began whimpering loudly.
“Shut your mouth! Let’s go,” he snapped and grabbed her arm harshly. She cried out in obvious distress and fear.
Cameron stayed where he was, witnessing Haynsworth with his daughter. Her hair was disheveled and her dress was rumpled. Dear Lord, was she eccentric? He had stopped Haynsworth from slapping her earlier that day. If he treated her this way in public, he wondered how he treated her at home. By the daughter’s behavior, it was clear that she was terrified of her father.
She refused to move and was crying near to hysteria. Cameron wondered whether she had the capacity to understand that she was about to marry. He supposed that her capacity wasn’t a requisite the Regents or Alexander considered important or necessary.
He saw his bride’s mother rush over to them again.
“Get away, Diane!” Haynsworth said nastily.
“Be patient with her, John! She’s frightened!” Diane shouted in anger.
“She’s afraid of her own shadow!”
“Whose fault is that?” Diane countered. Haynsworth stepped threateningly close to Diane.
The man who had intimidated Haynsworth a moment before cleared his throat. Haynsworth looked up and hastily grabbed Abby, half-dragging her in front of the priest. Abby didn’t stop crying.
The priest cleared his throat, unsure of how to begin.
“We are joined today to witness the marriage between Laird Cameron MacPherson and Lady Abigail Haynsworth. Does anyone here object to the union?” the priest asked and waited for a response. Abby’s head tilted slightly to her right. She was quiet now, and her erratic breathing was beginning to calm.
Although Haynsworth wanted to object, he steadfastly remained quiet when the “enforcer” stared at him.
“Very well. Laird, do you take this woman to be your wife? Do you promise to protect her for the rest of your days?” the priest asked, considerably shortening the vows and preferring these questions to the typical ones, knowing that this was not a love match. By the bride’s behavior, he also thought it best not to prolong the ceremony for fear that her hysterics would begin anew.
“I do,” Cameron v
oice sounded loud and clear. Abby’s head jerked again at the sound of his voice. Cameron thought she was prone to spasms.
Delightful.
“Does anyone speak for Lady Abigail?”
No one spoke or came forward. Haynsworth sat with arms crossed refusing to say a word. He refused to speak for his daughter. He was against this marriage, and although he was prohibited from interfering with it, he would be damned if he would help it along.
“Will anyone speak for Lady Abigail?” the priest asked again, looking around the room. He cleared his throat.
Diane stood up, saying “I will, Father.” Her voice rang out melodiously. Haynsworth grabbed her arm to try to make her sit down but she shrugged it away and approached Abby.
Although Diane hadn’t been in agreement with the wedding, it would happen regardless of her wishes. When she saw that the man Abby would marry was the one who protected her earlier, she felt better about the marriage. In fact, she approved of it. Abby would be better off with this stranger than with her own father. This stranger offered the protection her father never did.
“Do you, Lady Abigail, take this man to be your husband? Do you promise to honor and obey him for the rest of your days?”
“I do,” Diane said, passing her hand through Abby’s tousled hair.
“I now hereby declare and present to you all, Laird and Lady MacPherson. You may now kiss your bride, Laird…eh… should you wish to do so,” the priest hastily added.
Cameron faced the young girl and awkwardly waited. At the mention of his name again, she looked over and saw his red, black, and blue plaid.
Abby started screaming and stepped back into her mother. It was heart wrenching for all watching. She was very afraid, as if she feared someone would kill her.
“It’s all right, darling, I’m here,” Diane said, rubbing her back.
Cameron saw Abby look towards his plaid before she began crying and thought that was odd. Why would his plaid cause her to cry?
“I apologize, Laird MacPherson. She’s usually quite shy and timid,” Diane said apologetically. It wouldn’t do for the laird to know that Abby knew it was his clan who killed her husband on her wedding night.
Forget Me Not, My Scottish Love (Heart of a Highlander Collection Book 3) Page 3