The Unwilling Bride

by Candy-Ann Little

  “She’s right, Cate.” Brogan kissed her on the cheek. “You look beautiful.”

  “I would say breathtaking.” Dillon offered his arm. “Shall we go greet our guests, Mrs. Cade?”

  Her back stiffened at the use of her married name, but now wasn’t the time to discuss it. “Of course, Mr. Cade.” Her cold eyes met his. Slipping her arm through his, they walked up the aisle, ducking the handfuls of grain tossed at them.

  Caitlin smiled compliantly as she met the guests, accepting their compliments and the well spring of good wishes. She seemed the picture perfect bride, hugging and kissing friends and family, showing off the large diamond in her ring, and dutifully standing close to Dillon as he slipped his arm around her slim waist.

  “Oh darling, that was beautiful.” Kathleen hugged Caitlin so tightly she couldn’t breathe. “I cannot believe my baby is married.”

  “I am not a baby anymore,” Caitlin quipped. “And I would not be married if you and Papa hadn’t forced me into it.”

  “Nonetheless, it was a lovely ceremony.” Kathleen dabbed at the tears in her eyes.

  “I have to concur,” Alin interjected. “My little girl has grown into a beautiful young lady.”

  “Oh, Papa.” Caitlin hugged the man that had always been her pillar of strength. Inhaling the smell of musk and cigar smoke that was uniquely her father’s scent helped to bolster some courage to face the rest of the day, “I do not understand any of this.” She cried into the crook of his neck.

  “I know, sweetheart. We will explain everything when the time is right.”

  “I’ve already taken the vows, can you not tell me now?” Salty drops fell from her confused green eyes. She’d submitted to the hasty wedding without any knowledge of the circumstances, trusting only in her parents’ protection. For some odd reason they were transferring that guardianship to Dillon and she wanted to know why.

  Alin wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Later. Right now I want you to enjoy your wedding day.”

  “Like that will happen.” Triumph filled her heart as Dillon stiffened at the remark.

  “It could if you weren’t so stubborn,” Alin scoffed.

  “’Tis your Irish temper I possess.”

  “Aye. I wish you’d gotten more of your mother’s sweet nature.”

  “’Twill have to be enough that I possess her looks.”

  “’Tis enough.” He kissed her cheek and proceeded to shake Dillon’s hand. “Take good care of her.”

  “I will, sir.”

  The guests took their seats at the tables, while Hilda and Martha directed the servants with the food preparations. After Dillon and Caitlin took their place at the head table everyone enjoyed the feast. Caitlin drained her glass of wine during supper and asked for a refill.

  “I did not realize you had a preference for liquor,” Dillon commented.

  “You barely know me, sir. There is a lot you do not realize.”

  “True. However, I’m anxious to find out.” The wrinkles deepened around his eyes as he smiled.

  “Do not be too anxious, my dear.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “There are certain things you will never discover.”

  “Perhaps? Perhaps not?”

  “What do you mean?” Her eyes widened with astonishment. “You agreed that our marriage would be in name only.”

  “Aye, madam. However I have heard that liquor reduces inhibitions.”

  Her red brows arched elegantly. “Do you presume that a few glasses of wine will make me more inclined to accept the invitation to your bed?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “I can tell you truly, sir, the only way you’ll ever have me is by force. No amount of liquor will change that.”

  “Shall we see?” He picked up the bottle to refill her glass.

  Caitlin had never been a drinker and could not argue about the affects it would have on her. Covering the top of her glass she said, “I believe I’ll have to keep my wits if I do not want to be violated by you.”

  His soft laughter mingled with the murmuring of the crowd. “I like a woman who knows her limitations.” He sat the bottle down.

  “’Tis not my limitations that I’m worried about,” she scoffed.

  “I can assure you, madam, that I am aware of my limitations as well.”

  “Is that why you are not drinking?”

  “A man cannot think clearly when his head is muddled with spirits.”

  “’Tis true, however, I believe there are times in life when an unclear head can serve you far better than a clear one.”

  “Such as?”

  “A prisoner being forced into confinement.”

  His thick brows formed a frown.

  “’Twould serve me better not remembering anything from this day,” she continued.

  “Might serve me better too.” He smiled wickedly. “You would not recall anything from the nighttime.”

  “Humph!” Caitlin angled her pointed chin out. “You, sir, are worse than a cad. You’re the devil himself.”

  His lighthearted laughter sparked contempt in Caitlin. She was not amused by this situation and most definitely wouldn’t let him goad her into his wishes.

  “I have decided to have that drink after all.” She obstinately filled her glass then tipped it in a silent salute.

  When dinner ended they cut the bride’s cake and passed it out for everyone to enjoy. The leftover cake was boxed up, ready to be sent home with the bridal party. This tradition usually represented good luck to the newlyweds. However, Caitlin did not think that Brogan, Sarah and her parents could pray hard enough to bring good wishes to this union.

  Next, Dillon threaded a piece of cake through a large ring. The entire group counted out loud as he made it to seven before the cake broke. Applause erupted, but Dillon felt disappointed that he hadn’t made it nine – the magical number for this tradition. Of course, what did it really matter, since it would take more than cake, wishes, and superstitions to help this marriage. It would take the hand of God Almighty himself.

  “Oh, Caitlin, this fruitcake is the best. And the marzipan is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted,” Sarah stated as she dug through the piece of cake on her plate.

  “‘Twould seem Hilda as out done herself,” Caitlin responded. “Why are you smashing the cake?”

  “I’m looking for the ring or the horseshoe.” Sarah turned questioning eyes to her. “Hilda did put the charms in the cake, did she not?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I do not see anything in this piece. I need another slice.”

  “Sarah, you do not need charms.”

  “But the ring will bring me love, and the horseshoe brings good luck. I must find one of them.”

  “Why?”

  “For good luck. I am also going to sleep with a piece of the cake under my pillow tonight,” she added. “If I dream about Brogan then maybe we will wed next.”

  “Sarah, those superstitions do not work. I am sure my brother will marry you, but it will not have anything to do with cake or lucky charms.”

  “It won’t hurt either.”

  “I know Brogan loves you. ‘Twill only be a matter of time before he asks for your hand.”

  “I hope he does it before I’m an old maid.”

  “You put too much stock into the formalities of society. You are far from an old maid.” Caitlin never understood the romantic, wishy-washy side of her best friend. Sarah never had a thought of her own. She always followed the rules and superstitions set by others.

  “Well, I just want to make sure.” Sarah went to get another piece of cake.

  The orchestra swung into a festive tune and some guests headed to the designated spot for dancing.

  Dillon wanted a dance with his beautiful bride, even if coerced. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Cade?” He extended his hand.

  “Of course.” She swallowed the last drops of wine feeling a tingling spread throughout her body, which helped bolster the fraudulent joyful mood. Dancing was the
last thing she wanted to do but the charade had to be kept up until the end. I hope it’s over soon, she sighed.

  As they went through the steps to the dance, Dillon asked, “How do you feel?”

  “Words cannot express my feelings.” Actually she had the words it just wasn’t ladylike to use them in mixed company.

  “You have had several glasses of wine and I do not want you getting sick in front of the guests.”

  “Are you worried about your reputation?”

  “Nay, Mrs. Cade, ‘tis the reputation of you and your parents’ that worry me.”

  “I can assure you that my reputation will be just fine.” She smiled, knowing that he didn’t approve of her drinking. “There is one more thing I wish to discuss.”

  “Anything, my lady.”

  “I do not like your constant use of Mrs. Cade. Just because you are partial to the name does not mean the whole world is. Caitlin will suffice.”

  “You do not fancy taking the name Cade?” Dillon challenged.

  “I do not fancy taking any man’s last name, however, I loathe your English name most of all.”

  “I’ll be obliged to call you by your Christian name, if you do the same with me.”

  “Sir, you impel a hard bargain.” Being on a first name basis with this tyrant was the last thing she wanted, however constantly being reminded that her last name was now English seemed far worse. “It is as you wish, Dillon,” she reluctantly agreed.

  The dance ended and Caitlin used the excuse that she was out of breath and needed a rest. She went back to the table, pouring another glass of wine.

  Alin approached Dillon as he stood off to side of the dance floor watching the other couples happily maneuver through the steps.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea for your wife to be imbibing so much?”

  “Nay, sir. I tried to caution her, but that made her fix upon it even more.”

  “I’ll have a talk with her.”

  “If you don’t mind my saying, sir, I think it would be best to let her alone. Caitlin is stubborn and must learn the consequences of drinking on her own. Besides, I feel we have all made more than enough decisions on her behalf.”

  “I suspect you’re right, lad.”

  The music swelled into an Irish jig and Caitlin’s feet tapped along with the beat. Her feet weren’t the only things that felt light. Her head seemed to float along like cloud beside her body, and her spirit soared higher than the tops of the tall pine trees. She slipped through the crowd to stand by her father and Dillon.

  “Papa, come dance with me.” She tugged at his arm.

  “You know I’m not much of a dancer,” he moaned. “You and Dillon looked good out there.”

  “’Tis my wedding and I want to dance with you.”

  “All right.” Alin disappeared onto the dance floor and fervently tried to keep up with Caitlin.

  When the song ended Alin tried to leave but Caitlin wouldn’t let him. The next song started and he found himself surrounded by couples and had no choice but to join in the wheel.

  Kathleen decided to get a dance with her new son-in-law. They joined everyone on the floor and soon switched partners with Caitlin and Alin.

  Alin gladly went into the arms of his wife, however Caitlin was more reluctant. The overwhelming proximity of her spouse left a feeling of weakness that caused her knees to wobble, and set her head spinning. Their kiss at the altar had left her feeling the same way. She tried forcing the memories away, but the haze under which her brain operated made this task difficult.

  Caitlin looked around the crowd watching the couples gladly glide to the music. She spotted Brogan and Sarah, their hands touching as often as they dared without risking Sarah’s reputation. The attraction between them could be felt. They make such a handsome couple, she thought. The black frock coat and breeches of the same color emphasized Brogan’s tall, bulky physique. His light brown hair was a contrast to Sarah’s dark tresses, which had been piled high in ringlet curls and held in place by a bandeau of red and white flowers. The Greek style dress flattered her tall, slender frame while the red complemented her dark completion.

  She felt a little envious of the pair. It must be delightful dancing with the person you love instead of this ton from England. She had always wanted to experience that kind of attraction, and now would never have the chance. The kiss sealing her vows would be as close as she’d ever get.

  Starting to feel the tears swell behind her eyes, she excused herself and went in search of another drink. I don’t know what all the fuss is over this stuff? She contemplated before draining another glass. The former tingling gave way to numbness and made her feel better. She could almost forget that it was her wedding day, and that she’d married her greatest foe.

  Her pink lips curved contentedly when she noticed the puckered frown on Dillon’s oval face. “A few more drinks and I’ll show him,” she stated to herself. What right did he have telling her not to drink? What right did he have marrying her? She’d show him. She’d show them all!

  * * *

  The afternoon sun lowered in the sky causing the huge maple tree to cast its shadow over the guests as they danced and had fun. Even Caitlin seemed to be enjoying herself. Dillon assumed the relaxed attitude was due to the liquor coursing through her veins, and the fact that he’d kept his distance, but the time had come for them to leave. He worried that Caitlin would make a spectacle out of herself. Dillon proceeded to the dance floor to fetch his drunken wife.

  “There you are.” Caitlin announced loudly as she fell into his arms. “I was beginning to think you abandoned me.”

  “I would never do that.”

  “That’s my husband,” she muttered, “gallant to the end.”

  “I try, madam.” He gestured for Sarah.

  “So tell me Mr. Gallant,” she slurred. “What are you getting out of this marriage? I mean why would you tie yourself down with a wife, especially when we will never even be intimate?”

  “I see the wine has loosened your tongue.” He held on to her as she swayed. “This subject is best left to be discussed privately.”

  “Oh, I see. You do not want me embarrassing you. Well, you should have thought about that before you went through with this charade.”

  Sarah hesitantly approached, not wanting to eavesdrop, but Dillon motioned for her again. “Can you help Caitlin up the stairs? It’s time to toss the bouquet.”

  “I can manage the stairs on my own.” Caitlin squared her shoulders and proceeded unsteadily to the house, feeling woozier than she wanted to admit.

  Dillon gently laid his hand on Sarah’s forearm. “Whatever it takes, do not allow her to ascend the stairs alone. I fear she may fall and get hurt.”

  “Aye, sir.” She noted the concern in his eyes. “I am under the impression that something is going on here. This is not a love match, is it?”

  “Nay. However, I’m not at liberty to give details.”

  “I understand, and I’m not asking for any. I only wanted to let you know that Caitlin couldn’t ask for a better husband. Your concern is evident and I appreciate the way you have handled her behavior tonight. Most husbands would not have been so lenient.”

  “Caitlin is having a hard time right now. I’m sure she will come around in time.”

  “Aye,” she skeptically replied, then hurried off to catch up with Caitlin.

  This staircase never seemed so long before; Caitlin mused as she struggled to climb it on unsteady limbs. Gripping the wood railing with one hand and her bouquet in the other left her no way to lift the train of her dress. She’d tried holding up the hem of her gown with one hand but her equilibrium was off and she swayed, teetering on the edge of the step. Thankfully, Sarah steadied her and now held the dress up out of the way. They reached the landing while the group of unwed maidens gathered below, eagerly waiting to catch the bouquet.

  “This is a stupid tradition,” Caitlin muttered. “I didn’t catch the bouquet at Caroline’s wedding. Bon
nie was supposed to be the next one to get hitched.”

  “Her turn will come,” Sarah reassured her. “You were just luckier than she.”

  “Luck!” Caitlin harshly laughed. “I feel about as lucky as a rabbit’s foot.”

  “A rabbit’s foot is very lucky.”

  “Not for the poor rabbit.”

  “Hush now and throw the bouquet,” Sarah urged.

  Caitlin tossed the flowers over her shoulder. She heard the scrambling below then applause erupted from the crowd. Not being able to look at the fool who’d caught the bouquet, she closed her eyes, which also served to fend off a nauseating wave.

  The grandfather clock chimed four times, bringing an onslaught of tears to Caitlin’s eyes. Each chime thudded through her head and caused her stomach to revolt. “I feel sick.”

  “’Tis from all the spirits you have consumed,” Sarah scolded.

  “Now you sound like Dillon.”

  “Well, someone should have talked some sense into you before now. “’Tis not ladylike to drink.”

  “Save the scolding for later. Right now I need fresh air.”