Highland Blood (The Celtic Blood Series Book 2)

by Melanie Karsak

  “My Lady,” she said, dropping into a curtsey.

  “Ute, please take the Lady of Moray to my chamber and get her settled in,” he told the girl then turned to me. “I must go to council now, but I will come as soon as I can,” he said softly then kissed me on the forehead. “Welcome home, my bride.”

  “Thank you,” I said, squeezing his hand in farewell.

  “This way, My Lady,” Ute said, motioning for me to follow her.

  I whistled to Thora, who came padding along behind us.

  “It’s an honor to meet you, Lady Gruoch. To think, you are the niece of King Malcolm. It is my pleasure to serve you.”

  “Thank you, Ute,” I replied. “But please, no formalities between us. Let us be friends.”

  Ute smiled. “Thank you, My L—thank you, Gruoch.”

  I was led through the castle, which was not unlike Madelaine’s keep, to a bed chamber with a good view of the ward. The room looked as though it had been freshly spruced up for Gillacoemgain and me. I could smell the scent of freshly washed linens and new straw. From the look of the stones, the floors and walls had recently been scrubbed. A fire burned, driving off the last of the chill in the spring air. I sat down on the bed, realizing then that I was exhausted. The road had been long, and my body ached.

  “Ute, I think I shall take some rest,” I told the girl.

  “Of course.”

  I looked down at Thora. “This is Thora. She is dear to me. Will you see that she has something to eat?”

  Ute smiled down at Thora. “Well, bonnie girl, how about a bone?”

  Thora barked, which made Ute laugh.

  “Would you like some help getting undressed? The Mormaer had some things brought for you. You’ll find all manner of dresses in the trunk,” she said, motioning to a wood chest.

  I shook my head. Suddenly, I felt quite dizzy.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Take your rest. I won’t wake you unless the Mormaer asks for you,” she said then left.

  Sighing deeply, I crossed the room and opened the chest. Gillacoemgain and Madelaine, it seemed, liked the idea of seeing me in court gowns. Inside I saw red, green, and blue gowns trimmed with fine lace and embroidery. I pulled out a simple night dress. Pulling off my riding gear, I slipped on the gown and lay down. I was a bride. And soon, I would be a mother. Taking one step out of Ynes Verleath had changed my entire life.

  Ute woke me later that evening and helped me bathe and dress for dinner. I had already grown tired of the constant grooming. I pulled on the red gown, brushing out my long, dark hair, and then followed Ute to the dining hall where I was seated beside a very tired-looking Gillacoemgain. He smiled as best he could, but I could see that the ride, and the onslaught of news, had exhausted him. I was introduced to the Mormaers of Buchan and Mar and people talked of trade and of Thorfinn of Orkney. I listened.

  King Malcolm favored Gillacoemgain to control the north over Thorfinn or Macbeth. The king questioned Thorfinn’s relationship with Norway and Macbeth’s relationship with Thorfinn. My marriage to Gillacoemgain was the king’s way of sending a clear message to any contenders that the king wanted Gillacoemgain to be the Lord of the North, as the Mormaer of Moray was generally considered. But if Gillacoemgain wanted to take control of Thorfinn’s lands, now was the time. These were things everyone knew, and everyone was waiting to see what Gillacoemgain would do. They also seemed to be wondering what, if anything, Gillacoemgain and King Malcolm had secretly planned. Gillacoemgain, however, only seemed to want to get married and think things through; at least that was my observation. And that night, I was certain, the only thing Gillacoemgain wanted was sleep.

  “My Lord looks weary,” I whispered in his ear when those closest to us had turned their attention away.

  “I’ve spent too long riding to hear all manner of news at once, but that is the nature of things for me,” he said, sipping a concoction of warm, honey-sweetened herbs.

  “Will you have counsel all night or will you rest?”

  “More hereafter, I’m afraid. Malcolm sent a priest north to wed us. He arrived a while ago but is sleeping. I hope you will forgive me, but I have not planned a lavish wedding. Moray’s money has been spent to ensure I keep my place here.”

  “I need no trappings to wed,” I replied.

  Gillacoemgain laughed. “If Malcolm had not offered your hand, Corbie, I would have come for you myself.”

  My heart fluttered open. “Thank you.”

  Gillacoemgain smiled and stroked my cheek.

  I looked at Gillacoemgain, and for a brief moment I saw a flash of red on his face, a glow like he was beside a fire. Strange. I closed my eyes, forcing the image away.

  “Corbie?” he whispered. “Are you all right?

  “I’m fine,” I said, pulling myself back together. It was nothing more than a shadow, a strange trick of the light.

  “The ride was too much for you and the talk grows weary. Why don’t you rest?”

  “Not yet. Will you come to our chamber tonight?”

  Gillacoemgain sighed tiredly. “I must meet with Buchan and Mar. There is much to consider.”

  “Will it come to war then?”

  “So it seems. The last of those who support Thorfinn must be subdued.”

  “There is no way to bring him to an accord?”

  Gillacoemgain shook his head. “The Viking thinks his line rules the north. He’s wrong. I will not have our children’s birthright threatened. I will stamp him out and those who support him.”

  “Has he much support?”

  “Enough to give me a problem, but I have Malcolm.”

  Rather, I thought, Malcolm had Gillacoemgain, but I didn’t say so.

  He put his arm around me then and pulled me close. “What do you think of my castle?”

  “I’ve seen little more than our chamber. But I love the ward, the green space inside the castle walls.”

  “There is another garden,” Gillacoemgain said distractedly, “but it’s unused. The soil may be bad there,” he said, shifting in his seat. He sighed. “When this business is done, we’ll go out and hunt together, my birds and your dog. They’ll make a great team.”

  “Birds?”

  “My falcons,” he said, his eyes sparkling with buried joy.

  “I look forward to those quiet days.”

  “As do I,” Gillacoemgain said, stroking my hair, “as do I.”

  Chapter 10

  Despite Gillacoemgain’s desire for quiet, rest, and a peaceful life, there was no sign of it on the horizon. I waited up for him that night, but he never came to our chamber.

  The following morning, I learned from Ute that the men had been in counsel all night. Riders had been coming in and out of Cawdor at all hours. From the viewpoint above the ward, I saw messengers rushing in and out of the castle. Moray was a busy place. Madelaine’s castle had lived in a quiet lull. Nothing happened saved the grotesque antics of Alister. In Moray, things were very different. The north, it seemed, was bracing for conflict.

  Gillacoemgain arrived midday, however, with news.

  “Corbie?” he called, rapping on the chamber door. He looked very pale. Dark rings had formed under his eyes.

  “Gillacoemgain? You look miserable,” I said, crossing the room to take his hand.

  “It’s nothing,” he said, dismissing his obvious fatigue. “I spoke with the priest this morning. He can perform the nuptials today,” he said then added, “I have to say, he took the news that there wasn’t a lavish event planned worse than the bride.”

  “I hope you told him so.”

  “I did,” Gillacoemgain said with a laugh. “I suspect he’s used to women of southern stock. Royal girls do have a reputation for demanding pageantry.”

  “Should I stamp my foot and demand heaps of jewels?” I asked playfully. “After all, I’ve come with quite a dowry.”

  “If you want, but I don’t have any jewels to give you. I do have something, though,” he said and crosse
d the room to his trunk. From within, he pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth and set it on the bed. “I had this made for you.”

  Curious, I opened the package. Inside I found a stunning violet-colored gown trimmed with silver embroidery. “How did you know? The colors…”

  “I didn’t, but there is a woman in Nairn who my sister trusted to make her gowns. I asked the dressmaker to sew something for you. Do you like it?”

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, stunned that Gillacoemgain had thought to ensure I had something special to wear. But his words caught my attention. I hadn’t known he had a sister. For a fleeting moment, I envisioned a female friend for myself, a co-conspirator in mischief and someone to be with me through my pregnancy.

  “We’ve set the time of the nuptials at dusk. Does that suit you?”

  “Yes,” I said, stroking my hand across the lovely fabric. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  Gillacoemgain stiffened, and it felt as if the air around us grew cold. “Had. She was…she’s dead.”

  I could feel all the sharp edges around the topic so I let it go. As fleeting as my dream had come, it vanished just as quickly. “A wedding at dusk,” I said gently, thinking not only of the lovely sunset hues, but also how weddings after midday were said to bring bad luck.

  “Yes, I know, ten people have already told me that the time of day is ill-omened, but I must leave soon, and I want our marriage confirmed. And I want to join my wife in bed,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

  I let go of everything in that moment and felt him, just him. I owed it to both of us to try to make it work.

  “Corbie. My raven bride,” he said then kissed the back of my head. “I’ll see you at dusk.”

  The gown Gillacoemgain had given me was a perfect fit. The embroidered silver thread matched the raven torcs I’d brought with me from Ynes Verleath. I slid on the amulet and bracelets. They glimmered in the fading sunlight.

  “You look so beautiful,” Ute said as she wound my hair with colorful ribbons, inserting violets, small white flowers, and bits of ivy.

  I strung a piece of matching ribbon around Thora’s neck, making Ute laugh and Thora look at me like I was mad.

  “What? You look festive,” I told Thora, who simply wagged her tail.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “They are ready for you, My Lady,” Artos called from the other side of the door.

  “I don’t like that man,” Ute told me in a whisper. “None of the servants do.”

  I, too, sensed the danger on Artos. I nodded.

  “Keep your head still or all the flowers will fall out,” Ute told me with a giggle.

  Artos waited just outside the chamber. “This way,” he said, leading us down the hallway toward a part of the castle I’d never been in before. The hallways looked a bit unused, everything dusty.

  “What is this place? Visitor’s quarters?” I asked Artos.

  He shook his head. “This was the wing Lord Findelach resided in before his falling out with Gillacoemgain. Lord Findelach went to Inverness afterward. This area is unused now, but the only chapel in the castle is here.”

  “Was Findelach a Christian?” It surprised me to think that Gillacoemgain, who seemed so ambivalent about religion, had a pious brother…one that Gillacoemgain had murdered.

  “In his way,” Artos replied but said nothing more.

  We wound down the stairs to a small courtyard, a garden really, outside the chapel. There, apple trees bloomed with lovely white blossoms. They perfumed the air. Benches and even some small fountains decorated the space. At once, I noticed a fairy ring growing amongst the green. Was this the garden Gillacoemgain had mentioned? If it was, then the soil was not only good but touched with magic. The place was lovely. Torches had been lit all along the pathway from the main castle corridor to the small stone building at the other side of the courtyard. Terraces from the chambers around the garden looked out at the green space. This area of the castle must have once been very beautiful. Firelight shimmered brilliantly against the burning colors of the sunset. The sky, streaked ruby red and deep purple, was alive with fire.

  Several nicely dressed lords and ladies, many of whom I had not yet met, waited at the door. They bowed when I drew near.

  “My Lady,” Fergus said, taking my arm. “The Lord of Mar has offered to escort you in.”

  I smiled at Fergus, who had shaved and bathed for the wedding. “Very well,” I replied, and Fergus led me to the Lord whom I’d met briefly at dinner the evening before.

  “Lady Gruoch,” the Lord of Mar said as he took my arm. He was an older gentleman with thinning silver hair and a lanky frame. He too was dressed in fine clothes, wearing the colored cloth of Mar. “I’m so pleased to see you wed. Never fear, my girl,” he said, patting my hand, “Gillacoemgain is a reliable man. Don’t let the rumors dissuade you. That business with Findelach never made sense to me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Gillacoemgain was always a quiet, thoughtful young man. Seemed like he’d rather hunt boars than go to war. Findelach was quite different; ambitious, arrogant, pious. We wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been him. Please forgive me. We shouldn’t speak of such things at your nuptials. I just hoped to calm any nerves you might have. Would that your father could have seen this day, lass. Did you know I knew him? And your mother? I was there when we brought Emer back from Ireland. All us lads could do was stare at your mother. She was the loveliest thing I’d ever seen…save you in this moment. You are quite a vision.”

  “Thank you, My Lord.” I was taken aback to find my mother’s and father’s name and presence once more as I wed. It had never occurred to me that anyone would remember my mother.

  “You look much like her,” he continued then, “except you’ve got your father’s coloring. Moray is a lucky man. Lovely Emer,” he said as we walked up the steps into the chapel. “We were all so jealous of your father. She had eyes only for him. Did you know she could play the harp? On the way back from Ireland, she strummed the harp and sang to us. No idea what she was singing about, but her voice sounded like a dove,” he said.

  When we stepped into the church, Mar became silent, which seemed to be difficult for him. The little chapel was lit with candlelight. The light cast long shadows on the statues of Christian saints sitting in alcoves along the walls. The priest King Malcolm had sent from Edinburgh was heavily robed, heavily jeweled, and had flabby flesh hanging under his chin.

  The priest motioned for me to come forward as a small lad who accompanied him, perhaps no more than eight years of age, began singing in Latin. The small chapel filled with the child’s dulcet tones.

  Mar led me to Gillacoemgain, who looked very handsome in a soft gray shirt with the belted blue and green plaid of Moray around his waist and chest, clasped with a silver tartan pin. Like most highlanders, he wore no leggings, just his black leather boots. He wore a matching feathered cap.

  Mar passed my hand to Gillacoemgain. We turned then and gave our attention to King Malcolm’s priest.

  The priest then began the ceremony in Latin. While Epona had taught me well, I was only half-interested in following what the priest said. In essence, under the eyes of God and King, I now belonged to Moray. It mattered little what the actual words were.

  I looked at Gillacoemgain out of the corner of my eye. He, too, looked mildly annoyed, but he was trying not to show it. He could not help but crack a smile when, despite Ute’s whispered protests, Thora came forward to join us. She sat at my side, looking from Gillacoemgain to me. I giggled but tried to keep my composure.

  A moment later, Ute convinced Thora to come to her. I noticed then that a small lad, one of the stable boys, led Thora away from the chapel. She jumped around the boy excitedly.

  My attention lost, I was surprised when the priest motioned to Gillacoemgain.

  Gillacoemgain, who was still choking back a laugh, took a bundle of Moray tartan from Fergus. Then, regaining his composure, he wound
the fabric around me.

  “By Christ, and with the blessing of King Malcolm of Scotland, I pronounce Gruoch, daughter of Boite of the line MacAlpin and Gillacoemgain, Mormaer of Moray, bound as one.”

  Gillacoemgain took my hand, and we turned to face the assembled crowd.

  The happy group cheered, and Gillacoemgain planted a quick kiss on my lips.

  “How beautiful you look,” Gillacoemgain said, pulling me close to him. “Especially in the cloth of Moray!”

  “Many thanks, my husband. You, too, are a sight! Though I do hope you brought an extra strip or two of cloth?”

  “What for?”

  “For Thora, of course,” I replied, making those standing close to us laugh.

  “Malcolm told me ‘you cannot have the bride unless you take her dog as well,’” he joked.

  The crowd laughed.

  “Come, friends. Let’s dine,” Gillacoemgain called and pipers, who’d been waiting outside the chapel, began to play. They led the small group through the courtyard back to the main castle where a royal supper, drink, music, and all manner of sweets awaited the small crowd.

  The dinner was not lavish by any courtly standard, but I noticed that the good wine had been brought out, ale was plentiful, and two deer, hens, and even a boar had been roasted for the event. The music was merry and everyone seemed joyful. Most of the local lords and ladies were in attendance, as were many of the local clan leaders. That night, we dined and toasted our matrimony. And that night, when Gillacoemgain joined me in bed, I let him into my heart.

  “Love does not come easy to a man like me,” Gillacoemgain whispered in my ear, “but you’ve quite won me.”

  The sharp edges around my heart softened. “It is the same for me,” I replied.

  And that night, when I made love to my husband, my mind didn’t wander. That night, Gruoch wed Gillacoemgain and became the Lady of Moray. That night, a woman took her new husband. And the raven was nowhere to be seen.