by Riley Moreno
‘And this is my son Brice,’ Lord Murray said. When Brice came forward, Marion felt like she was waking up from a very long sleep. She simultaneously had the sensation of her heart leaping from her chest and dancing a reel on top of a hill. She felt ridiculous, hopeless and filled with wonder all at the same time. Looking at the top of his head when he bent to kiss her hand, Marion realized that Brice was the only one of the three men that she had just been introduced to, who had greeted her so beautifully. He had hair the color of a loch at night, Marion mused, and eyes like two forest pools. When he raised his head Brice scanned her face briefly and nodded, her hand still in his. Lady Murray fluttered up to the assembled gathering and looked from Marion to Brice and back again. This was not the plan she thought, as she greeted the young girl whose gaze lay on her youngest son’s face like a warm blanket, so that both her face and his seemed to be aflame with barely concealed excitement. ‘Come, come,’ Lady Murray said, ‘We must go inside. The Bridal party has been sighted. I can hear the piper play!’
Brice nodded to Marion and turned to go inside the Chapel. Marion stared after him, noting with delight that he was wearing a kilt.
‘Marion, my dear,’ Lady Buchane said, ‘You must not stare so at the young lad. I daresay you do so because you have never seen a man in a kilt before.’
‘My apologies, Mama, I did not mean to stare at all. Was I actually staring?’
‘It would seem so,’ Lady Buchane said. She took her daughter’s arm as they walked into the Chapel and whispered, ‘What did you think of Robert? He is handsome, is he not?’
‘He is,’ Marion said, ‘Why do you ask?’
Lady Buchane clicked her tongue. ‘ Don’t play the innocent with me, young lady, you know perfectly well why I ask.’
‘Surely you do not expect me to have an opinion after one brief introduction?’ Marion whispered back. ‘But tell me mama, what do you know of Brice?’
‘Just that he seems entrenched in his Scottish roots and will be laird of Bothwell one day.’
‘How so? He is the youngest son, is he not?’
‘He is. But William is to live in England and Robert in France.’ Lady Buchane leaned closer to Marion’s ear. ‘Just think – you could live in France!’
‘Well fancy that,’ Marion said dryly, not in the least enamored with the idea of marrying Robert and going away to a country that held no charm for her.
Robert and Brice were standing together with their brother William as the Bridal party processed into the Chapel led by a piper. It was a poignant moment and Marion was entranced as she watched the ceremony. But as William and his bride pledged their troth to each other, Marion found her gaze caught and held by Brice’s mesmeric green eyes. She could not have felt warmer if he had reached out and taken her into his arms. The imperceptible nod he gave her was like a caress, and Marion’s hand flew to one burning cheek.
‘You look distressed…or unwell,’ Lady Buchane remarked, turning to Marion as they left the Chapel and made their way over to the banquet.
‘On the contrary, I feel remarkably well,’ Marion replied.
‘Your face is flushed!’ Lady Buchane observed.
‘Perhaps, but I do feel well mama, I promise.’
In the Great Hall of the Castle, where there was feasting and dancing, Marion scoured the area for the object of her thoughts. William and his bride were there, greeting guests and dancing. Robert was there too, first by his brother’s side and then conversing with his parents. He disappeared from view and reappeared at Marion’s side while she continued to scour the gathering for a glimpse of Brice.
‘Lady Marion, would you dance with me?’ Robert asked and Marion turned to him. ‘I am afraid I have very little knowledge of Highland dances,’ she said.
Robert laughed. ‘I cannot say I am an expert myself, but you will be well acquainted with the dances this evening, I am certain, for they have very little flavor of the Highlands.’
‘Oh,’ Marion said, disappointed, and shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to be free for Brice, whenever he put in an appearance, and she was not particularly excited about the dances that evening lacking in Highland flavor. ‘Perhaps I will join you in the next dance,’ she said. I think I will sit down for a bit.’
Robert recognized a rebuff, but he was persistent. His father had bid him pay court to the Lady Marion because he wanted Robert to take an English bride back with him to France, rather than marry a French woman. ‘Besides, she is of good ancestry,’ Lord Murray had said, ‘and will fit in well in French society.’
‘Come now, Lady Marion, one dance is all I ask for… and after that if you despise my company you may feel free to make your views known to me.’
Marion had no answer to give Robert as he led her away, and to add to her discomfiture and distress, she found Brice dancing with a girl of considerable beauty. Why he had not come to her, she could not fathom, because the look he had given her during the ceremony earlier seemed fraught with emotion. She dared not look in his direction, Marion thought, as they danced the Strathspey and then a reel.
‘I think I will sit down for a bit,’ Marion said, and Robert led her away from the dancers.
‘Lady Marion,’ Robert said firmly, ‘I will be asking your father for your hand in marriage, and as our parents have already discussed the matter of our betrothal, I think you will need to increase your efforts to be more than just civil with me.’
Marion looked at him in surprise. ‘Betrothal? Marriage? What do you mean? We have only just met and I do not know you at all, Lord Robert. I fear I cannot make any such commitment to you and I doubt that my parents would have done so without my consent.’
Robert laughed. ‘How little you know of the world. Consent is not yours or mine to give. We do as our parents bid us to and you must marry me.’
‘I most certainly will not,’ Marion said hotly and moved rapidly away from Robert. Lady Buchane watched her daughter from across the room and rushed to her side.
‘What is the matter?’ Lady Buchane asked.
‘Nothing that you do not know about. How could you and papa do this to me, mama? How could you promise me to Robert Murray without giving me a chance to get to know him?’
‘But my dear, we know him. Your father and I have met with him and spoken to him and of course Lord Murray is a good friend…’
‘Tell me why you’re doing this,’ Marion demanded.
‘Do not make a scene,’ Lady Buchane answered, smiling brightly at Marion so that anyone who glanced in their direction would assume the two ladies were just having the most casual of conversations.
‘Then tell me why you’re doing this,’ Marion demanded again, mutinous.
‘If you stop pouting and smile a little, I will,’ Lady Buchane replied.
Marion forced her lips into an attractive curve and tried to look at her mother with less hostility. ‘Now tell me!’
‘Your father is in debt to Lord Murray,’ Lady Buchane said.
‘And I am the payment of his dues?’ Marion asked, aghast, the false smile replaced by a look of complete indignation.
‘The Murrays wanted an English bride for Robert, and you were not spoken for,’ Lady Buchane said, ashamed at her recent revelation. ‘Besides, they are a prominent family and you will live in France!’
‘I am not interested in France!’ Marion spat out.
‘Keep your voice down, child,’ Lady Buchane cautioned her daughter.
‘Why Robert?’
‘I know you look with longing at Brice, but Robert is the one in the market for a bride.’
Marion flushed. ‘I cannot, and will not, marry Robert Murray!’ Marion said emphatically.
‘You are going to, and I will hear no argument to the contrary,’ Lady Buchane replied with equal emphasis.
Marion said nothing, but moved away from her mother, hoping to find her way out of the Great Hall where she could, in private, shed the tears that lay heavy in her eyes. She slipped out into the grounds
, shivering in the cold breeze that whipped across the moors.
‘Where are you off to by yourself?’ A voice asked, and Marion jumped back in alarm.
‘It’s me, Brice.’
Marion bit her lip and swept the tears off her cheeks, though Brice saw them glistening on her ivory skin and was moved.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘You seem very distressed.’
He spoke like a true Scotsman and Marion felt her pulse racing despite her misery. ‘I just came out here for a breath of air,’ she said, still brushing the tears off her cheeks.
Brice looked keenly at her. ‘What is it? My family imposing their will on yours?’
Marion’s eyes fluttered up to Brice’s face in surprise.
‘I’m not sure what they are up to but yes, my unhappiness has to do with my family and yours.’
‘I know they want you to marry Robert.’
‘Yes. Of course you would surely know about that,’ Marion said.
‘And you do not wish to wed my brother?’
‘I do not know your brother,’ Marion said, ‘so how am I expected to make a decision about marrying him?’
Brice shrugged. ‘You can get to know him…between the betrothal and the wedding,’ he said.
‘Did they send you out here to mollify me? Do you think you can get me to consent to a union with Robert?’
‘Consent has already been given – by your parents. Your role is to accept your lot and make the best of it. Isn’t that what you were taught?’
‘No!’ Marion hissed, ‘I had no idea that I had no say in whom I was to spend the rest of my life with.’
‘He is not a bad man, my brother,’ Brice said gently.
‘I am sure he is a very fine man indeed, but I …but I…oh never mind, I can scarcely say another word,’ Marion floundered, tears spilling onto her cheeks again, this time more profusely.
‘I am truly sorry about this. Please – do not cry Lady…’
‘Call me Marion,’ Marion said, composing herself with difficulty.
‘Marion,’ Brice said, in a way that made Marion’s heart beat more rapidly, ‘dry your eyes and go back inside or there will soon be a search party sent out for you.’ No sooner had the words left his mouth than Marion’s parents emerged with two strangers.
‘Oh no!’ Marion exclaimed in a whisper, ‘I do not wish to speak with them right now…or to have them find me here…with you.’
‘Quick,’ Brice said, taking Marion’s arm, ‘this way!’
Marion gathered her skirts into her hands and followed Brice, the darkness falling like a thick curtain between them and the search party. Brice stopped and Marion heard the click of a door.
‘Where are we?’ Marion asked anxiously.
‘Do not be afraid, this is a shed like structure outside the Chapel that we used to play in as children when it was too cold to be outdoors and ride across the moors as I loved to do.’
‘Hmmm,’ Marion said, her voice still shaky, ‘I cannot see anything at all. Where are you?’
‘Here,’ Brice said, and reached for her hand in the darkness, giving it a reassuring squeeze. A spark seemed to leap from Brice’s hand to Marion’s, and she caught her breath.
‘Are you alright?’ Brice asked, his voice unsteady.
‘Yes,’ Marion replied, ‘But how long do you think we will need to stay here?’
‘Not long,’ Brice said, his voice husky with emotion. His grip on Marion’s hand was firmer now and he pulled her gently towards him. Marion felt her body float towards Brice in the darkness, and her arms go up and around his neck as he leaned over and kissed her - finding her lips with startling accuracy despite the lack of illumination in the closed room. Brice’s lips were warm and gentle as he increased the pressure on Marion’s mouth. Their lips nestled together for what seemed like an eternal moment and neither of them moved during that simple embrace, but later Marion would run her fingers over her mouth and wonder at how such a simple gesture evoked such a stream of emotions within her young body. Brice raised his head, wishing he could see Marion’s face, and touched her cheeks, caressing them with his fingertips.
‘Do you do this to every girl you meet?’ Marion asked, her feelings tied in knots.
‘No. This is the first time I’ve ever done this…’
‘Why? Why did you kiss me?’ Marion asked, feeling foolish the moment she had asked the question.
‘I don’t know – I was following my instincts I suppose; doing what I wanted to do since I first saw you standing there outside the Chapel.’ Brice touched Marion’s hair and leaned in to kiss the top of her head. ‘That first moment that I saw you alight from the carriage, I wished desperately that you had come for me…and not for Robert.’
‘Oh Brice, do you know I felt something move my heart in a way it hasn’t been moved before…that first moment I saw you…and every moment after that! And that is why I cannot marry Robert.’
They heard voices calling out Marion’s name, and Brice reluctantly pulled away from her. ‘Quick,’ he said, go round the back of this shed and enter the Great Hall through the side door. ‘Come, I’ll show you the way.’ He slid out of the shed, and Marion followed, running away from him reluctantly. She slipped into the side door and made her way to the banquet tables where Lady Buchane found her.
‘Where have you been?’ Lady Buchane asked, and Marion hoped her face bore no tell tale signs of Brice’s kiss.
‘Here, waiting to be seated, so that I may eat something. I’m ravenous.’
‘We were looking outside for you,’ Lady Buchane said, searching Marion’s face, ‘and there are people, even now, out in the cold on your account.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Marion said, with a sweep of her right arm, ‘I was over there in a corner watching the dancers, and then I came here.’
‘I see,’ Lady Buchane said, not entirely convinced by Marion’s story, but seating herself and her daughter at the banquet table to partake of the feast. For one who claimed to be in dire need of sustenance, Marion did no justice to the feast, and the food seemed to wedge itself in her throat, along with all the pent up emotion of her recent encounter with Brice, and the fear of being forced into a marriage with Robert.
CHAPTER II
‘I want to return to England,’ Marion said.
Lady Buchane grimaced. ‘You know we are not going to leave Scotland now,’ she said.
‘You said we were here to attend a wedding,’ Marion argued, ‘and that we would return after that.’
‘Look, my dear, you need to come to terms with the fact that your father is beholden to Lord Murray and that we are compelled to stay here at Arniston House, until certain business is transacted.’
‘You mean we have to stay here until I am betrothed and then married to Robert Murray, don’t you?’
‘Yes, that is correct,’ Lady Buchane replied firmly. Her expression softened and she went over to Marion and stroked her hair. ‘You are going to have one of the finest seamstresses create the most exquisite wedding gown for you, and you are to have an entire array of new and very fashionable clothes so that you are not out of place in Paris.’
Marion threw her mother a withering look. ‘And you think all of this frippery means something to me? Not at all, mother. I am not to be bought by fine dresses and trinkets.’
Lady Buchane pursed her lips, ‘Oh fie!’ she exclaimed impatiently, ‘Do not be impertinent, child! Be grateful you are to marry a man of such high standing and promising prospects.’
‘I see that you will not at any cost rate my happiness above my father’s debt to Lord Murray!’ Marion cried, running out of the room in tears.
Outside the sun shone, but an icy wind sliced through the heather. Marion stood in the morning room, looking out of the window, still crying, when she spied a man on horseback ride up to the house. Lady Buchane breezed into the morning room minutes later bearing an elaborate card.
‘Marion, my dear! Just look! An invitation to witness a tourname
nt! Wouldn’t that be so entertaining?’
Marion turned around dully. ‘A tournament? And how would that be at all entertaining?’
Lady Buchane sighed. ‘Come child, let us decide what you should wear. You will be seated with Lord and Lady Murray while you watch all their three sons jousting. And there will be feasting after.’
‘I see,’ Marion said softly, a little flutter in her belly at the thought of seeing Brice again. ‘Well, a joust might not be all that unpleasant to watch,’ she murmured, and allowed her mama to hold up a selection of gowns for her to choose from…though eventually it was Lady Buchane who chose a gown of pale lavender for her daughter to wear to the tournament.
Marion felt almost delirious during the days that followed – being given to long spells of silence, her eyes glazed over as she replayed the sequence of events in the outhouse by the Chapel. Her fingers strayed often to her lips, feeling them transformed by that gently bestowed, exquisitely emotion ridden first kiss. Her excitement grew as the day of the tournament drew near, and her ivory cheeks were stained pink with anticipation as they set out for Bothwell Castle.
The atmosphere was cheery at Bothwell, with a brightly dressed audience and eager contenders. William was there and so were Robert and Brice, and Marion leaned forward to watch them compete. It was a heady feeling – watching them ride at each other with lances poised; knowing that while they participated with a spirit of amity, there was also an underlying but nevertheless palpable sense of competition. Perhaps it was prophetic that Robert and Brice competed with each other. This particular part of the tournament had Marion’s heart thumping violently, so that her breasts rose and fell with unsettling rapidity, even as she fought for composure while attempting to convey the impression that the outcome did not matter to her as much as it did. Lady Murray leaned towards her. ‘You will see now, how much skill our Robert has with a lance.’
‘As does Brice, I am sure,’ Marion was quick to shoot back, stifling a cry as her mama’s elbow nudged her to be discreet with her remarks.