The Highlander's Bride

by Amanda Forester

  “But my maid—” began Colette.

  The landlady waved a hand to stop her. “That girl? No, it will not do. I know how it is with you young widows, but you are a mother now and you must think of propriety.”

  “I have always conducted myself with the highest level of propriety,” stated Colette, her tone frigid.

  Their disagreement was working to confuse Captain Withers, whose bushy eyebrows fell over narrow eyes. Gone was his self-assurance as he looked back and forth between the two women.

  “Tsk, tsk, my dear, I meant no disrespect,” said the landlady, ignoring the English captain. “But I understand how it is with young people. I can see how very much in love you are.”

  Gavin stilled. What emotion did the landlady see in Colette? Did Colette cherish feelings for him, or was this all part of the deception to escape Captain Withers? He shook his head quickly. “We do so wish to be married,” said Gavin. “But we must make the evening tide. We canna tarry now.”

  “I’m under orders. No unmarried lady will leave these shores.” Captain Withers was firm on that count.

  “But the ship is leaving,” pleaded Gavin. “There is no time.”

  “Of course you have time!” exclaimed the landlady in a loud voice. “I have seen to it. My brother, he will wait for you. Time to speak your vows at the door of the church, my dear ones.”

  Colette’s hand held on to his arm with a death grip, but her face revealed no emotion. The English soldiers were closing in and there was no way to escape without either a fight or nuptials. His mind spun. He liked to solve problems with a sword. One always knew where you stood when the weapons came out to play. Subterfuge was not his strength, but any false move and Colette would be taken. He glanced at Colette, whose frozen expression told him she was out of ideas for how to extricate themselves from the situation. She took a breath and gave a barely perceptual nod.

  “Aye, let’s do it then,” declared Gavin.

  Without further ado, Gavin and Colette were escorted to the church in the middle of a group of English soldiers, the landlady triumphantly leading the way. The group walked a short distance to a monastery, where a priest was in residence. The village itself was too small to boast its own church or priest, so the locals were accustomed to walking to the monastery for their spiritual needs.

  They arrived like some sort of strange parade and were greeted by two monks. The landlady must have prepared them for their arrival, for the monks nodded in a congenial sort of way and led them into the monastery.

  One of the monks explained that Father Benedict would like to meet with the bride and groom alone in his cell prior to witnessing their vows. The group let them go, and Colette followed the monk as he led them down a narrow passage, past several closed doors, until they came to a small wooden door, which stood open. The monk motioned them inside, bowed, and closed the door, leaving them alone in the cell to await the priest.

  Gavin pointed at a small window covered by a shutter. “Do ye ken ye could fit through the window?” he asked, focused on escape.

  “Yes, I believe I could, but surely you could not.”

  “Aye.” Gavin sighed.

  “We must somehow get on that ship,” said Colette. “Once we are at sea, we will be free from these English soldiers.”

  “I agree, m’lady. But how to do so wi’out getting married? If only there was a way to make them believe we are wed wi’out anything binding.”

  “Even if I wished to be married, I could not.” Colette sighed. “I am formally betrothed. The marriage papers have been signed. I am not free to marry anyone but the Baron of Kintail.”

  Gavin frowned at her, tilting his head a bit to one side. “So if we were wed…”

  Colette stared at him. “It would not be legal.”

  “So we could speak vows today and it would not be binding. If the marriage was never consummated, the union would be annulled.” Gavin’s thoughts raced, trying to find a problem with the hastily concocted plan, but his mind kept getting caught on the one act that could never occur.

  “Vows are not considered binding if there is no…consummation.” Colette’s complexion, generally an even cream, blushed a becoming pink even as she stuttered over the word. The warm flush of her skin made her appear more alluring and alive. He forced himself to look away. Parts of his body were taking an unholy interest in the things he could not do.

  “Good day, my children.” Father Benedict chose that moment to open the door.

  Gavin was not sure what he had expected, but what he saw before him was not at all what he’d thought he would see. Father Benedict was a tall, thin man with the darkest skin Gavin had ever seen on a man. He had heard that some knights in their travels had seen peoples with a skin color different than his own, but until this moment, Gavin had secretly suspected that it was all a bit of talk. Clearly, there was truth in it.

  Gavin stole a look at Lady Colette to see if she was also similarly surprised to see a dark-skinned priest, but her face was utterly impassive. Perhaps it was not such a surprise to her as to him.

  “It is very good to meet you both,” said Father Benedict. “I understand you are desirous of becoming married. Or perhaps I should say that others quite insist on your nuptials. You must understand that I cannot perform the entire marriage office, since the bans have not been read, but I can certainly witness your vows at the door of the church. Either way, your marriage is just as binding.”

  Gavin and Colette exchanged a glance. Binding was the one thing they wished to avoid.

  Father Benedict caught their reaction and raised his eyebrows slightly. “Sit down, my children.” He motioned to a wooden bench and he sat across from them in a plain wooden chair. “So tell me, why do you to seek to be married?”

  Colette and Gavin exchanged another glance. What to say? Gavin cleared his throat. “We are of age and we are traveling to Scotland. It seemed good to be wed before we left.”

  “Yes, that does seem wise. The long journey can be difficult. It is good to have your affairs in order before you commence,” commented the priest.

  “Have ye much experience with long journeys?” asked Gavin, trying to deflect attention away from their situation.

  “Oh no, I was born in Bordeaux myself. But I have heard from others that journeys can be quite arduous.” His eyes twinkled as he spoke.

  Gavin assumed the man had been born in foreign parts, so he was surprised by this answer.

  “You are perhaps curious as to the reason for the color of my skin?” Father Benedict flashed them a smile, revealing a perfect row of dazzlingly white teeth.

  Gavin floundered to find the right words, and it was Colette who ended the awkward silence. “Were your parents also from Bordeaux, or did they travel here from distant lands?”

  “My parents did have a very long voyage to come here,” confirmed the priest. “They had a bit of the wanderlust, I fear. They traveled with a group of Hospitaller Knights to France, and there they stayed. My mother served the church in Egypt, and my father was from Africa. It makes my skin very dark, no? It is usually the first thing that people notice about me. When I was younger, I did not appreciate the blessing of being different. But now, I understand that it helps me to see things others do not. You too are different from each other, and you go to a land quite different from your own.” He looked at Colette as he spoke.

  “Oui, it is true. I shall have to learn to adapt, as you have.” Colette’s face remained outwardly serene, but the slight tremble in her tone betrayed her emotion.

  “You also have traveled here from a great distance, no?” The priest turned to Gavin.

  “Aye, from the Highlands o’ Scotland.”

  “Did you ever feel different from those around you?”

  “Aye, there were times when I felt out of place with my comrades. One canna expect a Highlander to find a ready welc
ome in the polished society o’ France.” Gavin spoke lightly on the subject. In truth, he had sought to be accepted by his fellow knights and the French aristocracy, but soon learned that to most, he would always be a barbarian.

  “It must have been difficult for you,” said Father Benedict.

  Gavin shrugged. “I have completed my mission here and can return wi’ honor.”

  “Oui. But for those who do not plan to ever return to their homeland, it may be more difficult.” Father Benedict directed his attention to Colette with compassion in his voice.

  Colette did not move, but tears welled in her eyes. With a blink, one cascaded down her cheek. It was then Gavin recognized the totality of her loss. It wasn’t about her things; it was about forever losing everything and everyone she had ever known.

  “It must be difficult to leave everything ye ever knew for a strange and foreign land,” said Gavin softly. He had a sudden recognition of just how difficult this journey was for her.

  Colette blotted her eyes with a lace handkerchief and gave a small nod. She was going to an unknown land to give herself to an unknown man, with the full knowledge that she would never return.

  Without thinking, Gavin reached out to hold her hand. He wished to spare her the difficulties her fate in life must surely bring.

  “I know this is the thing I must do,” said Colette finally. “But I do confess to some foreboding of going into an unknown future alone.”

  Father Benedict gave them a slow smile. “But you are not alone, my child. For the Lord who formed you before your birth has been with you every moment of your days and will continue to be ever present until that moment he brings you home. And you have your betrothed here, to walk beside you.”

  “I will do my utmost to protect her.” Gavin gave her hand a slight squeeze, though with a twinge of guilt that he would only protect her until he handed her off to another man—a thought that rankled severely.

  “Are you ready to be wed?” asked the priest evenly.

  They both nodded.

  “And what names shall I put on the register?” he asked.

  “I am Gavin Patrick, o’ Balquhidder,” Gavin replied. He glanced at Colette and realized from her widening eyes they had a problem. She could not announce her true identity or the English would take her captive. She needed to give a false name.

  “I am Marie Colette,” she answered.

  “Very good, and your father’s name?” asked the priest.

  Gavin tried to catch her eye; she needed to lie to the priest. He tried to speak for her, but his tongue refused to move. Lying to a priest, especially this priest, was no easy matter.

  “Pierre,” Colette answered in a small voice.

  The priest smiled. “Is that his surname, my child?”

  “It is Baudin,” she whispered.

  Gavin wondered if the English soldiers knew the family name of the duc de Bergerac. If they did, all was lost.

  If Father Benedict understood the meaning of the name, he gave no inclination. He merely nodded and smiled. “It is time to be wed.”

  Nineteen

  Colette walked to the door of the church on the arm of her knight and protector. She glanced up at Sir Gavin, who gave her a tense smile. She had given some thought to her wedding day, but this was not at all what she had anticipated. They stepped forward toward the church. It was of modest size but boasted a vaulted ceiling with flying buttresses extending from the walls.

  More people arrived from the town, including Pippa with the baby and many townsfolk who simply followed the crowd to see what was happening. Colette held on to Gavin’s arm and told herself that as long as he stood by her side, she could get through this travesty.

  Gavin and Colette stood at the door of the church, as was tradition, while English soldiers and townsfolk surrounded them. Captain Withers stood close, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. It was a situation fraught with danger. Clearly, she was suspected of being the lady they sought. She needed to appear to be a merchant’s daughter marrying her love. If their ruse was discovered, she would be captured…and Gavin would be killed.

  Gavin stood beside her, tall and confident. He gave her a small nod of encouragement and she took a deep breath. If Gavin was concerned for his fate, he kept it well hidden. He smiled down at her as if all was going according to plan and he was pleased with this wedding. It was all pretend, she knew, but she was still drawn to the warmth in his eyes. She could get lost in those deep brown eyes.

  Gavin offered his right hand, and she placed her hand in his. Warmth spread through her at his touch. All she needed to do was say a few words and then proceed with their journey. It was just a few words. The marriage would not be valid unless they shared the intimacy of husband and wife, and of course that could never happen.

  She took a deep breath, unable to look away from Gavin. If only her real husband could look like him, there would be no trouble giving herself in the marital bed. She swallowed compulsively at the thought, sweat trickling down the back of her gown. When had it grown so hot?

  Father Benedict stood at the doorway to witness their vows, softly providing the words of the vow for Gavin to repeat. “Marie Colette, I take ye to be my wife and commit to ye the fidelity and loyalty o’ my body…” He paused and Colette had a dreadful moment of picturing Gavin’s body without his clothes.

  Gavin gave a nervous cough and continued, “And my possessions; and I will keep ye in health and sickness and in any condition it please our Lord that ye should have, nor for worse or for better will I change towards ye until the end.” He spoke the words reverently, sincerely, such that it caught her breath.

  It was her turn and she spoke the words, intending them to remain nothing but words, but they seemed to break free from her control and became her true vow.

  “Will there be a ring?” Father Benedict asked softly.

  She had not thought of a ring and so shook her head no, but Gavin pulled something from beneath his tunic that hung on a gold chain around his neck.

  “This is the ring my father gave my mother,” said Gavin, holding up a simple gold band.

  There was something surprisingly poignant about the simple, thin band of gold. She had seen much larger rings, rings festooned with glittering gems, rings that were worth a fortune. Yet she was unnerved by this simple band. This band was a wedding ring. This band…this band made it real.

  She tried to give a subtle shake of her head. She should not wear his mother’s ring, but Gavin had already taken her right hand.

  “In the name of the father,” he said, holding the ring over her thumb. “The son.” The ring was held over her index finger. “And the Holy Ghost.” It hovered over her middle finger. “Amen.” He slid the simple band of gold onto her ring finger.

  Chills ran up her spine. His eyes met hers, and she could no longer look anywhere else. He was here, larger and taller and more real than any of her worries or fears. At that moment, she forgot that it was all pretend, forgot everything, and became lost in his eyes.

  Gavin met her gaze unwaveringly and encircled his fingers around her hands holding them closer. “With this ring, I thee wed; this gold and silver I thee give; with my body I thee worship; and with this dowry I thee endow.”

  Everything else faded away and it was Gavin and she only before the door of the church. Vaguely, she was aware the priest was giving his blessing, but all she could do was stare into Gavin’s eyes. They had done it. They were married. Truly married. Could this be undone? Did she wish it to be?

  Father Benedict cleared his throat, getting their attention. She wondered how long she’d been staring into the eyes of Sir Gavin in silence, like a fool. “Some of my more amorous couples choose this moment to seal their vow with a kiss,” suggested the priest with a mischievous glint in his eye.

  Before she could think of a response, Gavin leaned down and placed
a chaste kiss on her cheek. She should have been shocked that he would take such liberties in public. Instead, she was annoyed he had not taken more. She forced herself to look away from him. She should not have these feelings for this man. It was wrong, and yet everything within her told her this was her true husband.

  The priest made the sign of the cross over them, his kind eyes laughing with amusement. “I bless your journey. May it be a safe one and bring you great joy.”

  Marie Colette walked down the church steps on the arm of Sir Gavin, her new husband. She walked faster than normal, wanting to escape the confusing situation and think logically. Unfortunately, before she had gone far, she was subjected to a most unseemly hug from the landlady. She looked to Gavin for support against the attack, but he merely smiled benignly at the scene.

  “Ah, what a lovely bride you make. I wish you all the best, my dears, all the best this world can offer. I cannot remember when I have seen a couple more in love. It reminds me of my dear Henri.” She blotted her eyes with a handkerchief and gave Marie Colette another unwanted hug.

  “See that English captain?” The landlady jerked her head toward Captain Withers. “He thought you was some fancy lady, but I told him you were not the high and mighty lady that they were looking for. They want some lady who is going to marry a Scottish lord. Of course, now they know you’re not her—now that you’ve married our dear Sir Gavin.”

  “Thank you, madam,” said Colette with all sincerity. Without the landlady’s interference, she would have been taken captive.

  “Yes, our great thanks, but now if we are going to make yer brother’s ship, we should make haste to Bordeaux,” said Gavin, eyeing the road ahead.

  “Oh yes, listen to me prattle on when there’s things to be done. You have a pleasant journey. My brother will take care of you. But how are you going to travel with your little one?” She gestured to Pippa, holding the baby.

  “I am not certain,” began Colette.

  In a flash, the landlady, a most indomitable person, arranged for Pippa and the baby to be taken from the church by wagon to Bordeaux, while Gavin and Colette would walk back to the village to ride their horses to town. Gavin had already arranged for the horses to be sold there.