“Oh, my,” Emma said, in the same mocking tone. “How will you ever decide what to pack?”
Although very wealthy, Katherine had few belongings worth taking. Uncle Ambrose had confiscated all her jewelry and anything else of real value, ostensibly to safe-guard it. He only provided her with necessities—“to protect her from the sin of vanity”—so she took very good care of the few worn, faded garments she owned. She selected two white linen kirtles and the two least shabby of her gowns: a gold one made of soft light wool and a heavier, dark green one. Although the summer days had been very warm, she knew they were traveling north to the Highlands, where even in summer the nights might be cold, so she packed a woolen mantle, too. She removed the most important items from her sewing basket, rolled them in a short length of linen, and tucked it into the bag. This left room for several shifts; some linen toweling; the leather bag containing a small supply of healing herbs and other ingredients for potions, balms, and poultices; and her one luxury, a cake of sweet smelling soap imported from Spain. Finally she packed the only belongings holding any sentimental significance to her: her mother’s ivory comb and her father’s jeweled dagger.
“I suppose I’m ready,” she said to Emma.
“Go on, then. I’ll carry your things down.”
“Emma, I might not get to see you again before I leave. I may not be able to say farewell to anybody. Please tell everyone I will miss them and I will keep you all in my prayers. Take care of yourself, Emma, and stay out of my uncle’s way.” Before Emma had a chance to burst into tears again, Katherine gave her a quick hug and left.
~ * ~
After finalizing the business agreements relating to the marriage, Niall and Diarmad waited in the great hall with Ambrose Ruthven while Lady Katherine readied herself. Eventually Niall had to turn his back to stare into the cold hearth because he couldn’t stand seeing Ruthven’s barely contained joy. The greedy bastard’s pleasure sickened Niall, yet he couldn’t deny feeling a certain amount of disgust at himself as well. It took a very desperate man to accept this betrothal. Niall had been beyond desperate. He had no funds to pay even the interest on the crushing debt Clan MacIan held. He had journeyed to Edinburgh to request financial help from the king, only to learn King David II had a significant debt of his own. He owed King Edward III of England a colossal ransom—one hundred thousand marks sterling, with ten thousand marks due yearly on the nativity of St. John the Baptist. Apparently he had no compunction about bartering royal favor for coin, and clearly Ruthven had purchased such favor, inadvertently providing the solution to Niall’s problem as well.
Niall had to admit Ruthven’s attempts to deter his niece’s suitors were particularly effective. He remembered his stepmother’s unpleasant reaction when she learned of his pending marriage.
“Niall,” she had said, “I have heard about this creature you plan to wed. My poor boy, it must be humiliating to know this is the best you can do. Why I have heard, from people who know, mind you, not only is she brainless, but she is practically an ogre. They say she even has fits, and is a hunchback.” When he failed to respond to Eithne’s barbs, she added, “Well, hopefully your brother will find a more suitable wife. He is so good-natured and handsome, we will be able to have a proper wedding. Perhaps he will give me grandchildren of whom I can be proud.”
Even the king believed he might be saving Katherine from the humiliation of remaining unattached if he ordered her to enter a convent, leaving Ambrose with everything. He had all but agreed to do so until Niall approached him for aid. Niall assumed after seven years in exile and eleven more held captive for ransom, albeit not in depravation, the king would have some qualms about forcing a young woman into a cloister. Evidently, he had no qualms about marrying her to a financially desperate Highland Laird, who would trade her title and lands for a larger dowry in coin. Why was it, for men like Ruthven, problems had a way of disappearing if the man threw enough money at them?
As the silence grew heavy, Niall turned back around. He was pleased to see the happiness originally written on Ruthven’s face replaced with consternation. Perhaps he was questioning the wisdom of giving his niece away to a complete stranger.
With Niall’s attention on him once again, Ruthven cleared his throat a little to break the silence, then said, “Ahem...uh, Laird MacIan, it occurs to me that you and my sweet, gentle niece will be traveling for several days to reach your home, and will likely be sleeping out of doors.”
Niall arched an eyebrow and gave a slight nod, disdain etched on his features. “Yes. Well, you understand that my dear Katherine is of course innocent and might appreciate privacy.” A wiser man would have taken heed of the rising fury on the Highlander’s face, but Ambrose charged on. “I think it would be best if you wait until you reach your home to...consummate your marriage.”
“Sir, would ye willingly marry your niece to a man without honor?” Laird MacIan said with menace.
“N—no, of course not,” Ruthven stammered.
“Then ye can be assured I do not need ye to school me in decency!” he roared.
~ * ~
When she returned to the great hall, Katherine saw her uncle sitting in his upholstered chair looking oddly uncomfortable. Both Highlanders stood silently by the hearth. Father James had arrived and even his chatter about the weather and crops didn’t lessen the tension in the room. He was the first to notice her as she slipped quietly into the large room. He stopped mid-sentence, proclaiming, “My lady, you are radiant.”
Laird MacIan looked up and practically gawked at the sight of her. Katherine had dressed like the noblewoman she was, instead of as a servant. The gown she wore clung to her, revealing her womanly curves, and her hair, released from its braid, shimmered around her shoulders like a golden brown cloud.
After registering Laird MacIan’s look of awe, she kept her eyes cast down so he couldn’t read the fear on her face, but she was sure no one could miss the way her hands trembled.
“Well, we have a wedding to perform,” Father James said, motioning to the door of the great hall “Shall we go to the chapel?”
News of the wedding had spread through Cotharach and its village like a brushfire. Now, in addition to the Highland warriors, the staff at Cotharach and many villagers gathered in the courtyard to witness Lady Ruthven’s marriage. The ceremony began outside the chapel with Father James asking the assembly if anyone knew of any reason why Laird Niall and Lady Katherine could not be married. Although no one spoke, a million reasons flew through Katherine’s mind. The priest continued, “Niall MacIan, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife? Wilt thou love her, and honor her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, and forsaking all others on account of her, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”
She heard Niall answer, “I will,” his voice deep and melodic.
Katherine felt strangely detached as she heard the priest ask for her assent. “I will,” she answered, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. This isn’t a nightmare, it’s really happening, and it is forever.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
“I do,” answered Ambrose as he stepped away.
Katherine could all but hear him thinking and good riddance.
The couple then made their vows of marriage. After Katherine said, “And thereto I plight thee my troth,” Father James took the ring Niall gave him, blessed it, and returned it to Niall, who placed it on the third finger of Katherine’s left hand. She had always heard a vein ran directly from this finger to the heart and for this reason a wedding band was worn there as a symbol of love. It seemed slightly ridiculous to Katherine, given she had only just met the man who placed it there.
Father blessed the couple and led them into the chapel, followed by Diarmad and Ambrose. The bride and groom knelt before the altar while the priest prayed again. Kneeling beside her new husband, Katherine felt very small; the top of her head didn’t reach hi
s shoulder.
There would not be a nuptial Mass, so after the prayers, Father James gave them a final blessing. When he had finished, he beamed warmly and said, “You may kiss the bride.” Niall tipped her chin up and kissed her. She had expected he would give her only a chaste peck, but once he started, she was amazed by how warm and soft his lips felt and that he held her there, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling away. Stunned, she raised her hands to touch her lips. They tingled where his had touched her, and she hadn’t wanted him to stop.
He looked momentarily stunned as well, but rapidly recovered. “Say your goodbyes quickly,” he told her. “We are leaving.”
Her uncle approached and kissed Katherine on both cheeks. “Goodbye, my dear. I can’t tell you how much we will miss you.” He spoke blandly with an insipid expression on his face.
That is because you won’t miss me. She didn’t know why he bothered with the farce, because Laird MacIan had already left the chapel. She managed to say, “Goodbye, Uncle,” civilly.
Lord Ruthven returned to the keep, not bothering to see them off. Father James gave her a hug and Katherine couldn’t suppress a wince.
Father looked concerned and asked, “Katherine, dear, will you be all right? Perhaps you should tell your new husband about your back. You have a long journey ahead.”
“No Father. Please don’t say anything. Nothing good can come from telling him that now. I’ll be fine.”
He shook his head but didn’t argue, and taking her arm, walked with her into the courtyard, saying, “Katherine, I’m certain you will be a wonderful wife and mother.”
She loved the old priest, so she smiled and teased, “How do you know I’ll be a wonderful wife; you’ve never been married.”
He chuckled and took both her hands in his. “My sweet girl, this world is full of people whose first concern is usually their own needs or desires. You’re one of the few who always considers the needs of others before your own. You have learned the surest way to open yourself to hurt is to love, and yet you love anyway. How could one so full of love and compassion not be a wonderful wife and mother?” He smiled, traced a cross on her forehead with his thumb, and kissed her on the cheek, saying, “Go with God, my dear one.”
Katherine squeezed his hands and smiled at him, blinking back tears. It could be the last time she would ever see this gentle man. She couldn’t speak. She took a deep breath to muster her courage, and walked toward the gray mare the stable master led. Before she reached them, Laird MacIan waved the stable master away. “Lady Katherine will ride with me.”
~ * ~
Her vehement and panic-stricken, “Nay!” surprised Niall.
She hurried towards him. “I can ride very well, my lord. Stormy is mine. My father gave her to me years ago.”
Perhaps for the first time since he’d met her, she wasn’t trying to hide the emotion she felt. While he expected to see defiance, fitting his expectations of a pampered noblewoman, instead he saw fear. On the verge of barking at her for publically challenging him, when he caught that glimpse of raw fear he hesitated.
“I’m sure ye do ride well, for a woman, but the journey will be hard, over very rough terrain. Your mare is not sturdy enough. It would be cruel.”
She laid a hand on his arm, stopping him before he turned away. Looking him in the eye, she leaned close, saying in a voice so low only he could hear it, “It will be cruel to leave her.”
Unable to ignore the beseeching look she gave him, after a moment he said, “We will take her without a rider.” The sudden warmth he felt when he saw the tension leave her body and heard her sigh of relief, surprised him. He helped her into the saddle of his huge warhorse. She put her right knee over the pommel and he mounted behind her, pulling her close. He inhaled her sweet, clean scent and her soft, round bottom pressed intimately against his groin, fanning the warmth he’d felt before into full flame. He frowned as Katherine stiffened and leaned forward ever so slightly, holding herself away from him.
Having removed Stormy’s saddle, the stable master handed the reins to one of Niall’s men and they set out. After they cleared the castle gate, Katherine said quietly, “Thank you for bringing my mare, but you don’t plan to take her the whole way, do you.”
She hadn’t asked it as a question; she simply made the statement. Her accurate assessment of the situation surprised him. In fact, this day and his new wife seemed to be full of surprises. “Nay, I don’t,” he agreed. “Our pace and the terrain really will be too hard on her. I assume there is some reason why ye were afraid to leave her behind?”
“Aye. My uncle is...cruel.”
The brief pause in her comment made Niall wonder what other description of her uncle she had censored before arriving at “cruel.”
“Tomorrow we will be passing through a holding belonging to one of my allies. The mare will be well-treated there.”
Katherine gave a slight nod of her head. Then her brow furrowed and she appeared worried about something else. Looking as if she was about to confess some mortal sin, she said, “My lord—”
“I am your husband now, call me Niall.”
“Niall,” she said and took a breath as if steeling herself before launching into her confession. “I have done something, and I hope you won’t be angry, but I really saw no other option.” She felt his body become tense, but she went on. “When you arrived, did you see Tomas, the young stable boy?”
“I remember a small lad,” he said cautiously.
“Tomas’ parents are dead. He lived with his grandfather, our former stable master, but that kind, old man passed away a few months ago. Tomas continued to work in the stables, under my uncle’s new stable master, but he is as bad as my uncle. So you see, I was worried about Tomas. Without me, there really is no one in any position to protect him.” She paused, biting her lower lip.
“Are ye coming to the part where ye are going to tell me what ye did?” Niall asked, not attempting to cover the frustration he felt.
Katherine cringed a little at his tone. “Aye. Well, when my uncle summoned Father James to marry us, I sent a message to Tomas, telling him to follow the northwest road from the village until he reached the tree line and to wait there for us—so we could bring him with us.”
“Bring him with us?” Niall said, completely dumbfounded by her audacity. “Bring him with us?” he repeated incredulously, “Are ye asking me to steal another man’s serf?”
“Tomas isn’t a serf. His father and grandfather were hired freemen,” she assured him hurriedly.
“And why do ye think he will fare better with me as his laird?”
She leaned a little, turned, and tilted her head up so she could look him in the eyes. “My Lord—” She paused at his stern expression and corrected herself. “Niall. If I didn’t think life with you would be a vast improvement over that with my uncle, I would not have agreed to marry you.” At his look of doubt, she added, “I know King David ordered this marriage, but I would have joined the nuns at St. Oda’s before consenting to marry a man like Ambrose Ruthven.”
Although surprised by the intensity of her statement, he knew it didn’t take much to be a better man than Ruthven. Still, he took some bit of pleasure in hearing his new wife say it.
“Diarmad,” he called to his commander, riding in the lead.
“Aye, Laird?”
“There will be a lad waiting for us as we reach the tree line.”
“Aye, Laird. I’ve already seen a lad ducking in and out from behind the trees. He looks to be the stable-boy from Cotharach.”
“He’ll be going with us.”
“Aye, Laird.” Diarmad quietly chuckled.
Niall glanced at Katherine. Almost undone by the brilliant smile she gave him, he could do nothing but stare. She blushed, dropped her head, and turned away from his gaze to face front, but that brush with delight unsettled him. He did not need a wife, he reminded himself. He believed a wife could only be a distracting nuisance. He certainly did not nee
d a wife whose smile made him forget everything except thinking of ways to make her smile again. He had learned the hard way that a soft body and pretty face can blind a man to treachery.
When they reached Tomas, another of Niall’s guard, a young man, whom she had heard addressed as “Fingal,” called to him and pulled the lad up onto his saddle.
It didn’t take Tomas long to begin asking Fingal a never-ending stream of questions.
Chapter 2
Katherine could hear Tomas’ chattering, but couldn’t concentrate on his words. Niall hadn’t exaggerated—they were traveling at a brutal pace. Katherine’s back became extremely painful as the day wore on. She couldn’t stand the friction created by resting against her new husband’s rock hard chest, yet holding her body forward made her muscles ache unbearably.
She wondered if Niall noticed the white-knuckled grip she had on the edge of the saddle, or if she appeared as stiff and uncomfortable as she felt. She had told him earlier that she could ride “very well,” but he was probably questioning the truth of that now.
Stopping once, only briefly, to water the horses, they travelled for hours. Finally, shortly before sunset, they stopped for the night in a clearing near a small loch. Niall lifted her off the horse and looked at her, apparently startled.
“Lass, ye look pale and exhausted. How can riding for a few hours drain ye so profoundly? Go rest,” he said, dismissing her. Then he turned back to his horse to settle him for the night.
Katherine ignored his rude assessment of her; she was used to worse. Tired and sore, she needed to move a bit to loosen her stiff joints. She looked around and, seeing Stormy, walked over to her. Her pet whinnied and tossed her head as Katherine approached. It had clearly been a hard day for the mare, too, even without a rider. She stroked Stormy’s velvet nose and leaned her head against the horse’s strong neck. Her father had given her the beautiful grey and Katherine had adored Stormy immediately. After her father’s death, her beloved horse became a refuge. When things became too difficult, she could escape, and, even if only briefly, forget her grief while flying across a meadow on Stormy’s back.
Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 Page 2