Tadhg answered, “I will,” in a strong, clear voice.
Then it was Mairead’s turn, and she too answered, “I will,” with no hesitation.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
“I do,” answered Mairead’s father and he turned to her, kissed her cheek, and whispered, “I’m very proud of ye, love.” Then he stepped back and moved Mairead until she stood directly beside Tadhg.
After they had exchanged their vows, Father Colm asked for the ring, and Flan stepped forward, giving it to him. The priest blessed it before passing it to Tadhg, who placed it on the third finger of Mairead’s left hand. “With this ring, I thee wed, in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.”
Father blessed them and led them into the chapel, followed by Annag, Fingal, Flan, the MacKenzies, the lairds of all of the clans present, and as many of the rest of the assembly as could fit for the nuptial Mass. The chapel doors remained open for the benefit of those who stood in the courtyard. When the Mass was over, Father Colm gave the couple a final blessing, announcing loudly, “Laird Matheson, ye may kiss yer bride.” Tadhg looked into her eyes and kissed her soundly. A deafening cheer went up. His kiss left her breathless and blissfully unaware of the crowd for a moment. When she recovered she blushed, but she couldn’t remember ever being happier.
They led the assembly back into the great hall for the lavish wedding feast. Sweetened wine mulled with spices, honeyed mead, and ale flowed freely. They feasted on roasted goose, partridge, and quail, as well as venison and boar. Cabbage, carrots, parsnips, and leeks accompanied the meal, as did platters of cheeses, fresh apples and pears, walnuts, almonds, imported dates, a variety of breads, and preserves of strawberry and red currents. The meal was finished with sweet cakes and tarts.
After everyone had eaten their fill, servants removed the trestle tables so the music and dancing could begin. Mairead loved music, and apparently Tadhg had spared no expense to arrange for a large number of excellent minstrels, who provided music throughout the evening.
Mairead danced with Tadhg first, before her father claimed her for a dance. It was common for the bride to dance with other honored guests, but perhaps knowing this would be challenging for her, Tadhg stayed close. Over the course of the evening, she danced with Lairds Chisholm, Ranald, MacDonnell, MacNicol, Davidson, and MacBain. They were all men with whom she was acquainted, as Hogan MacBain was her brother-in-law and the others were fathers-in-law to her siblings. Laird MacIan asked her for a dance and she tensed. Tadhg looked poised to step in, but somehow just knowing he was there gave her the courage to dance with this huge man whom she had only just met.
When the dance was over, they joined Katherine and Tadhg, who had been watching. Tadhg caught her and to everyone’s delight, gave her a quick kiss.
“Ye are a wonderful dancer,” exclaimed Katherine. “I love watching the Highland dances, but I’m not very skilled at them myself,” she confided.
Laird MacIan slipped his arm around his wife, kissing her cheek. “But there is no one I would rather dance with than ye, my love.” He pulled her laughing and protesting away with him to join the next dance.
Mairead smiled after them, fanning herself with her hands.
Tadhg gave her an appraising look. “It looks as if ye could use a wee break from dancing.”
“Aye, that I could,” she admitted honestly, so he led her off to get a drink before another guest could claim her.
As they walked to the laird’s table, her father, who was well into his cups, called to her. “Mairead, will ye not play an air on the harp for yer Da?”
“My harp hasn’t been unpacked yet, Da,” Mairead said, thankful for the excuse.
“Lass, I am sure yon harper would let ye play his,” her father persisted.
Mairead was mortified. “Oh, Da, nay, don’t ask me to perform, not in front of all of these people.”
“Lass, ye’re more talented than any musician here and yer new husband has never heard ye play. If not for me, play something for him.”
She turned terror-filled eyes to Tadhg, who just smiled at her and said lightly, “Laird MacKenzie, any other evening I would love to hear Mairead play the harp, but it has been a very long day. I am sure ye will forgive me but right now, I am anxious to escape with my bride.” Before anyone could object, Tadhg whisked her out of the hall.
Chapter 6
When they were out of earshot, Mairead whispered, “Thank ye.”
Tadhg laughed. “It was the truth. I am anxious to escape with my bride.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss. Then he smiled at her, took her hand, and continued to lead her to his chamber in the south tower.
“We’re leaving the celebration?”
“Aye, little one. I thought it best to spirit ye away before they could call for the bedding ritual. I suspect it might embarrass ye.” Although the ceremony could be as simple as the priest blessing the marriage bed, it generally happened in the presence of friends and family after they put the couple into the bed. Tadhg worried a ceremony like this would have been more than his shy bride could handle.
Her relief was palpable. “Oh, Tadhg, thank ye. I hadn’t even thought about the bedding ritual. But what if—what if...”
“What if they call for it anyway? Ye have nothing to worry about, Mairead. I talked to Father Colm about this yesterday. As ye can imagine, he understands yer shyness. He agreed to slip away earlier and bless the bed. If the crowd calls for it, he will assure them it has been done.”
They passed through an antechamber before entering his bedchamber. Like everything else at Cnocreidh, the laird’s bedchamber was very large and comfortably appointed. He pulled her into his arms and gave her another kiss. She melted against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her warm response pleased him. He found her entirely delicious, but he needed to proceed very carefully. With great tenderness, he made love to his his little bride for the first time.
Afterwards she lay in his arms running her hands lightly down his arms and across his chest. He captured one of her hands in his and kissed her fingertips. “Are ye all right?”
“Oh, aye. More than all right.” Her voice still sounded breathless, and she felt a bit dazed.
“I didn’t hurt ye overmuch?”
“Nay…well not much.” She flashed him a shy smile.
He smiled back. “Mairead, my sweet, ye were still a virgin.”
“What? Nay, I couldn’t have been.”
“Sweetling, ye were.”
“I don’t understand. I felt him—there. It hurt.”
“I know the miscreant who attacked ye hurt ye, sweetling, but he didn’t didn’t take yer virginity and he’ll never touch ye again.”
She smiled and snuggled closer.
He buried his head in her hair, inhaling deeply. “I love the feel of ye in my arms and ye smell heavenly.”
“It must be the thyme.”
“The time for what?”
Mairead laughed. “Thyme, the herb, for courage. It was in my bath, my bouquet, and the wreath on my head.”
“Oh, Mairead, were ye so afraid, then?”
“Honestly, nay.”
“That pleases me more than I can tell ye.” He hugged her tightly for a moment and, kissing the top of her head, said, “Good night, my sweet little bride.”
~ * ~
“Good night,” she whispered back. Soon his breathing became slow and regular, signaling that he had fallen asleep. Sated and relaxed, she sighed happily. The faint scent of thyme assailed her. Thyme for courage. Nay, she didn’t need it for this. She was more comfortable and content than she had ever been. Basking in this serenity, she drifted into a dreamless sleep.
They slept again in each other’s arms, waking well after the sun was up. In the light of day, some of her bashfulness returned. She found her clothing had been moved into the wardrobe and one of the chests. She washed quickly, dressing in a deep russet léine cinched at her waist with a leather belt.
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He, too, rose to dress and picked up a small vial that had been on the bedside table. “Well now, we don’t need this.”
She gave him a quizzical look over her shoulder. “What is it?”
“A vial of sheep’s blood.” At her confused expression, he grinned. “Do ye remember the promise I made ye in the chapel, the night ye arrived?”
“Oh. That was—ye were going to...” She glanced at the evidence of her virginity on the bed. She giggled nervously. “Nay, I suppose we don’t need it. But, Tadhg, thank ye for thinking of it.” She blushed crimson.
He chuckled, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her soundly. “Ye have nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetling, but I do love to see ye blush. Ye are so very beautiful.” He kissed her again before releasing her to finish dressing.
She removed a cream-colored plaid with green, gold, and russet stripes from the chest containing her clothing and started to fasten it around her shoulders. Tadhg stopped her. “I would like for ye to have this.” He fastened her plaid for her with an intricately filigreed gold brooch. In a voice tinged with sadness, he added, “It belonged to my mother.”
“Tadhg, I would be honored.” She rested her hands on his shoulders while he adjusted the brooch. Her brothers had told her Tadhg’s mother and younger brother had died of the plague ten years earlier while visiting the royal court in Edinburgh. When Tadhg had the brooch secured, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him, wanting to banish the shadow of loss from his eyes.
When their lips parted he said, “Now, no more of that, lass, or ye’ll have me taking ye back to bed.”
She laughed at him. “Ah, ye have discovered my evil scheme to avoid the throng of MacKenzies who no doubt lay in wait below.”
“There is no point trying to avoid them, little one. In just a few short days, I have learned it is nigh on impossible to do that. We will brave them together.”
“Oh, Tadhg, I’m so sorry if they have been a bother.”
He laughed. “They are no bother to me, pet. I always envied yer brothers for the close relationship they have. Being part of a large and loving family is a good thing. But I do see how ye can be overwhelmed by them.”
“When Da returned from the Michaelmas Fair, they were all surprised to learn the betrothal he arranged would require me to leave home. When they protested—”
“They protested?”
“Aye, well, not Peadar and Quinn. It was mostly my sisters and really only because they knew I didn’t want to leave home. But I overheard Da say perhaps it would be best if I had to ‘stand on my own two feet’ and didn’t have them to shield me.” Admitting this left her feeling somewhat ashamed. She looked down, avoiding his gaze.
He nudged her chin back up and said, “Mairead, there is nothing wrong with guarding something which is precious to ye. Yet I think in their love for ye, they built walls to protect ye without ever looking inside them. They didn’t notice how much ye were hurting.”
Mairead was astonished by how accurately he had assessed the situation. Clearly, she had allowed it to happen because she too had walled part of herself away to avoid the pain of facing the trauma. In a few short days, the man who stood before her had destroyed those walls, allowing her to share her pain with him and thus release some of it. She felt stronger and surer because of it. She didn’t know if it was possible to love someone in so short a time, but she believed she might love him already. Perhaps it was a ridiculous notion, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to voice it. Instead, she palmed his face and pulled him into another kiss.
When she released him, he hugged her tightly, saying, “Ye delight me, lass.” He stepped back, took her hand firmly in his, and said, “Lady Matheson, may I escort ye to breakfast?”
“Anything ye wish, Laird Matheson,” she answered. The heat in his gaze warmed her to her very soul.
They descended to the great hall where Mairead’s mother and sisters did indeed meet them. In her hand, her mother held a linen brèid or kertch. Made from a square of pure white linen and folded into a triangle, it was a headdress worn by every married woman in the Highlands and was as important as a wedding band. It was a symbol of the Holy Trinity under whose guidance the bride would walk. Traditionally, the bride’s mother tied it on her head the morning after the wedding.
Her mother hugged her and said,
“May the blessings of the Holy Trinity be on ye, and protect ye from all evil.
May ye have health and strength and peace and may ye live a life that is pleasing to God.
As ye began yer married life blessed by God’s Holy Church,
May ye continue to trust in Him and may He always hear the prayers ye hold in yer heart.”
Then her mother tied the kertch on Mairead’s head, saying,
“As ye go forward now under this sign of the Trinity, May the Holy Spirit bless ye with wisdom, understanding, courage, right judgment, knowledge, reverence, and piety.”
Annag stepped forward and, giving her a kiss on the cheek, said,
“Through His grace may the Lord help ye to be virtuous, and gracious.”
Then each sister and sister-in-law followed suit:
“May He help ye to be pure in word and deed,” said Rhona.
“May He help ye to be hospitable and generous,” said Marjean.
“May He help ye to be kind and compassionate,” said Naveen.
“May He help ye to be strong and honorable,” said Lily.
“May He bless ye richly with children,” said Rose.
Then her mother ended the prayer with,
“May the sacrifice which Christ made on the Holy Cross keep ye humble and help yer faith never waiver. In the name of the Holy Trinity may more than a hundred thousand blessings go with ye under this kertch. Amen.”
Then she hugged her daughter. The great hall had fallen silent, but as her sisters also hugged her, the noise level returned to normal. Eventually extricating herself from them, she walked with Tadhg to the head table to break their fast. Niall and Katherine MacIan sat there and Katherine’s eyes looked misty as she cuddled her baby daughter in her arms.
“Is aught amiss?” asked Mairead with concern.
“I think those are happy tears,” said the MacIan’s foster son, Tomas, in a loud whisper.
“Aye, they are, Tomas.” Katherine laughed and brushed the tears away. “I was just thinking back to the morning when I received my kertch.”
Mairead just smiled politely and nodded. According to the stories, Lady Katherine was from the lowlands, and while Katherine wore a kertch, Mairead was fairly certain it wasn’t a practice in the lowlands. Also, the story of how the MacIans were married had spread to the farthest reaches of the Highlands. Mairead couldn’t imagine who gave Katherine her kertch, but she was not comfortable asking her about it. She was pleased when Katherine told the story anyway.
“It was my first morning at Duncurra and my wonderful new clanswomen presented it to me and said the blessing. I was so touched by the way they immediately accepted me.”
“I remember that day too,” said Tomas, “because it was the day ye became my mama.”
“Aye, it was,” she hugged him tightly with one arm until he wiggled away from her, causing her to chuckle.
~ * ~
As was traditional, the wedding festivities continued for two more days. It was all a bit overwhelming, but Mairead found she became more relaxed and less reserved as the days passed. She assumed it might have something to do with the wonderful nights with her new husband that followed each day of feasting. He loved her well, and her shyness fled when she was alone with him. It felt comfortable and right simply being with him. It was as if she found a piece of herself she didn’t even know she had been missing.
Most guests began leaving the morning after the third day of feasting, particularly those who had a great distance to travel. Winter snows could begin to fall in November and travel through the Highlands became treacherous. A few stayed one or two more n
ights.
It was finally time for Mairead to say goodbye to her family, and she had been dreading it. At dawn, five days after the wedding, the great procession of MacKenzies left in the same way they arrived less than a fortnight earlier, minus one daughter. She and Flan waved and watched until they were out of sight. Tadhg stood silently beside her with a slightly worried expression. Mairead thought perhaps he was expecting tears. After she had sobbed all over him the evening they met, Mairead couldn’t blame him. Frankly, although seeing them leave made her heart ache, she would not allow herself to give in to tears.
As they walked back to the keep together, Mairead said, “This seems so odd. I have always been ‘the sister’, or ‘the daughter’ or ‘the aunt’, but here I won’t be those things.”
“Ye’ll still be my sister,” said Flan.
“Aye, she will,” said Tadhg, “but now she will be yer lady as well, just as I am yer brother-in-law, but I am yer laird, too.”
“Laird MacBain is also my brother-in-law.”
“Aye, but ye aren’t Laird MacBain’s squire, ye are mine. Ye must never forget that now.”
He nodded solemnly. “Aye, Laird, I won’t forget it.”
“Lady Matheson,” said Mairead, as if trying to become accustomed to the sound of it. “It’s a little daunting. I mean, I know what is expected and how to manage a laird’s household. Mama made sure we all did. But still, I never really thought...” Truthfully, she was more than well equipped to manage his household. As the last unmarried daughter at home, she had taken on many responsibilities to help her mother.
“What, lass?” he prodded.
“I guess I just never imagined being married to the laird of a clan. I assumed the only home I would ever manage would be the one I was raised in.” She considered everything for a moment before adding, “I guess the rest of my life starts now.”
Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 Page 29