by Wine, Mary
Of course, more than one bride had dealt with such circumstances using her own devices.
Cora stood for a long moment. Even knowing she’d be branded as a slut wasn’t enough to make her go back and bloody the sheet. For it would be a lie. She might have been the source of gossip for a multitude of reasons but never once had she been guilty of lying.
Unbridled, aye.
Discontented with her place as a woman, some said so.
But she’d come to her wedding night pure. Within the hour, the matrons of Clan McKay would return for the sheet, and they’d call her a fallen woman. Yet it wouldn’t be true. And soiling the sheet would only brand Cora as a coward as well.
So, she turned around and went toward the wardrobe. Of the three dresses, she reached for the sturdiest. It was a wool dress. The cloth was dyed a light green color and had only a few bits of burgundy wool for trim. Yet, it was warm and fit her well enough. Most importantly, it didn’t need a set of stays. The bodice was quilted, and stiff reeds were set into the channels to support her breasts. A row of eyelets ran up either side of the front, allowing Cora to dress by herself.
She sat down at a small dressing table and began to brush out her hair. She’d just finished braiding it when she heard the women beginning their climb from the ground floor. There were a few poorly muffled giggles as they made their way up the three stories of steps. Cora stood and faced the door. There was a knock, but the women didn’t wait for permission to open it.
They pushed the door in and flooded forward.
“Oh, my.”
“Well then…”
“’Twas more than gossip…”
The looks came, harsh and critical. Cora stood still as the women aimed their judgment at her. Noreen clicked her tongue as the Head-of-House pulled the sheet off the bed. There were times when it seemed like the very minutes, which made up and hour, were, in fact, sharp daggers. Each one stabbed into Cora as the women leveled their disgust at her.
When they left, Cora was sure it should have been well into the afternoon because of how long it felt like they’d been glaring at her. Instead, she discovered it barely past daybreak. Someone had opened the window shutters in the chamber. It afforded her a view of the sun coming up on the horizon.
Well, it seemed the day was going to begin no matter what shame the McKay seemed to think was due her. Life went on. Cora drew in a deep breath. When she let it out, she felt the need to move. Now certainly wasn’t the time to start crying over something she could not change.
Besides, she’d learned long ago to maintain her confidence, for there were many who didn’t view her well.
She went back to the wardrobe and withdrew a sturdy length of wool to use as an airsaid. It was better than a cloak, for she might use it to shield herself from the rain as well as a good blanket. She shook it out with a snap and pleated it before slipping a belt beneath it and buckling it around her waist. The fabric fell down the back of her skirt like a kilt. One-third of it was above the belt, and she might raise it up later to shield her head.
Ready.
Cora drew in another breath and turned toward the chamber door.
Aye, she was ready. She’d go home and write Cormac Grant a letter herself. No more waiting on the man’s whim.
And she would forget Faolan McKay.
Something shifted inside her, but Cora shoved it aside. She refused to think of a man who’d abandoned her.
And that was that.
*
“I wondered.”
Cora jumped.
Faolan was on the landing, pressed against the wall. The women had missed him as he blended into the morning shadows. The moment she stepped through the doorway, he emerged.
“Ye wondered what?” Cora inquired. She didn’t like the way her voice rose, betraying just how unsettled she was.
Faolan strode closer until she was forced to either back into the chamber or tilt her head to maintain eye contact.
She stood in place, earning a twitching of one side of his mouth as he stopped only a single pace from her.
Why was she so very aware of him?
He’d left her to Noreen and the women of the McKay clan, and still, her heart started beating harder.
“I wondered if ye’d soil the sheet yerself,” he answered her softly.
Cora gasped. At last, outrage emerged above everything else. “I am no’ a liar.” She shoved him hard. “Or a coward to hide behind deception even if ye are acting like one by leaving me to face down the matrons.”
His eyes narrowed at the word coward. Her hand connected with his hard chest, but he didn’t even rock back on his heels. Instead, the force of her blow went right back up her arm and into her shoulder.
“There is no’ a man breathing that I’d take such an accusation from,” he informed her.
Faolan caught her nape and a handful of her skirt. She sucked in her breath, once again reminded of just how much strength he had.
“You were in the shadows, Chief McKay,” Cora growled at him. “Leaving me on my own. The sheet is bare because ye did no’ do yer part.”
“And here I thought ye were no’ a foolish lass,” Faolan muttered. He sounded distracted, and she realized his gaze had lowered to her lips.
“Do nae…”
His kiss was hard, smothering her.
A craving suddenly flickered to life inside her. A taste for the contact between them that Cora hadn’t anticipated at all. But the way he pushed his fingers through her hair fanned the tiny flame, igniting a fire that made her curl her fingers and grip his clothing.
She wanted him closer. Opening her mouth, she mimicked his kiss, seeking a way to participate. Being kissed wasn’t enough.
Not nearly enough.
But he suddenly pulled back. Cora gasped, the sound raw with how abrupt she found his action.
Faolan’s eyes were full of passion.
“Aye, ye should no’ look at me like that,” Faolan warned her. “For I am no’ playing at any lad’s game.”
Bitter disappointment was clawing at her insides. She might be a virgin, but Cora discovered herself understanding very clearly what she felt.
Desire.
She wanted Faolan to bed her, and there was no denying it.
“Game?” She suddenly felt her temper flare. “Ye most certainly are playing some sort of game Faolan McKay. At my expense.”
His eyes narrowed. She planted her hand on his chest and shoved hard.
“And ye had better get to telling me what it is ye want from me.”
He grunted. For a moment, she caught a glitter in his eyes, which stroked the fire burning inside her. There was something unspoken between them, and it seemed to be testing his resolve.
Good. At least she was not alone.
“I am no’ playing with ye, Cora,” Faolan said. “But ye can be sure me brother and his wife are very good at claiming prizes.” His expression tightened. “I’m doing me best to keep ye from becoming another of their victories.” He reached out and clasped her wrist. “We’ll go and get an annulment now. The priest is in the village. From there, I’ll get ye on yer way home.”
Annulment…
The word flashed through her like oil being tossed onto a fire. After the roar of the flames, she was left with burned skin that tingled with pain.
Cora lifted her hand and slapped him.
The sound was loud, bouncing between the stone walls of the tower. Faolan was taken off guard. He recoiled and grabbed both her wrists.
“Ye can nae mean to tell me ye crave to be me wife, Cora,” he growled. “I could have left ye here, at me brother’s mercy. And let me tell ye, lass, Malcolm has none in his black heart.”
“Ye could have no’ kissed me.”
His lips curved. It was a very male expression, one full of arrogance and pride. Cora lifted her knee, intent on jamming it into his crotch.
Faolan shifted, so all she hit was his thigh. He flipped her around, clamping his arms around h
er to contain her. She strained against him, but he had the advantage.
“Damn ye, Faolan.” She hissed as her strength failed her. She was left in his embrace, detesting the way her flesh soaked up every detail of just how hard he was. “I saved me first kiss. Ye should no’ have taken it.”
Her words seemed to surprise him. The hold he had on her wrists slacked. Cora twisted and wrenched herself from his embrace. But he’d turned her so that she was on the back of the landing now. The only way to escape was past him to the stairs. But the shocked expression on his face infuriated her further.
“Do nae doubt me,” she insisted. “I did nae soil the sheet because I will no’ stain me own honor. I’ve been promised since childhood. I did nae want to face a marriage with another man’s kiss lingering in me memory, always between me and my husband.”
Her temper was raging, but two tears escaped her eyes. She clenched her hands into fists as she struggled to breathe. “I wanted to give it me…best effort.”
He reached out and caught the tears. Faolan McKay, for all his hardness, stroked her cheeks with the gentlest of touches. Somehow, the contact was even more jarring than his kiss had been. She was shaken to her core as he withdrew his hands.
“Ye slapped me justly, Cora.”
He clasped his wide belt, clearly trying to temper his impulse to touch her. Faolan drew in a stiff breath and nodded, but his lips twitched again until he was grinning.
“’Tis the truth that I am no’ as sorry as I should be, for ye have proved to me that not all women are intent on taking as much as they can from a man.”
Noreen suddenly popped into Cora’s mind and Malcolm’s words about her choosing between the two brothers. “Noreen truly took yer brother in favor of ye?”
Maybe she shouldn’t have asked the question. It was personal, and yet, Cora wasn’t sorry. Faolan’s expression darkened, but he nodded.
“Aye. And we best go, for she has set her mind to having yer dowry.”
Faolan closed his fingers around her wrist once more. He turned and took a look down the stairs before he tugged her along behind him.
So, he hadn’t abandoned her.
Tested was, in fact, the correct word.
Perhaps she should have been outraged. Instead, Cora discovered herself basking in the knowledge that she had withstood such a difficult challenge. She’d proven her worth. With a man such as Faolan, such was more important than a fine dowry.
Which was precisely why Cora was smiling by the time they reached the bottom of those stairs. True happiness could never be bought.
No, it had to be earned.
*
“Cover yer hair, lass.”
Faolan was looking both ways before he ventured into the passageway at the bottom of the stairs. His grip was firm without being biting. Cora tugged the plaid up and over her head as they crossed the open space. Faolan made his way toward the kitchens. Voices came from the hall where the matrons had gone with the bedsheet. Those few maids still in the kitchens were clustered around the doorways as they strained their necks to get a view of what was going on.
Faolan tugged her out of a side door and into the smaller yard, which served the kitchens. Chickens were clucking softly, still on their nests, because whoever was assigned to gather eggs was watching the entertainment in the hall instead.
It wouldn’t last long, though.
Faolan wasted no time crossing the yard and taking her toward the main gate. The weather was gloomy, but that aided in their escape, for the few people outside had their heads ducked low as they tried to avoid the drizzle. No one wanted to stop and chat where they would end up wet. So, she and Faolan were simply another pair of bodies intent on getting to whatever task they had to complete.
The McKay church was outside the large wall running between the towers of the McKay stronghold. There was likely a chapel inside, but near the village, there was a church.
Faolan stopped at the doors and reached up to pull his cap off before he crossed the threshold. The candles of the altar had been light. The scent of beeswax floated on the morning air along with the scent of porridge.
“Ye’ve come too late for the morning mass.”
The priest who had married them the night before appeared from a side door. He dabbed at his lips before tucking his hands into the wide sleeve of his robe.
“Forgive me, Father.” Faolan inclined his head, more submissive than Cora had ever seen him. “We come to ask for an annulment. The vows ye blessed last night were under duress.”
The priest frowned. Two more of his order had appeared behind him. Cora lowered her chin. Meekness wasn’t misplaced in the house of God.
“Yet ye have consummated the vows.” The priest’s tone was firm.
“We did not,” Faolan argued.
“I watched Lady McKay bring the bedsheet down myself,” the priest continued. His gaze shifted to Cora for a moment before his expression deepened into one of displeasure.
Faolan’s grip on her wrist tightened. Cora drew in a stiff breath as his strength bruised her. He relaxed his hold the moment the sound got past her lip.
“As I said, Father, the vows were forced upon us, and it would appear those who favor greed are no’ above producing a false sheet to secure Mistress Mackenzie’s dowry. I swear to ye, there was no consummation, for I will not take a wife under such circumstances.”
All three priests stood side by side. Their robes seemed to blend together because they stood so close to one another. One leaned in to whisper to the man in the middle. He listened intently to his brother’s words before looking back at Faolan.
“How did Mistress Mackenzie land in yer care?”
“A flood washed her down a river,” Faolan answered.
“And…ye saved her life?”
“The lass is strong,” Faolan said. “I can nae take credit for her being alive.”
The second priest leaned toward his brother once again. This time the third one also pressed closer to hear what his brother was saying. They shared looks with one another before straightening and presenting a united front.
“God has brought ye together.” The priest held up his hand when Faolan made to interrupt. “It is true that I know yer half-brother has treated ye unkindly. But in order for me to perform an annulment, I will need witnesses to testify that the sheet was clean. There were many matrons who went with Lady McKay to fetch the sheet this morning. Bring me two of their number, and I will dissolve yer union.”
“But…who will speak against their lady?” Cora protested.
“The truth,” the priest’s eyes widened as his voice filled with passion, “should be spoken before anything else. For all sinners will be judged. The McKay are worthy of grace.”
“I understand, Father,” Faolan said.
Faolan renewed his grip on her wrist and tugged her out of the church.
“Ye need not keep pulling me along like an errant child,” Cora said once they were several steps from the church doorway. “I’ll not force ye to keep me.”
“Cora.”
“Enough,” Cora said. “I’ve an idea of who to start with when it comes to the women. But ye will be making me a promise first.”
Faolan inclined his head and peered at her intently.
“Brynna will speak the truth, but ye must not leave her to the retribution of the Head-of-House.”
She watched understanding dawn on his face.
“Ye have only Brynna’s word on the matter of why she was sent to me tower, lass,” Faolan replied. “Orla might have another side of the story to tell.”
It was a fair enough thing to say. Cora didn’t like it, though. Still, it spoke well of Faolan that he looked to see both sides of an issue before judging. She bit back the reply which wanted to cross her lips. He was a leader.
“It’s worth a try,” Faolan spoke as he looked toward the McKay stronghold.
Cora wanted to remain poised. But the determination Faolan displayed cut her deeply.
>
It shouldn’t.
Well, it did.
She grabbed a handful of her skirt and yanked it up so she might walk faster. “Since ye are so worried about being saddled with me as a wife, let us find the witnesses.”
At last, years of being unbridled came in handy. Cora was well accustomed to being stared at in disapproval. She felt Faolan glaring at her back, but she maintained her composure.
He didn’t want her? Fine. She’d not beg.
The price of her pride might be high, but there would be no one to see her tears in the dark of the night.
For certain, she’d not let Faolan see that she cared.
*
The sheet was hanging in the great hall.
Cora stopped and glared at it. A dark stain marred its surface.
“Ye should be glad,” a matron said as she took in Cora’s disgruntled expression.
“And grateful,” another woman declared from where she was setting the table for the midday meal.
Cora looked at the first woman. “I am not a liar. Come and testify to the priest that the sheet was clean this morning. So, this marriage might be annulled.”
The woman’s eyes widened as Cora’s words sunk in.
“Ye are daft to suggest I’d cross me mistress,” the woman declared before she turned and hurried away.
“Save yer breath,” the second woman said when Cora looked her way. “I am no senseless. Snow is blowing on the wind. I need me place. Ye do as well.”
Cora refused to be intimidated. She made her way to the kitchens where there were over three dozen McKay women working to make supper. Men turned meat in the huge hearths as Orla stood keeping watch over every member of her staff. She had a long spoon in her hand that she was using to point at the members of her staff.
“Ye do nae belong in here, Mistress Mackenzie,” Orla informed her sternly.
Cora put one foot behind her and bent at the knee to perform a reverence. The respectful gesture earned her a grunt from the McKay Head-of-House.
“Married to the laird’s brother does not grant ye authority here,” Orla continued. “Ye’ll have yer own tower to see to running.”
There were several snickers in response. Orla snapped her head toward two of the women who had made the most noise.