Amanda Scott (29 page)

“Elsewhere, perhaps, but not here,” Fin said, giving him a straight look. “Last I heard, Jamie was still Lord of the Isles.”

Sleat grimaced but did not press the point. Shifting his attention to Molly, he said abruptly, “Ha’ ye lost your mind, lass?”

“I do not believe so,” she said, surprising Fin with her apparent calm.

Sleat snapped, “For all that Jamie had the bad manners to do me a mischief, ye need not compound it by marrying this fellow.
Ye can do better! Say only that ye want no part of this, and I’ll look after ye myself. I’ll take ye to your cousin Huntly,
for even Kintail, with all his wild ways, won’t dare go against him.” Shooting a glance at Fin, he added, “I have heard no
man call ye a fool, Kintail, for aught else I might have heard.”

Refusing the bait, Fin said, “We are about to take supper, Mackinnon. Perhaps you and your lady, and these others, would like
to refresh yourselves.”

“Aye, we would,” Mackinnon agreed, his relief plain. “And later we’ll ha’ a game o’ chess, lad. Ye’ll no beat me a second
time, I promise ye.”

“One moment,” Sleat said gruffly. “I’ll hear from the lass’s own lips that this marriage meets wi’ her favor. We still ha’
laws in Scotland, even in the Highlands, and I’ll no see her forced into any union against her will. What say ye, lass?”

Fin forced himself to keep silent, resisting the impulse to beat Sleat to his knees and order him dragged out and hanged for
the deaths of Ranald Mackenzie and Gilchrist MacRae. Highlanders did have certain rules that they lived by, and one was that
a man did not order the death of another who sought hospitality in his house. Still, the temptation was heady, especially
when every eye in the hall shifted to Molly, and everyone waited to hear her answer.

As Molly returned Donald the Grim’s challenging look, her dilemma suddenly resolved itself, making her choice clear.

She could remain with Kintail, who promised to protect her and whose word seemed trustworthy, or she could declare that she
had no wish for the marriage and trust Donald to keep his word to her. Just hearing a declaration of the rule of law from
the man who was exerting himself to raise the west Highlands against his king made her wonder why everyone in the hall had
not laughed him to scorn. Deciding which man to trust was easy.

“Well, lass?” Donald said. He had thrust back his cloak to hook his thumbs over his belt, and he looked supremely confident
of her reply.

“I am content, sir,” she replied quietly but nonetheless firmly.

“Ye
want
to marry this fellow?”

“I will marry him,” she said, raising her chin. Just so that no one could mistake her decision for anything else, she added
firmly, “I shall then be done with being a hostage that my guardians may pledge whenever they want to achieve political gain.
I’ll have a husband instead, and a proper home.”

Continued silence greeted her words, but it was now silence fraught with tension, and it lingered, as did the angry glint
in Donald’s eyes. Then he jerked a nod and said curtly to Kintail, “Your people will look after mine, I expect.”

“They will,” Kintail replied with a gesture commanding Tam to see to it.

Molly turned to Lady Mackinnon. “May I take you to your room, madam?”

Lady Mackinnon accepted the offer with visible relief.

As they left the hall, Molly allowed her ladyship’s familiar chatter to divert her mind from what Donald might be planning.

Having sent Sleat and his body servant off with Tam, who would show them to a bedchamber, Fin turned back to Mackinnon, saying,
“Now then, sir, what the devil is that scoundrel
really
doing here?”

Mackinnon shook his head ruefully. “Truly, lad, there were naught else t’ be done wi’ him. He came t’ me, demanding I throw
me lot in wi’ his. I want naught t’ do with any of it, o’ course, but I dinna want Donald banging on me door wi’ a cannonball
if he ever figures out how t’ mount cannon on his galleys.”

“We must all be grateful that he has none yet.”

“Aye, well, but wi’ Donald, one can always expect the worst. At all events, Sir Patrick arrived in the midst of our conversation,
and at first, I were glad o’ the interruption and invited him t’ take a flagon of
brogac
with us, believing he knew Donald. He didna, though, and explained his mission t’ me straightaway.”

Ruefully, Patrick said, “I’d never seen Sleat before. I thought he must be a friend of yours, sir.”

“Whilst I,” Mackinnon said, “believed ye must ken him all
too
well.”

“Neither of us was present when he organized the attack against my father’s party,” Fin explained. “We were rousing nearby
villagers, so they could prepare to take in survivors of the supposed shipwreck.”

“Aye, well, when Donald heard about your wedding, he invited himself t’ join us,” Mackinnon explained. “He had only the small
tail of men wi’ him—doubtless t’ lend an appearance o’ peaceful intent—and Sir Patrick had the wit t’ say we should depart
at once.”

“Is this possibly some sort of ruse on Sleat’s part?” Fin asked. “Might his army even now be approaching, hoping to catch
us all in one place?”

“Sir Patrick thought o’ that, as well,” Mackinnon said. “I took Donald at his word—foolishly, ye’ll say—but Patrick didna
do any such thing.”

“I gave orders for our people to keep watch over the Kyle and to send word to us here at so much as a hint of anything unusual,”
Patrick said.

“Good,” Fin said, adding to Mackinnon, “You will be wanting to refresh yourself before we sup, sir. One of my lads will show
you to your chamber.” When the older man had departed, he said to Patrick, “What think you of this? Sleat must have something
in mind other than merely attending my wedding.”

Patrick shrugged, but Fin detected a gleam of humor in his eyes as he said, “I hardly think he will mount an attack whilst
he rests within our walls himself. Even so, I’ve arranged for enough of our men to sleep here tonight to keep his lads out
of mischief, and I’ve sent word to those ashore to keep watch there. I told our lot to toss Sleat and his men in the dungeon
if anyone reports an unusual number of boats entering the loch, or any other such devilry.”

“Good man,” Fin said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Patrick grinned. “They came in Mackinnon’s boats, don’t forget. They should return the same way, but we’ll keep a sharp eye
out after the wedding.”

Deciding that things were well in hand and that Eilean Donan and her people would be safer with Sleat under their eye than
elsewhere, making mischief, Fin relaxed, saying lightly, “I’ll leave that duty to you, old friend, at least until my wedding
night is over.”

Patrick laughed. “Fair enough,” he said. “If I am any judge of such matters, and I am, you will need to keep your wits about
you if you are not to lose your manhood before you’ve made good use of it. However, you may see to your bride in relative
peace, because I’ll keep all safe elsewhere.”

Fin nodded, smiling as erotic images of the wedding night that lay ahead of him flooded his imagination. It was just as well
that he could trust Patrick, for once he was in bed with Molly, he doubted that there would be room in his mind for thoughts
of anything, or anyone, else.

W
ith rare exceptions, thoughts of the wedding night that lay ahead of her had plagued Molly and teased her from the moment
she had agreed to marry Kintail, and they did so right up to the morning of her wedding. When she tried to imagine what would
happen, she remembered his kisses and caresses, even thoughts of which stirred the fiery feelings they had stirred at the
time, but beyond that, her imagination failed her. On Skye, she had heard newly wedded young women giggling to their friends
and being teased by them, but she could recall nothing specific that anyone had said in her presence to describe what actually
happened.

From the time she awakened to Doreen’s rap on the morning of the wedding, tense anticipation filled her mind. Since she had
come to terms with what she was doing and why she was doing it, she wondered why she seemed unable to attend efficiently to
the simple routines of dressing and breaking her fast. She dropped things and seemed unable to speak the sensible sentences
that formed in her brain. Instead words got mixed or the sense turned to nonsense when thoughts of Kintail pushed in to distract
her. She would have liked to confide her confusion to Doreen, but she doubted that the maidservant, being still unwed herself,
would understand her feelings any more than she did.

Mauri entered while Doreen was brushing Molly’s hair after her bath. As she went to the wardrobe to take out the dress they
had selected, she said without preamble, “Molly, d’ye ken aught o’ the bedding ceremony?”

Flushing deeply, and feeling as if her thoughts had been invaded, Molly shook her head. “I know that married people frequently
share a bed, that they kiss and … and so forth, but no one ever told me that any ceremony is involved.”

“It be just as I thought, then,” Mauri said, gesturing for her to stand so she could slip the gold-embroidered, pale blue
skirt over her head. “ ’Tis only the first night, and maidens dinna take part, so I thought ye might no ha’ heard of it,”
she went on as she dealt with the lacing. “I’d heard naught o’ such, myself, afore I wed, so it came as a shock to me to learn
that the men who attended my wedding would undress me for my wedding night.”

Molly stared as that same shock swept over her. “The men!”

“Aye,” Mauri said, nodding to Doreen to hand her the matching embroidered bodice. “Everyone accompanies the wedding couple
to their bedchamber, and wi’ much merriment the men undress the bride and the women undress the groom, and then they deposit
them naked on the marriage bed.”

“Everyone?”

“Aye. They… they dinna depart, neither, till they be satisfied that the marriage ha’ been consummated in good order.”

“That sounds horrid,” Molly exclaimed, albeit with only a vague notion of what Mauri meant by the last. “I…I won’t do it!”

“Ye’ll ha’ no choice,” Mauri said, pulling the bodice laces tight. “Everyone does it, although most brides dinna like it.
I canna speak for the grooms. Malcolm said he wished it needna be, but he seemed to enjoy it all the same.” She sighed, adding,
“I should tell ye, too, that Malcolm and Ian Dubh ha’ returned. They’d ha’ been gey disappointed to miss your wedding. But
come now, it be almost time!”

Molly nodded, but as she let Mauri twitch the skirt and long, full-bottomed sleeves into place, she was not thinking about
Malcolm or Ian Dubh. She had to speak to Kintail, for surely he could stop the dreadful bedding ceremony if he chose. Had
he not proclaimed himself lord of all? She understood that she had a duty—or would have a duty as his wife—to share his bed
if he demanded it, but this was different. She had to be certain that he understood she wanted no part of it.

“I found these pretty blue and silver ribbons to weave round your kirtle and into your garland,” Mauri said. “They look new.
Ye must never ha’ worn them.”

They did look new, but Molly had never seen them before, so either Lady Mackinnon had slipped them in among the things she
had brought to Eilean Donan, or they were a gift from Maggie Malloch. Since she did not recall seeing them when she and Doreen
unpacked, she decided they had come from Maggie, but she did not dwell on the thought. She was still trying to think how she
might speak to Kintail.

“There,” Mauri said when she had finished arranging the ribbons. “Now, turn about and let us ha’ a look at ye.”

Molly obeyed, realizing that she had no time now to seek out Kintail. The wedding was to take place in but a few minutes,
at noon, a time chosen so that all who expected to attend would have time to get there. Perhaps, though, she mused, some delay
might result from the fact that everyone had to be ferried to Eilean Donan from the mainland if from nothing else.

However, when she suggested as much while Mauri adjusted the bridal garland on her head, Mauri assured her that Patrick, Malcolm,
and Ian Dubh had everything in hand. And if the crowd that awaited her entrance in the great hall minutes later was anything
to go by, their arrangements had gone all too smoothly.