Dangerous Pride (20 page)

With Iain’s departure, Lachlan’s mother, Lady Violet, had assumed responsibility for chaperoning the young woman.  After a few difficult days, the dowager seemed to finally accept the reality that Lachlan would not be changing his mind.  Once she had made her peace with her new daughter, the dowager proved to be a capable companion, responding to Catriona’s many questions with patience, if not enthusiasm.

The dowager Lady Forbes was in many ways a different person than Catriona remembered from her youth.  The elderly woman’s health had failed in recent years, and she was no longer the brash, selfish woman Catriona remembered.  She was grateful the dowager had quickly taken arrangements for the wedding in hand, seeing to the guest list and the menu with a keen eye.  When asked for her opinion, Catriona offered it, but generally, she left the details to the dowager.

The time it took to arrange the wedding had given Catriona a chance to reflect on her future.  Though she still questioned the wisdom of the marriage, she recognized she had little say in the matter.  Without the protection – and respectability – afforded by a husband, she knew she would face a difficult existence. Far better to be wed to a man she knew to be fair and kind than to have her father shackle her to the first man desperate enough to accept her and her tarnished reputation.

“Better the devil you ken than the devil you do no’,” she muttered as she swung her legs over the edge of her bed.  Catriona reached down to grab her slippers, for despite the season, the stone floor of her chamber was dreadfully cold.  Any extra funds had been used to help reinforce the defenses of the castle, not for luxuries like carpets in seldom-used bedchambers.

The fire that had burned in the hearth for much of the night had long since died to embers, and the room had an uncomfortable chill.  Drawing a dressing gown over her shift, Catriona padded over to the small window.  Alone with her thoughts, she peered down at the activity below, relishing the heat of the sun as it warmed her body.  From her room she had an unimpeded view of the keep.  Despite the early hour, the yard was a bustle of activity as the final wedding arrangements were managed.

Lachlan’s mother had warned her that few guests outside of the immediate family and the clan who resided at Tolquhon would attend the wedding.  Not only had the event been hastily planned, but it was too early in the season for there to be much time to spare for such festivities.  Fields had to be painstakingly plowed and planted, and at the same time sheep and cattle were being turned out into the hills to fend for themselves on the lush greenery.  Most Scots could ill-afford to leave their lands when the crops and livestock required so much attention.  Such details as the number of guests at the wedding were of little concern to Catriona, anyway.  Now that she had made peace with the idea of her marriage to Lachlan, she was looking forward to putting the fuss and bother of the ceremony behind her, and getting on with her life.

It hadn’t taken her long to realize the marriage would afford her many advantages, not the least of which was the fact  there would be no need to manage the intimacies expected by most bridegrooms.  In truth, she doubted Lachlan cared for anything beyond the fact the marriage would guarantee peace between the clans.  Once the vows had been spoken, she would be free to live her life on her terms, but with the support and acceptance that came with being part of the Forbes clan.

There was a time in her life when she would have expected so much more from a marriage, but life experience had been a harsh teacher.  Her childish notions of romantic love had given way to a more realistic, practical view of the world.  Lachlan would provide her with his name, his protection, and a chance to build a life here at Tolquhon.  That would be enough.

Once the marriage ceremony was comfortably behind them, Catriona intended to approach her husband about establishing a school at Tolquhon for the children of the clan.  She knew that for her own happiness and peace of mind, she would need to have a focus for her energies.  She had little doubt he would approve the plan, for it would benefit his people, and they were only thing that was really important to him.

Catriona was still peering out her window when she heard scratching at the door.  Sorcha, the maidservant Lachlan had arranged for her, quietly entered the room, greeting her new mistress with a warm smile.  “I canna say I am surprised tae see ye out of yer bed so early, my lady,” she observed kindly as she paused to set a stack of clean linens on the hearth.  “Faith, I do no’ think I would sleep a wink on the eve of me own weddin’.”

Catriona smiled at the young girl, who couldn’t have been more than fourteen years.  In time Sorcha would learn the realities of the world, but she wouldn’t dash the girl’s romantic dreams just yet.  “Then you’ll be shocked to hear I slept verra well,” she replied good naturedly, “and truth be told, I am starving!  Have you any breakfast for me?”

Chuckling softly, Sorcha shook her blond curls.  With a tiny waist, full bosom and bright blue eyes, Sorcha was an unusually attractive lass.  It wouldn’t be long before one of the lads swept her off her feet.  “Yer breakfast is being brought up by one of the kitchen lasses, but first, I thought ye might like tae bathe.”

When Catriona nodded her agreement, Sorcha opened the door to admit a pair of lads who deposited a large oak tub in front of the fireplace.  In short order, other lads brought buckets of steaming water to fill the tub, and Catriona was soon luxuriating in the heather-scented water.  Her hair was washed and rinsed, and her skin was scrubbed until it had a healthy pink tone.  The bath completed, Sorcha directed her to sit in front of the fire while she ate her breakfast so that her hair would dry faster.

The wedding had been set for midday in the small chapel adjoining the withdrawing room.  The dowager poked her head into the bedchamber several times throughout the morning, whether to ensure the bride would be ready in time, or to satisfy herself she hadn’t run away, Catriona wasn’t sure.  Iain did the same on two occasions, likely for the same reasons, but she could hardly fault them for their concern.  The thought of fleeing the castle before the nuptials had crossed her mind, after all, though she had ultimately discarded the notion.

After Sorcha had fiddled and fussed with her hair and dress for what seemed like an eternity, Catriona was finally deemed ready to meet her groom.  Surprisingly, she felt none of the nervousness or anticipation she assumed plagued most brides.

“See, my lady, ye make a most beautiful bride,” Sorcha said softly, directing Catriona’s attention to a small mirror at the far end of her chamber.  She walked closer, peering into the glass with a bemused, critical expression.

“It does no’ even look like me, Sorcha,” she replied finally, twisting her body so she could better glimpse the fit of her gown.  “You have done a miraculous job.”

Catriona barely recognized the woman who stared back at her from the mirror.  Her hair hung in loose, heavy curls down her back, with small sections pulled back from her face with delicate combs to soften the effect.  Tiny blossoms of white roses from the dowager’s garden had been artfully woven into the thick, lustrous strands.  Though the dressmakers had been given little time to fix her gown, the end result of their work was breathtaking.  The creamy satin fabric of the dress was cut low in the bodice, offering but a glimpse of her gentle curves.  The gown accentuated her narrow waist, flowing in soft folds until it reached the floor. Delicate gold embroidery decorated the bodice of the gown, and accented the skirt.  There was little doubt it was the finest gown Catriona had ever seen – much less worn – and she felt a surge of pride.  Despite the gossip and speculation surrounding the wedding, at least she would not embarrass herself or her family with her appearance.

Sorcha reached around her, carefully fastening a strand of exquisite pearls around her neck while Catriona watched in the mirror.  Her eyes widened in surprise as she adjusted the necklace at her throat.  “I have ne’er seen such a beautiful necklace, Sorcha,” she breathed as she savored the feel of the smooth, cool pearls on her throat.  “Where did they come from?”

“The laird will be happy tae hear yer pleased with them, my lady,” Sorcha replied, pausing to straighten the tiny rose blossoms in Catriona’s hair. “He sent them up for ye this morn, as his wedding present tae ye.”

Catriona felt her heart lurch at the generosity of the gift,  and the thoughtfulness of her groom.  She hadn’t expected such a token from him on their wedding day, and she was touched by his kindness.  She’d known little generosity in her life, and such a  gesture made her both pleased and uncomfortable in the same instant.  “Yer a lucky lass, my lady,” Sorcha offered.  “He is a braw man, and he’ll make ye a good husband.”

“From yer lips to God’s ears,” Catriona whispered, too distracted to notice her maid’s confused expression.

###

As Catriona stood at the threshold of the tiny chapel, she felt Iain squeeze her arm for support.  Together, they looked at the small cluster of guests who waited for them to make their way to the front of the chapel.  With an encouraging smile, Iain led her down the aisle, and she drew confidence from his quiet strength.  The faces that looked upon them were friendly, if a bit hesitant, and she was grateful that at least there was no open hostility.  As they reached the altar, Catriona smiled her thanks as he took her hand and placed it on Lachlan’s arm.  She had not dared steal a look at her groom until that moment.

What she saw was enough to take her breath away.  Lachlan exuded power, strength and grace as he stood before the vicar, his posture and presence commanding.  He’d dressed with extra care, and Catriona was yet again reminded how very handsome he was.  His kilt was fastened at his shoulder with the Forbes badge, signifying his leadership of this branch of the clan.  The stark white linen of his shirt was a handsome compliment to his dark complexion.  Tiny wrinkles framed his dark grey eyes as he smiled down at her. Lachlan wore his thick, blue-black hair loose, and it hung in waves below the collar of his shirt, barely brushing his shoulders.  He’d shaved before the ceremony, and his face was free of its usual dark stubble, making him look younger than his years. Shyly, she returned his grin, and then turned to listen as the vicar began the marriage ceremony.

Lachlan had requested a simple, brief service, in deference to the circumstances of the marriage.  Though the Ogilvy clan had stayed true to the old church, the Forbes clan had accepted the religious reformation that had been the subject of much debate and dissent throughout Scotland.  Regardless of who conducted the service, Lachlan had reasoned there was little point in pretending it was a joyful, romantic occasion, when all were keenly aware of the reasons behind the match.  The vicar made every effort to respect his laird’s wishes, conducting the ceremony with efficiency and an economy of words.  While Catriona knew she should pay careful attention, she found her mind wandering, her eyes frequently straying to the handsome man who stood at her side.  A hint of a smile lurked at the corner of his lips every time he caught her eye.  Catriona suspected he would be as relieved as she when the ceremony was finally over.

When the vicar pronounced them man and wife, Catriona silently braced herself for a gentle kiss from her new husband.  She offered her cheek, only to have him grasp her chin with a strong, determined hand. “I think no’, Lady Forbes,” he whispered as he deftly turned her chin so she faced him.  His other arm circled around her waist, pulling her closer until her breasts were pressed firmly against his broad chest.  Catriona started to protest, but her words were stifled by the pressure of his lips.

Lachlan’s kiss was dominating and possessive as he slanted his mouth across hers.  She stifled a shocked gasp as she felt his warm, moist tongue prodding between her lips, silently demanding access as he deepened the kiss.  She could taste brandy, she thought idly, as her knees swayed beneath her.  His arm tightened about her waist as he refused to end the kiss, instead gently caressing her tongue with his own.

Gradually, Catriona became aware of the crowd clapping enthusiastically in the church, cheering their laird and encouraging his lusty interest in his new bride.  With a look of deep satisfaction, Lachlan pulled back, steadying Catriona on her feet before he took her hand in his.  “We canna disappoint them, now can we?” he teased, a twinkle of amusement in his dark eyes.  “The least we can do is give them something to talk about.”

Catriona could only gaze back numbly as she nodded.  If this was any indication of what she could expect from marriage, she had sadly miscalculated what the future held in store for her.

###

Lachlan and Iain retired to the withdrawing room as soon as they could politely tear themselves from the wedding guests who had begun celebrating in the great hall.  Catriona had been sent upstairs to rest before the celebrations began in earnest, and the guests were being served ale, wine and other refreshments while the finishing touches were made on the banquet.

“I do no’ mean to steal you away from yer bride, you so newly wedded and all, but there are things we must discuss,” Iain said, his smile quickly fading as they closed the door.  The two men chose chairs near the hearth, and waited patiently while a serving lad lit a fire to take the chill off the room.  They sipped their brandies in silence until they were alone.

“I’d say it went quite well,” Lachlan offered when the lad had closed the door behind him.  “I was no’ sure the lass would go through with it, but she seems to have accepted her duty.”

Iain nodded his agreement.  “When I returned to Tolquhon, I must confess I was surprised to see she would go to the altar willingly,” Iain admitted.  “I had feared I would have to carry her down the aisle, over my shoulder.  This morning, before the wedding, I went to see her.  She told me all is well between you two – that you had agreed to the marriage for the sake of the clans, but that you did no’ expect anything beyond the actual alliance.  I ken she must be confused, but I did no’ want to say aught to upset her on her wedding day.”