Chapter 16
Imposter! He was an imposter; this had to be the only logical explanation.
He was honored to be named a knight, but first and foremost was his Cluaran.
Any chief or knight or warrior or mercenary or sovereign was at her fingers’ very tips, yet she chose him.
Aonghus bowed his head as he waited to be handfasted within the chapel across the bailey by the Lord Chancellor himself, who looked at him when he raised his brow.
The bishop straightened his robe but puckered his mouth.
“I made certain to hear that Sir James has a task far from here.” Sir Brayden took his attention, standing next to him.
“Privileged prick kicked a watchtower guard’s feet out from under, crashing him onto the ground.
The lad was not even distracted on gate watch.
I am certain Sir James was just takin’ out the frustration from your soon-to-be lady’s earlier decision. ”
“Is it true, wee brother, that your soon-to-be lady refused to speak with King Alexander without you present?” Callum questioned.
“Aye.”
Callum regarded him with a heavy emotion in his gaze. What was it? Anger. No. Astonishment. Aye, astonishment.
“She is a loyal one; ’tis the rarest of finds,” Callum added, but he seemed to be speaking of more than just Keirah. Had a lass hurt him too? “You watch over her well, wee brother.”
“Always.”
Sir Brayden grinned. “How does one feel to be chosen by the lady our lord king shines highest favor upon?”
“Grant me a slap?” Aonghus replied with an ask.
“Slap?” His friend looked shocked.
SLAP! All right, it wasn’t all a dream.
Aonghus rubbed his cheek, which held the freshly trimmed beard. “Much obliged, Callum,” he said, grateful.
“If you require yet another” – Callum’s grin grew – “simply voice a request.”
Aonghus straightened his clean embroidered tunic nervously by the low-burning candlelight near the altar.
No blood from the slap, good. He heard Alec give an ahem and add, “You look grand, brother.” Aonghus met the wee brother’s expression turned solemn.
“Took you a few turns to find the right lass for you, tall cocksman. Truly one of a kind; when you left the hall, the banter regarding her talent to save our lord king, they were declaring it to be…”
Sir Brayden finished. “Perfection.”
Alec’s eyes almost held a glimmer. Aye, wee brother – it had been a long path since all those years ago when he stepped away so Alec could have the lass his wee brother loved, Deidre.
Aonghus looked at Callum; they had never told Chief MacCade, at Aonghus’s request when fear took over after his older brother’s reaction at the announcement he was stepping down from the betrothal.
No, he wasn’t going to risk Alec being cast out from the clan as well from the strong bitterness which possessed Callum.
They didn’t know where it stemmed from in Callum, but it was always there.
“Much obliged, wee brother.” Aonghus grinned as Alec smacked his shoulder goodheartedly.
They were waiting for his ‘bride’; after making her choice, a moment he would remember always, she had been whisked away to their soon-to-be chamber for a bath and new gown readying for the occasion.
He had seen to a brisk bath in unheated water and freshened his garments in his quarters with the other guards, a place he would not be returning to later but to a chamber with his new wife within the keep.
His pulse beat quicker; true it was only a ruse, but he would be near her. He gave an inward grin.
Perhaps in time it would grow to become unbearable, which was the burning worry he saw in Keirah’s eyes at her hesitation to choose him, but it would have crushed him, ruse or not, to have her leave the chamber with Sir James or Sir Sean by her side.
“The rings?” Sir Brayden inquired.
“Aye.” Alec opened his palm to show the gold bands gifted by Alexander, the king having remained with the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Constable to discuss strategies after the information given by Keirah.
As he handed the rings to Aonghus, Sir Brayden said once more under his breath while looking toward the archway: “Perfection.”
Callum cleared his throat, Alec’s eyes bulged, and the Lord Chancelor announced to the lady who joined them at the granite chapel’s threshold: “Good eve.” He turned to the newly dubbed knight. “Shall we begin, Sir Aonghus?”
She is divine. Aonghus could only nod. There, standing at the chapel’s entrance, was Keirah, an emerald gown gracing her delicate form, a soft pale wimple floating about her face like a butterfly’s wings with her waist-length tresses plaited beneath elegantly – but it was the joyful glow she wore which stole his breath.
Meet her halfway! As Keirah started down the aisle, his steps charged fast as thunder to take her hands in his mid-center of the chapel.
She whispered about his finest tunic, “You look very dashing, my Scottish knight.” Her tone then turned toward concern.
“MacCade, are you certain? We have not spoken upon the matter, but the look you unleashed in the solar, it suggested perhaps you sought to be the one chosen. I wished for nothing more; however, I do not seek to have you feel trapped in a manner…”
“Keirah,” he interrupted gently, “You are not mistaken; I sought to be chosen, to claim your hand.” Her shoulders lowered, appearing to relax at his assurance.
He should bestow a sophisticated or brilliant or poetic turn of phrase at her beauty.
“I would declare how bonnie you are, but any words or sentiment pale against you, my Cluaran.” That fell way short at the vision before him.
Somehow, she looked flattered, with a bloom taking her cheeks.
“Dashing and complimentary – a knight to your core,” she whispered, then winked at him. The room had spun at her gesture, but he hadn’t moved a step.
“Pardon,” the Lord Chancellor bellowed down from the far altar. “The ceremony shall forthwith be here.”
He offered his arm gallantly. “Shall we, my Cluaran?”
She placed her hand on his. “Aye.” Her eyes never leaving his, they walked toward the altar.
***
Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard the Lord Chancellor conducting the ceremony.
Never had she thought to be married; then to have it be to one she held such esteem for…
. esteem? No, her feelings had bolted way beyond this threshold.
Love? She looked up at her knight who admired her; not yet, but it seemed possible for the first time.
It was an emotion she never considered could take a hold in her after all the harsh treatment by the Northmen.
True, this union was for a year or possibly less, but in this time, she would offer all she could to Aonghus even if her flesh was not to be deemed allowed. Then he would be on his way, to – a rip of sorrow tore her soul – to another lass or lady or lover who could give him what she could not.
Best enjoy this moment; another will never come to pass. It was its own cruel ‘cost of measure’ – never getting to be a true wife or grow with a child was her dire fate. The sorrow deepened; aye, this was her calling, to remain forever half a lass.
“My lady?” Her attention snapped toward Aonghus, who took her hand. That’s right – she was to be a ‘lady’ now her husband was a knight as the title in protocol became adhered. Lady? Not likely with her unique set of curses always on her tongue’s tip.
She looked down at their palms as the chancellor wove a ribbon about their fingers in a methodical manner.
If only she could force from her mind the thought of another lady whom Aonghus would truly call his own in a real ceremony with a proper consummation after the vows.
Her fingers tightened in his; he smiled at her – aye, she…
she was falling in love with him. It would crush her to release him once the plan was done.
Aonghus began his vows, placing the ring onto her finger. “My Lady Keirah, I swear unto my last breath and to the final beat in my heart and till the light from my spirit is taken that I shall guard and protect you.” Emotion shined in his eyes at her. Her breath caught.
“My Sir Aonghus” – she somehow found her voice – “I swear unto my last breath and to the final beat in my heart and till the light from my spirit is taken that I shall be true to you, always.” She placed the ring onto his finger: rough hands, yet they were the most tender she had ever known in their care for her.
“Sir Aonghus, you may kiss the Lady Keirah,” the chancellor concluded.
Their hands remained bound between them as Aonghus leaned down slowly. Would he give a chaste tap of his mouth to seal the traditional moment? Or a full-blown rapturous gesture? At the touch from his lips, she grew stiffer than the chapel’s oak pews surrounding them. Stop overthinking this!
Aonghus gave a tiny gesture in way from his thumb caressing over hers…
Hhmmmm, he was tender but fiery all at the same moment.
Oh, aye. His lips offered a minted taste of some sort mixed with a hint of spice which she guessed only belonged to him.
A wisp of his breath upon her lips, she softened more as he took his free arm to circle her waist in gathering her close.
Gentle at first, then as soon as his tongue touched hers it turned ravenous in a heartbeat. Oh. My. Rapture.
Stretching up onto her toes, she draped her free hand onto his neck, weaving her fingers into his hair.
Such a soft male mane – Hmmmm. Never had she been kissed; would it be this way with any other?
No. This is what made it special: it was MacCade.
She leaned fully into him as he gave a hint of a rumble from his torso like a beast’s growl to tighten his hold onto her.
Never had anything so consumed her with heat, stretching all the way down to her maidenhead’s very…
“Sir Aonghus!” A sharp summons belonging to the clergyman hailed from somewhere beyond the private place built just for them.
Her knight’s lips left hers; the effect was shocking when the chapel’s brisk air hit the fire built from his touch. Turning, she discovered three sets of wide eyes belonging to Callum, Alec, and Sir Brayden, with a pair in slits from the Lord Chancellor upon them.
“Sir Aonghus,” the Lord Chancellor ordered not asked, “take leave of your bride for but a moment as I must speak with you directly.” This couldn’t be good.
Her hands trembled at what they had shared.
She tried and failed to unravel the ribbon.
Aonghus untethered them. Just as he finished, his thumb stroked in a suggestive way beneath her palm hidden from view.
She had just had a taste of paradise, and watching him depart toward a nearby pew but out of earshot, it crashed over her.
What torture had she just condemned the man she held above all others to by choosing him for these vows?