Chapter 21 - Market Cross
Aidan paced the corridor, awaiting Catherine’s arrival. He’d let her know he planned to officially introduce her to his tenants. He had tried to postpone it. He knew what they thought. He knew the whispers.?
The old O’Donell would have never bent the knee to a British noble.
He’d turn in his grave if he knew his son had married one of them.
Ironically, it was the old O’Donell who had meant to wed Catherine.
Aidan had just stepped up for him — not that he minded.
Or maybe he did, but not because of the marriage.
Catherine had stopped ignoring him for a change. Now she kept glaring at him when she thought he didn’t watch. Aidan wasn’t entirely sure whether he should count it as progress. His lips twitched. At least nobody could accuse his wife of softening. That also was on him.
He had been aware before he had even courted her that it would take time to repair his people’s trust. He had been willing to bear being misjudged. He exhaled slowly.
Because he hadn’t entered a mere political match, but had to care for his wife instead, it burdened him that she’d face mild disdain at best and open hostility as a baseline.
He hoped she chose something practical to wear.
At the same time he had made it sound like an important occasion — her upbringing practically dictated she wear something elaborate.
Then again, as her husband, of course he could have demanded to approve of her appearance beforehand — which might have turned the glares into open warfare.
When she finally appeared, he felt relief.
Practical enough.
They crossed the yard together. Their horses were already waiting, and Catherine didn’t hesitate. By the time Aidan reached his own mount, she was already in the saddle. He turned his horse toward the gate without a word.
She followed.
The ride to the village seemed shorter than usual. Or maybe he had never resented the ride to end before. Aidan dismounted Oíche, turning to assist his wife. Not because she needed it — but because it was proper.
Their hands touched when she accepted the offer.
It made him swallow.
They had not touched since their wedding.
Even now, he didn’t allow himself to linger.
Her face was flushed from the ride, the hint of a smile around her mouth.
She patted the neck of her horse affectionately before facing him. Her hand lifted, and she gracefully rested her fingers upon his elbow, letting him lead the way.
The village had gathered at the market cross.
One glance told Aidan nobody had dressed for the occasion. He stepped up and called out to his tenants.
“Fáilte a chairde.”
The rector answered for them with an impeccably polite bow.
“Good day, m’Lord, m’Lady.”
Aidan’s chest tightened.
M’Lord.
He didn’t flinch. Couldn’t afford to.
He didn’t look at Catherine either.
His eyes swept the small crowd gathered. He knew them. Every single one of them. And here they stood, avoiding his gaze. He bit back the curse pressing against his tongue. He didn’t like the sound of his voice when it rang out in response.
“It’s my pleasure to introduce Lady O’Donell — my respected wife.”
His eyes narrowed at the rector, then moved over to Seamus. He’d taught him fishing when Aidan had barely been able to walk. He searched for his eyes, and old Seamus briefly looked back at him.
Aidan singled out Janet and her husband next.
“I wish to express my gratitude for your welcoming of your new Mistress.”
He paused.
Stubborn faces.
Ian the shepherd spat, not even trying to pretend it to be anything but contempt.
Aidan didn’t bother to hide his own anger from his face.They wanted to play this way?
Fine.
His diction sharpened. London pronunciation slipping into his voice like an insult.
“Regarding the circumstance, m’Lady didn’t deem celebrations of our wedding befitting, it is by her grace and as a mark of our union that I announce: there will be no duty work for the next month. Every man stays on his own ridge. Furthermore, the manor’s grain stores are open.
Each household will receive a measure of seed for the spring — a gift from your new Mistress.”
Aidan’s lips stretched to a thin smile at the murmurs spreading at his announcement. He’d have supplied the grain for the upcoming season anyway. Let them choke on thinking they now had to be grateful to the Sasunnach.
He flowed into an elegant bow.
“M’Lady and I will not keep you from your work any longer. We are awaiting your visits coming Lúnasa.”
He turned on his heel, only now realising that Catherine’s hand had stayed on his elbow the entire time.
Once they reached the horses, she withdrew.
His eyes flickered across her face, but whatever expression she might have worn was already replaced by the impeccable mask of composure she wore like armour.
Aidan mounted Oíche, spurring her into a fast sprint back towards O’Donell House.
He didn’t need to look back to know she was keeping up.