Chapter 29
They were married in the late afternoon on that very day, bound by a kirkman whom Jamie had summoned the day before. In the presence of her clan and his, before God, Sheena became wife to The MacKinnion.
The clans, also, were bound by the marriage. The Fergussons were delighted. It was a day for great celebration—a marriage and the end of a bitter feud. For most, it was a day to be happy.
There were, however, some who were not pleased.
Those who had recently lost loved ones to the feud, for example, of whom Black Gawain was one.
He refused to attend the wedding or the festivities that followed.
His current mistress was also quite bitter.
Harboring a hope that she might get Jamie back after he had finished with the red-haired Lowlander, she had stayed where she was.
That was the only reason for the relationship with Black Gawain, staying at Castle Kinnion. The marriage dashed hope for Jessie.
But Sheena was by far the most miserable.
Her wedding day felt like a day of execution.
Now that she had been given to the savage MacKinnion, her life became his to do with as he chose.
And once his lust for her cooled? Then he would remember that she was a Fergusson, always his enemy.
He would remember, and he would never let her forget.
She ought to have worn black, instead of the lovely gown Lydia had worked on so hard and so swiftly.
It was made of lime green silk, and the bodice had been cut with a V of white lace, the wide sleeves trimmed with white fur.
She knew very well that such a special gown was meant for a special occasion. So Lydia had known all along!
Watching her father, so pleased with himself, and her brother enjoying himself, only added to her misery. Couldn’t they understand what they had done to her? Why did nobody care about her?
And her husband? The last time she had dared glance his way, he had not looked like a newly wedded man. Was he already regretting what he had done and the finality of it?
He got up, startling her, and walked away from the tables where the splendid feast was laid out.
She was happy to see him go and considered sampling a bit of food.
There was roasted venison, Highland grouse stuffed with wild cranberries in butter, smoked fish, mutton pie, stewed beef, kid, pigeons, and capons.
And the sweets! Cream crowdies, ginger cakes, sugary nutmeg cakes.
She would get fat, that’s what she would do.
He wouldn’t want her if she was grotesquely fat.
But Jamie didn’t go far enough away, and Sheena never filled her plate. He went to her father and had a few words with him, laughing. It stung, how glad her father was to have her wedded to The MacKinnion.
Jamie returned. He took her hand and forced her to rise. She looked at him questioningly, but his expression revealed nothing and he said nothing. He tugged at her, expecting her to follow. She held back.
“You’ll be telling me where we’re going, Sir Jamie.” Her tone was obstinate.
Jamie turned around to face her, giving her hand a sharp tug, making his point. “So you’ll be giving me trouble already?”
“If you’ll just give me a reason why you’re taking me away…?”
“I dinna need a reason, wife. You are my wife?” He put the question coldly. “You do agree you are my wife, Sheena? Say it.”
She looked away from the hard hazel eyes. “I agree,” she murmured.
“I didna hear you.”
“I agree!”
“Then you’ll also agree I need no reason to have you follow me?” he pressed his point.
Her head snapped up, and her eyes, deeply blue, sparked with anger. “So it’s to be that way, is it? Now you’ve got what you want, you’ve no thought for my feelings? But then, you never did.”
Before her eyes, Jamie changed. The stiffness left him, and his expression softened. He even grinned, shamefaced.
“I’m sorry, Sheena. There’s no excuse for my acting this way. ’Tis just…och, never mind. ’Tis for your sake we’re leaving. You’re no’ enjoying yourself.”
“Was I supposed to?”
“Now, lass,” he said reprovingly. “Let us have a wee bit of peace, eh? For your father’s sake at least? Would you have him regretting that he gave you to me?”
“As if he would,” she said bitterly. “And what did you tell him just now?”
“Only no’ to get himself alarmed if we dinna return for a while.”
“A while?” The words rang ominously.
They stared at each other. The look in Jamie’s eyes was quite clear. Sheena shook her head slowly, feeling so peculiar. Somehow she found the words to speak and even managed a calm voice.
“We have guests. And I’ve no’ eaten yet, nor have you.”
Jamie held up a hand to silence her. “You’ve naught to fear, and I’ll show you that. Then you can return and be at ease, and you can smile for a change. Sweet Mary, Sheena! ’Tis your wedding day, a day to remember.”
“I’m no’ likely to forget!” she snapped. “And as to why I canna smile, ’tis simply that I’ve naught to smile about, being married to you.”
Jamie was cut deeply, but he hid it well.
“We’ll leave now, Sheena,” he said in a level tone.
“But…but I’ve no’ even met your sister yet,” Sheena protested. “What will she think of me, leaving without saying hello?”
“You have met her, Sheena. You met her and spoke no’ two words to her, though she left a sickbed to be here. What she thinks is that I’ve made the same mistake twice, for you’ve been sitting there at the table acting exactly as my first wife did on her wedding day. I’ll have no more of it.”
Sheena was surprised. Could memories of his first wife pain him still? She had never considered that. She thought about it as they walked from the hall, up the stairs, to the door, where Jamie stopped.
“Our chamber,” Jamie said softly as he held the door open, letting go of her at last.
Sheena walked inside slowly. It was a large room, with a large French bed, linen sheets pulled down, large pillows fluffed.
She quickly tore her eyes away from the bed.
There was a standing chest for clothes, a table with stacked papers all weighted down.
Across from the table was a tier of lit candles.
A comfortable chair was positioned before the fire.
Most intriguing was a cabinet containing exquisite glass ornaments, large and small: birds, animals, a glass boat, a bell, and many other things. Sheena had never seen the like.
“They were my mother’s,” Jamie said. “Handed down to her by her Norman ancestors.”
Embarrassed by her own staring, she turned away from the beautiful collection and moved to the fire. Keeping her back to Jamie, she held out her trembling hands to the flames.
“Will you have some wine, Sheena?”
She jumped, then glanced at him sideways. He was waiting for her answer. She nodded hesitantly and watched him pour a rich red wine into a large goblet. He brought it to her, and she took the heavy container in both hands and drank it down without once pausing to breathe.
Jamie’s eyes were on her, slightly amused.
Amusement at her expense? The wine was warming her, spreading a delicious languor.
Weakness, when she had to face her enemy?
She gripped the goblet, debating whether to ask for more.
Would more fortify her or make her succumb? She had to get a grip on herself.
Behind her, Jamie was in agony. Never in his whole life had he been more unsure of himself. Staring at Sheena’s stiff, unyielding back, he waited. It had to be right. It had to be perfect. From the time he’d first seen her, shrouded in mist, he had wanted her. And now she was his.
The most beautiful, most desirable of women, and he was loathe to touch her, loathe to frighten her.
“I’ll have more wine, Sir Jamie, if you please.”
As she handed him the empty goblet, their eyes met. What he saw in those deep blue eyes twisted his heart.
“Why is it you still fear me, lass? Have I no’ proved you’ve no need? I swear I’ll be more gentle than any lover you’ve had ’afore me.”
“I’ve had no others.”
She didn’t say it indignantly, as she had before, just simply and quietly. Jamie caught his breath. His heart filled with sudden joy.
“If you can say that now, when you know I’ll be finding out ’afore we leave this room, then it must be so. Och, Sheena, you canna imagine how happy I am to be knowing it. You canna imagine what hell I suffered when I thought Jameson—”
“And why should it make a difference to you, James MacKinnion?” Sheena snapped.
“Why?” He was shocked.
“Aye, why? You believe in handfasting and the taking of innocent lasses. How many maidens have you had and set aside without a thought to what their eventual husbands would be thinking?”
“Enough, Sheena. I wed you thinking you had been with another, so you see it made no real difference to me, but I canna deny I’m glad there’s been no other. If that makes me selfish, so I am. Here, if it will help,” he said gently, and filled her goblet.
She looked at it and shook her head despondently. “Nay. Nothing will help except if you take pity on me and let me go.”
“And have you live with fear even longer? I wouldna be so cruel.”
She gasped and looked up, ready to face him, but he had set the wine aside, and his hands touched her shoulders, resting there with a gentle weight.
She could feel his chest against her back.
Her hair, the sides swept up to fall backward with the rest, was out of his way, and his thumbs rubbed against the curves of her neck.
“Let me put your fears to rest, Sheena, for all time,” he breathed.
His lips brushed the skin just below her ear, and a tingling spread down her neck and over her shoulders. Sheena succumbed. She tilted her neck to the side to give him more access, and his lips took complete advantage.
If he hurt her, then he hurt her. But if he didn’t? How wonderful to think she might be wrong about him! How extraordinary to think she could feel something other than hate and fear.