Chapter 8
Padraig pinched the inside of his wrist to see if he was dreaming.
A vision of angelic beauty floated toward him as he waited on the steps of the keep’s kirk.
Cairren walked with grace and dignity through a crowd that looked more prepared to lob rotting vegetables at her than cheer her on.
The blatant rudeness galled Padraig. Even if they didn’t agree with his marriage, their duty to their laird was to accept and respect his decision.
Micheil accepted the king’s offer, and so it was as much by Laird Munro’s decree as King Robert’s that Padraig marry Cairren.
Padraig noticed Cairren looked straight ahead, as if she didn’t notice the surrounding people, but her eyes weren’t locked on him.
Instead, they appeared vacant, as though she saw nothing, as though she wasn’t present in the moment.
It was disconcerting as she drew closer.
When she stopped before the steps, she curtseyed to his bow, but she seemed far away.
When she placed her hand in his, Padraig squeezed it gently, and her trance disappeared.
Her eyes swept the crowd, and Padraig felt ill as once more fear haunted Cairren’s eyes.
He regretted drawing her back to reality.
“Look at me, lass,” Padraig whispered as he squeezed her hand again.
Cairren lifted her gaze to Padraig’s as she swallowed.
It was as though she registered his presence for the first time.
Her eyes swept over him, taking in the crisp leine and ceremonial plaid.
He’d polished his boots, and the dirks he sheathed at his waist. Even though the sheaths hid the blades, their handles shone.
For a reason he dared not entertain, he’d wanted to look his best for Cairren.
Her eyes met his, and her gaze softened as she noticed the strands that were darker from still being damp.
He’d shaven, and she seemed to appreciate the smooth skin.
If nothing else, Padraig realized, she approved of his appearance.
He more than approved of hers. She appeared exquisite in a gown that clung to her like someone poured her into it, drawing the eye to the most enticing parts of her body.
While he could only see her front, he suspected the gown would hang close enough to her bottom to hint at what lay beneath, just as the gown did over her breasts.
His mind flashed to the sight of Cairren in the soaked chemise and his first glimpse at the dark nipples unlike any he’d yet seen.
His arousal stirred yet again as he recalled the vision of loveliness that she was when naked.
He sported what seemed like a permanent cockstand since Cairren arrived at Foulis.
No woman had such a visceral effect on Padraig.
He forced his eyes away from devouring his bride, letting them sweep his clan members before landing on Myrna.
Her blond hair shone like spun gold as she stood beside Mary.
Defiance radiated from the glare she fixed on Cairren.
The hard set of her mouth and chin detracted from her beauty.
Once more, Padraig considered how he’d been convinced that no woman existed who was lovelier than Myrna, but now he held hands with one.
Cairren’s shift away from him brought his attention back to her, and he realized she’d caught him staring at Myrna.
It was obvious he’d amplified the hurt Cairren already suffered, and he wished he could pull Cairren aside and share his thoughts, make her understand how constantly conflicted he felt.
How he desired her and appreciated her appearance even as he pined for Myrna.
But he suspected Cairren wouldn’t find those words consoling, that it would only dig him deeper into the pile of manure his life had taken residence in.
As the priest wrapped the cord around their wrist, Padraig stroked the back of Cairren’s hand, trying to sooth some of the pain from her eyes.
Her hand jerked back, but she caught herself before it was noticeable to anyone beside Padraig and the priest who glowered at her.
Father Mitchell had christened Padraig and had supported Padraig’s pursuit of Myrna’s hand.
While Padraig understood the priest’s disappointment, even disdain, for the bride who stood before them, the open hostility seemed overmuch now that they were to handfast.
Father Mitchell cleared his throat before casting Cairren one more sneer. He turned his attention to the crowd.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this clan, to join together this mon and this woman in holy matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of mon’s innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained. ”
Cairren’s nails bit into Padraig’s hands as the priest intoned the first verse of the traditional Church marriage vows.
They were not the words of a handfast. Cairren turned horror-filled eyes toward the priest, who pretended to ignore her.
As he drew breath at the end of the verse, it tempted Padraig to shield Cairren from the man’s hateful glare.
It was as though he blamed Cairren for their marriage.
Padraig looked at his parents, and he knew immediately who had done this.
Micheil’s self-satisfied expression said it all.
He was forcing Padraig into this marriage to ensure they kept Cairren’s dowry.
“Papa,” Cairren whispered. The sense of betrayal in her voice nearly made Padraig come undone. When she spoke again, there was a plea to the single word, as if she begged her father to rescue her. “Papa?”
Innes Kennedy stood shocked beside Collette, who had tears streaming down her cheeks.
He was prepared to bash Micheil Munro’s brains in, but there was nothing he could do.
It was a courtesy to agree to a handfast, and Micheil was well within his legal rights to insist that their children marry, making the union permanent.
He looked at Micheil and mouthed, “You will pay for this. I will not forget.” But Micheil had the audacity to grin even wider.
“He didn’t know,” Padraig whispered to Cairren. “Neither did I.”
Cairren’s face crumbled, but no tears came. She turned it, so his clan couldn’t see her shock and despondency. She remained stoic, and Padraig drew courage from this pint-sized woman. If she could endure the shock of the situation, so too could he.
“First, it was ordained for the procreation of children,” Father Mitchell continued.
“To be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name. Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of contingency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body.
Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity.
Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined.
Therefore, if any many can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace. ”
Padraig tensed, waiting to hear Myrna’s voice, or Innes’s. The words forewarning against lust and fornication mocked Padraig, as though they knew they were the only reasons Padraig looked forward to the marriage.
“I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their matrimony lawful. ”
He feared Cairren would speak out, but when silence ensued, Father Mitchell picked up where he left off. Cairren’s expression was once again distant, as though she weren’t attending her own wedding and wasn't standing before him.
Father Mitchell looked at Padraig. “Wilt the have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?
Wilt the love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?
” This was the vow Padraig dreaded but swore to keep even though he didn’t love Cairren.
Unable to offer her love, he felt an obligation to hold true to the other promises.
"I will,” Padraig's clear voice spread across the now silent clan. There was no doubt or hesitation in his tone, and it seemed to bring Cairren back to the present. And now it was Cairren’s turn to agree to the vow that would bind her to Padraig until one of them met their Creator.
“Wilt the have this mon to thy wedded husband,” Father Mitchell intoned.
Padraig didn’t miss the challenge in the priest’s voice, as though he dared Cairren to fail.
“To live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?
Wilt the obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live? ”