Chapter Five #2
My father was dressed in his best finery: a purple cloak with gold silk trim, befitting his nobility.
We did not speak. All that needed to be said had already been spoken.
He led me down the aisle to the pulpit, where Kade Mackenzie stood, flanked by his two brothers.
Laird Knox Mackenzie watched me approach with his arms folded over his broad chest. I couldn’t help noticing that there was a defined melancholy to his countenance, and I recalled hearing that his wife had died some years ago.
Maybe the sight of a wedding dress was reminding him of all he had lost. Wilkie Mackenzie sported a much dreamier expression, but he wasn’t looking at me.
His eyes were fixed on his own bride, the fair-haired Roses, who sat near him in one of the front pews.
And Kade.
I had not seen him for two weeks since I’d nearly collided with him in a corridor; since he’d rescued me from the clutches of Aleck; since my betrothal to him had been decreed.
Now, his face was entirely stoic, as impassive as I might have expected of him.
His eyes never left me, but I could look at him only briefly, noticing abstractly that his ceremonial garb suited him.
He looked tall and noble and at ease in his clan colors.
Yet in the aftermath of all the warnings and revelations of late, Kade’s subdued power and flagrant masculinity were enough to wither my courage.
If I looked at him, I feared I might faint. So I diverted my gaze elsewhere.
As he lifted my veil, he spoke to me, and there was a soft, distinctive gravelly edge to his voice that I already recognized from the few times we had exchanged very brief conversation.
“You look as though you’re about to be fed to the lions,” he commented.
“Be assured, I don’t plan on eating you alive. Not yet, anyway.”
I looked up at him, caught by his cynical, sensual smirk. Was this an attempt at humor? Everything about him was so very undecipherable to me, I could only stare briefly at his face before blushing, dropping my gaze and wishing I was anywhere but here.
The small chapel was full to capacity. My family sat near the front.
My father wore a triumphant gloat, clearly relieved that our clan’s alliance to the Mackenzies would, at last, be sealed.
My sisters and cousins scanned the crowd, making eye contact with possible conquests, reveling in the moment.
There were Munros in attendance, Macintoshes, Buchanans, Machardies, Macsorleys, even Stuarts.
People had come from far and wide to witness the convergence of two major Highland armies and to take part in the celebrations.
I realized with some alarm that the marriage ceremony was already under way.
And the minister’s words only succeeded in deepening my despair.
“The Scottish marriage vows are not to be taken lightly,” he was saying.
“The union is an irrevocable bond never to be broken. Sacred vows, sealed with blood and body, forged by the true love between a man and a woman—”
The room seemed to sway slightly and I felt the light touch of Kade’s hand at my elbow. “Perhaps,” he said to the minister, “we should get straight to the vows.”
The minister paused and nodded knowingly, as though he interpreted Kade’s urgency to get this marriage secured as quickly as possible. He did as Kade requested.
I listened to Kade’s husky voice as he spoke.
“I, Kade Mackenzie, take thee, Stella Morrison, to be my wife.” He continued, and I could acknowledge that his words had a mellow authority to their timbre that seemed to echo through me.
He was calm, and showed no hesitation whatsoever.
And it was fitting, I supposed. He was fulfilling his duty, as I was fulfilling mine.
Maybe he gained more satisfaction from his fate than I did.
When he had finished, I recited my vows obediently, repeating the words spoken by the Mackenzie minister, listening to the droning sound of his litany that would bind me forevermore to a man I wanted nothing to do with.
I thought of my clan, my sisters, their safety and protection under a strengthened army, the security the new alliance would bring, through trade, military might and commerce.
I was a pawn to be used for the greater good and must accept my lot with as much courage as I could muster.
The minister requested my hand and I held my palm up as I was told to do.
It was Laird Mackenzie who ran the blade of his knife across my palm in a clean, almost-painless slice, then he repeated the motion across Kade’s palm.
Laird Mackenzie then sealed our palms together, allowing our blood to mingle.
Kade’s large hand entirely encompassed my own in its hot, rough grasp.
I felt unnerved by his proximity and the knowledge that our essences were combining, that his warrior’s blood now mixed with my own.
But even if I had possessed the nerve to steal my hand away, I could not have done so; Laird Mackenzie wrapped a white linen ribbon around our wrists, tying a tight knot, binding us to each other.
The minister continued loudly with dramatic flair. “I now pronounce you man and wife. Kade Mackenzie, you may seal your vows with a kiss.”
A kiss.
I steeled myself, looking up into the eyes of my new husband. And I was struck by the pale, vibrant blue of them: I had never seen eyes that light, that cleanly blue. Like the sky on a cold, clear day.
He bent to kiss me, his lips barely brushing my own. I thought he would draw away, but his mouth settled with more pressure, inciting a brief sense of recognition at the boundary of my memory. But then it was gone.
The ceremony was done. I was led, by my imposing new husband, through throngs of well-wishers to the grand hall of the Mackenzie manor, where the festivities were already well under way.
* * *
“CONGRATULATIONS, YOU LUCKY SOD,” Tadgh Munro laughingly said to Kade, patting him on the back, “landing the delightful Stella Morrison.”
Kade did not reply to him, pulling me toward a table at the front of the hall. The crowd parted for us as we made our way through.
“Yet she doesn’t seem quite as pleased by the match,” Tadgh called after us. “She’s no doubt heard much of your barbaric reputation, Mackenzie. You’ll have to go easy on the poor lass.” Several men laughed.
Tadgh Munro’s words did nothing to calm my growing apprehension.
I was led to the head table and instructed by Kade to sit.
I did as I was told, as I always did. The only difference was that the person now dictating to me was not my father but my gruff new husband, who at this moment looked as displeased by the entire scenario as I felt.
He glared at me briefly, then sat down next to me and took a large swig from a goblet of ale.
He handed me the goblet and said, “Take a drink.”
“I—I don’t usually drink ale.”
“’Tis your wedding day, lass. Take a drink. Besides, you look like you need it.”
Thinking that his observation might be bordering on insulting, I frowned at him.
But then I realized that I was already frowning.
Maybe he was right. Maybe a drink of ale was exactly what I needed.
In a matter of hours, this marriage and my fate would be sealed by the very man whose solid thigh now pressed firmly against mine.
It was too familiar, this touch, too close—but then, he was now my husband.
My body was his for the taking, in whatever capacity he chose.
As Kade watched me, I took a long sip of the sweet ale. And another.
“I realize this is a marriage of convenience,” he said. “But for the sake of our clan members and our guests, for this evening if not beyond, you might at least pretend that there is something in the match worth celebrating.”
I was irked by his request. Was it not enough that I had dutifully, selflessly gone through with an arranged wedding to a man I suspected to be a merciless scoundrel, all for the sake of my family and my clan?
In fact, I wanted to be anywhere but here, with anyone but him.
Did I need to put on an act for him, as well?
As though I was overjoyed that I would momentarily be ravaged by this brute who wore his formidable reputation as a badge of honor?
I made a small attempt to constrain my reply, yet allowed myself a quiet response. “For you, perhaps.”