Chapter 4
His bride was late.
Standing outside the church door, surrounded by the MacFarlanes and representatives from the other four clans, Lachlan was forced to listen to the prattle of Father Shaw as he continued his two-day rage against the marriage.
“Ye must know that I can refuse to officiate the union!”
“Ye can. I can also write to the king and explain that ye refused to officiate a union meant to bring peace and that we will require another priest,” Lachlan said easily, but his gaze sharpened with the threat.
His patience was hanging by a thread and he was tired of listening to the man’s constant outrage.
It was his decision whether to honor the mourning period for his cousin and although he hated breaking it, this marriage was too important to change his mind.
However, if his bride didn’t come down soon, he would march up to the keep, sling her over his shoulder, and haul her down himself.
The late afternoon had brought sun and warmth, but as the dusk began to rise, the air turned colder.
Clad in warm cloaks and huddled together, the gathering audience of all five clans were waiting in anticipation of the union and their mixed reactions were clear.
Most were eager for the feast that lay ahead.
Some were angry at the choice of bride and others were merely curious.
One was anxious to get it over with. Once again, Lachlan glanced impatiently over his shoulder.
A wave of murmurs from the crowd drew his attention and he was relieved to see Sloane walking toward him.
His mother and sister were flanked on each side of her.
They wore tense smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.
Sloane, on the other hand, had wide eyes and a face full of apprehension.
Scanning the crowd, his gaze landed on Errol.
There was a sharp gleam in the man’s eye as he watched them.
“Is everything all right?” he asked his mother in a low voice as she delivered Sloane to the base of the steps.
Anticipating that Sloane might not behave like a normal bride, he’d asked the clan to give them some space, so they stood several feet away from the door where he would not be easily overheard.
His bride was dressed elegantly and her red hair gleamed under the setting sun. Obviously, his mother or his sister or both had gotten their hands on her, although it did nothing to wipe the obvious fear in her eyes.
“Everything is fine,” Maggie said smoothly. “We jest wanted yer bride to be perfect.”
It was a lie, but they were here now, so he let it slide. Grasping Sloane’s hand, he frowned when he found it ice-cold. Although she didn’t pull away, she did tremble.
Bloody hell, she is terrified.
“Once again,” Shaw began.
“If ye are so against it, then give us the quick version,” Lachlan snapped. “Now.”
The priest hissed, but he dutifully asked Sloane if she was a willing participant in the marriage. The nod was so small that Lachlan almost missed it. Shaw didn’t seem all that happy, but he quickly skimmed through the marriage rites and rituals.
“Before God, we are gathered today to bless the union between the Fenton and MacFarlane clans. Before His powerful presence, Sloane and Lachlan will profess the vows that will bind them in this lifetime. If the bride will repeat these vows: from henceforth, I vow to serve my husband with reverence and obedience. I will be respectful and faithful.”
He paused and stared at Sloane who cocked her head and frowned.
“Lass.” Lachlan nudged her. “Ye must speak.”
“What?” Blinking, she jerked and turned up to him. “What am I to say?”
Gritting his teeth, he hoped that their voices were not carrying over the crowd. He’d been worried that she might turn and run. It didn’t occur to him that she had no idea what to do or say during the ceremony.
“Father Shaw, if ye will please repeat the vows Lady Sloane must swear to.”
“The lass is aware that she is marrying ye, aye?” the priest demanded. “I am well aware of yer Highlanders’ penchant for kidnapping yer brides and wedding them against their will.”
Before Lachlan could growl in response, Sloane cleared her throat.
“I can assure ye, Father, that I am not the type to be kidnapped nor would anyone want to force me to marry them. I believe ’tis actually the Laird who is marrying against his will.
I will ask that ye be patient with me. I have never seen a wedding ceremony and I am not sure what I am to do.
Ye want me to echo the vows, aye? Please say them again. ”
Seemingly mollified, the father repeated the vows. Sloane frowned. “Will he be vowing the same? To be obedient to me?”
Lachlan was only slightly amused when the priest’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Certainly not!” Father Shaw sputtered. “He will vow to protect ye and be faithful and be respectful.”
“How is he going to be respectful if I am the only one to be obedient?” she demanded a little too loudly.
The clan leaders shifted on their feet and covered their mouths to hide their laughter except for Errol who stepped forward with rage in his eyes.
Not wanting him to embarrass his bride on their wedding day, Lachlan shook his head and bent low to her ear.
“Sloane,” he whispered. “We must do this. We must have peace within the clan alliance. Doona fight me on this. ‘Tis jest words.”
“’Tis a vow before God,” she whispered back. “’Tis not something to take lightly.”
Bloody hell, the lass was difficult. “I willna ask ye to do anything that will harm ye. Ye shall not fear being obedient to me.”
She seemed to consider his words carefully before she nodded and turned back to the priest. “Verra well. I vow to be faithful, respectful, and be obedient so long as the request made to me is also respectful and not absurd.”
Groaning, Lachlan held up his hand before the priest could bluster further. “’Tis fine,” he snapped. “Continue, for God’s sake.”
The father glared and gave Lachlan his vows which he hastily repeated. Finally, he raised his hands in the air and widened them as if to encompass the couple.
“Today, we bless these two to grow in love and the light of God. May their union be blessed with many fruits and the joy that can only come from love.”
Gritting his teeth, Lachlan wished he’d reminded the priest to take out the parts about love. This was a political marriage. Taking the walking stick leaning against the church, Shaw dragged it along the ground in a circle around them.
“Within this ring, ye make yer vows, and in this ring, yer vows have become binding. Wedded ye are and wedded ye shall remain until death.”
A cry rose up from the crowd, but Lachlan suspected that it was more about the dinner feast ahead rather than the fact that he was married.
Sloane tried to tug her hand away, but he didn’t drop it.
Instead, he drew her near. “The clan can be crass during marriage celebrations. Doona let it get to ye.”
He expected her to tell him that she understood or that she’d seen it before, but her eyes just widened and she nodded again. Instead of comforting her, he’d just made things worse.
Swearing silently at himself, he dropped her hand and pointed to the keep.
A couple of steps behind her, Lachlan escorted her to the hall.
When she tried to sit at the wrong side of the table, he wrapped a hand around her waist and escorted her to the chair left of him.
It puzzled him that she didn’t understand the marriage rituals.
As the daughter of the Laird, she should have attended more than a few.
Why would Errol sequester her away from even his own clan?
She picked at her food and wrapped her arms around herself until she all but disappeared right there in her seat. When he realized that no one was saying a single word to her, he narrowed his eyes and glared at the men around him.
“I believe some well-wishes are in order,” Lachlan demanded.
At first, his men just gaped at them, but it was Elspeth, the lovely woman seated by Adair who rolled her eyes.
“Sloane, my dear, welcome to the MacFarlane clan. I am Elspeth. My husband, Adair, is part of Lachlan’s inner guard.
Please doona mistake their silence toward ye as rudeness. They are all complete blockheads.”
“Hey,” Adair objected. “Ye cannae call me a blockhead. I married ye, did I not?”
“Even a blockhead is allowed a brilliant move once in a while,” Elspeth retorted.
The table broke up in laughter, and Lachlan was relieved to see Sloane relax a little.
Although she didn’t eat more of her dinner, her smiles looked more relaxed and she politely answered questions.
When dinner was over, the music and dancing began around the bonfire outside.
He tried to keep an eye on Sloane, but Gair caught his attention.
“I wish ye well in yer marriage,” Gair said stiffly.
“Strange how yer well wishes doona seem sincere,” Lachlan replied dryly. “Why do ye not jest come out and say what has been on yer mind for days?”
“Forcing a woman to wed because of an alliance is distasteful.” Lifting the mug of ale, Gair stared into the fire. “Yer sister hasna spoken one word to me once she discovered her fate. We were friends.”
They were more than friends. Lachlan was not a fool. He could see the obvious affection that had bloomed between the two. “Freya is a willful woman. She doesna like having a decision made for her even if it were a decision that she would have made herself.”
Gair turned his head and the bonfire burned in his eyes. “Aye? Ye think?”
“I know. Woo her for the next three months. ’Tis all she wants.”
At that, Gair visibly relaxed and he grinned like a fool. “I think I can handle that.”
“Good. I care about my sister’s happiness. I wouldna have agreed to it if I didna think she would be happy.”
“And what about yer happiness? Yer wife doesna seem thrilled with the union.”