Chapter 32
“Anythin’ to report?” Gordon asked above the choked sobs of the housekeeper, who sat in the front row of the chapel.
Happy tears, or so she had insisted all morning, before descending into fresh weeping again, a handkerchief pressed to her nose. Marcus sat at her side, with his arm around her and his other arm holding Lizzy. Although he too looked a little misty-eyed.
Keith shook his head. “No unexpected guests as of yet, me Laird, but I wouldnae be certain there’ll be no interruptions. If that English bastard kens about the cèilidh, ye can be certain he’s watchin’ and waitin’ somewhere.”
“Aye, I ken all that, which is why ye should be instructin’ the lads to search the forest again,” Gordon said, his patience gossamer thin.
“And miss the happy occasion? Nay, me Laird, I couldnae do that,” Keith replied with a grin.
“Anyway, I already gave the instruction for search parties to scour the woods. Everyone is ready for a fight, me Laird. There’s a double guard on the battlements, a double guard outside the walls, and two soldiers stationed at every blind spot or weak point, as well as six men on the gates, checkin’ everyone that comes through. ”
“Speaking of which.” He glanced back at the rather small congregation. “I assumed there’d be more guests. Are the folks that are comin’ to the cèilidh nae supposed to be attendin’ the weddin’?”
“Whatever for?” Gordon grumbled. “I daenae need this weddin’ to be a spectacle. They can congratulate us tomorrow at the festivities. Indeed, I’m sure they will be relieved that they didnae have to sit through the weddin’. They can just enjoy the entertainin’ part.”
Keith gave a low whistle. “I didnae realize ye were so severe on the institution of marriage. Do ye nae find this all ever so romantic?”
Gordon didn’t have time to answer, as the chapel doors opened with a faint whine of old hinges. He turned sharply, just in time to see his bride silhouetted by hazy sunlight, standing there like the angel she was. Although the temptation of her gown was rather more infernal.
It glittered as she began to walk down the aisle toward him, the sway of her hips reminding him of last night and how he’d gathered up all of that billowing fabric to pleasure her. He thought of the sweet heat between her thighs and just how close he had come to breaking the other half of his vow.
All because of that dress and the woman within it.
He couldn’t explain it, but seeing his bride in her wedding dress awakened a primal instinct within him. And it was happening again as he watched her intently, each step bringing her closer to him.
Her father was leading her, and to his amusement, Gordon saw that she had decided to forgo a bouquet of flowers. Instead, she held Snout against her breast, his sharp little teeth chewing on a bead.
Gordon met her eyes and felt his chest tighten as she smiled back at him. A smile so bright that it outshone the sun, and made him worry that he might be the reason it would fade one day.
Small though it was, the wedding felt utterly perfect to Agnes. There was no one superfluous in attendance, no great fuss of a wedding breakfast afterward, no dancing or awkward conversations to be had, and no need to be the center of attention.
Instead, she got to enjoy herself, speaking to her father, Iona, Marcus, and the village women who were giddy to be invited as honored guests for their part in helping protect Lizzy.
She got to tend to her niece and comfort the fox cub, and she got to eat a delicious meal in the Lesser Hall without a worry about being judged.
The ceremony itself had been perfect in its simplicity too, taking no time at all. And, most importantly, she had said her vows without fumbling them, though she had been a little nervous.
If there was just one thing she could have changed, it would have been her husband’s quietness. Not to mention the fact that he kept leaving the hall every half an hour or so and came back looking increasingly stressed.
But she was happy. Happier than she had expected to be. And her hopes were high after last night, even if it was foolish to raise them.
All too soon, with yawns and excuses, the simple wedding came to an end just as sunset had begun to bronze the sky.
“I’ll take the wee lassie and put her to bed,” Iona offered, Lizzy already fast asleep in her arms. “I’m sure ye and the Laird will want to be alone, but daenae worry, I’ll watch over her.”
Agnes smiled at the older woman. “Thank you, Iona.”
“Daenae mention it.” The housekeeper flashed her a wink. “Ye’re a beautiful bride, me Lady. I ken that our clan will only get better now that ye’re here, one of us at last.”
The village women leaped into the conversation, agreeing with Iona with great enthusiasm.
“I cannae wait for more gatherings,” one said gleefully.
“No one will stay away now that ye’re here, me Lady,” another declared. “All this castle needed was a lass’s touch.”
“It’s a new beginnin’ for us all,” a third interjected.
“There’ll be good times again; I can feel it.”
“Aye, it’s about time everyone moved on from the past. This is how ye do it—with a weddin’, with a celebration, and with the promise of heirs to secure the future of our clan.”
Agnes flushed at that, not daring to glance in Gordon’s direction in case he had heard.
Of course, she knew that her husband’s mind would not be changed overnight, but… perhaps it might in weeks, or even months. After all, who could endure night after night of frustration and not eventually give in?
It would be no dishonor to your son or your son’s mother, Gordon. I know they would want you to be happy.
She kept that to herself as she listened to the women chatter for a while, before the baker ushered them all out, promising that they would see her again at the cèilidh tomorrow.
“Goodnight, dear girl,” her father said, rising from his chair, a little unsteady on his feet after too many glasses of good wine and several measures of potent whiskey.
Agnes rose to embrace him. “Goodnight, Father. Thank you for being here.”
“I would not have missed it, my darling,” he said, his tone bittersweet. “I am so proud of you, Agnes. I know that your mother and your sister are smiling down on you, glad that you and Lizzy are safe and content at last.”
Agnes’s eyes pricked with tears. “As I am sure they are glad that you are here and that you are in the land of the living again, enjoying yourself.”
“Rather too much, I fear,” her father mumbled as he pulled back, hiccupping.
With a smile and a drunken wave, he shambled off across the hall and out the door, with Marcus following close behind him. And just like that, the newlyweds were left alone in the quiet hall.
“Come on,” Gordon said, offering his hand. “Let’s get ye to bed.”
Agnes shyly took his hand, her hopes rising once again. He could not have been ignorant of the still early hour, so she rather thought it meant something: that he wanted to take her to bed.
With a giddy flutter of her stomach, she allowed him to lead her through the quiet hallways of the castle—hallways that would be filled with guests tomorrow—and felt her heart beat faster as they made their way up to the bedchamber where she had spent her first night. His room, not hers.
Is this to be my wedding gift, to hear that he has changed his mind?
It would make a perfect day even more perfect.
Gordon pushed open the bedroom door and guided her inside, his hand on the small of her back. Another promising sign… or so she thought.
He looked down at her with a smile and leaned in. Her eyes closed as she anticipated the searing, passionate graze of his lips. As such, the soft, tender peck to her cheek was a confusing disappointment.
“Goodnight, lass,” he murmured.
Her eyes snapped open, her ire flaring. “Goodnight? It is barely sunset.”
“I thought ye might be tired after such a busy day.”
She frowned. “Well, are you staying?”
“I can if ye want me to,” he replied flatly. “If ye’re nae tired, we can play cards or… walk in the gardens. Whatever ye prefer.”
She huffed out a breath. “So, am I to understand that we will not be consummating our marriage tonight?”
Her voice was colder than she had intended, iced by her disappointment.
True, he had already told her what she could and could not expect of him, but after last night, she had thought that something had shifted. That his rules might be more bendable than he had first suggested.
“Nae just tonight,” he said gently. “I told ye this, Sunshine. I cannae afford to—”
“To what?” she cut in sharply. “Gordon, believe me when I say that I respect your wishes to honor the memory of your child, but I have seen what happens when someone buries themselves in their grief. I have seen what happens when the living stop living because someone is gone. My father was the same way when my mother died.”
He tilted his head, his eyes soft as he stared at her. But he didn’t speak, leaving room for her to continue.
“He locked himself away and closed all the drapes,” she went on.
“He saw no one, including my sister and me. He withheld all affection until we felt, for a time, that he had died too. He lost friends, and everyone around him lost their patience. He almost ruined his life because he could not overcome his grief. And just the other day, he agreed that my mother would be furious with him and the way he acted if she were here now. The dead do not want to punish us for still being alive!”
Gordon sighed. “I daenae doubt that ye’re right, lass.”
“Then why are you so determined to be unhappy, to deny yourself a future with me?” she shot back, her eyes stinging with confused tears.
He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “Because I daenae deserve it, Sunshine. Aye, we might be bound in marriage now, but I willnae bind ye to me by blood. I am the monster ye willnae believe I am. Ye daenae want to have children with me, and I wouldnae foist them on ye.”
“But… But you are not a monster!” she rasped, grabbing his hands. “Nothing about you is monstrous, and I cannot fathom why you are being so stubborn about that!”
He laughed dryly. “Have ye nae wondered why they wrote those things about me in yer almanac?”
“They were lies,” she insisted. “The man I have come to know is none of those things.”
He shook his head. “They werenae lies, lass.” He squeezed her hands gently. “Would ye like to ken why they call me the Mad Laird?”
“Well, I assume it is because you also locked yourself away after the death of your son, shunning everyone,” she said, feeling rather certain she had figured it out. “I haven’t forgotten how gloomy this place was when I first arrived. It was like a tomb.”
A sad smile graced his lips. “I didnae shun everyone, lass. They shunned me, as they had every right to.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “That is what ye do when a man kills his own faither and the entirety of his faither’s personal guard.”
“What?” She recoiled involuntarily, her mind bursting with visions of those men in the marketplace, how swiftly Gordon had dispatched them.
“I didnae tell ye everythin’ about Katherine and me son,” he admitted, his voice heavy with fatigue.
“Five years ago, I happened to hear me faither talkin’ with his man-at-arms. He said—and I’ll never forget it—‘that whore healer was a fool to think I’d ever let her or her bastard anywhere near me son.
He’ll wed a suitable lass, a bride from a powerful clan, nae some worthless shrew.
She killed herself, as far as I’m concerned.
If she’d stayed quiet, she and her bastard would still be alive. ’
“That’s how I learned where she was and that he was the one who sent her there.
And when I confronted him, that’s how I learned that he had sent a carriage under the ruse of bringing her and me son here, and had arranged for brigands to murder them on the road.
I loved Katherine as me dearest friend, and she died because she trusted me.
Me son died because I was his faither, nothin’ more. ”
Tears beaded on Agnes’s lashes as she listened to his terrible tale, her heart aching, not just for him but also for Katherine and their son.
“I became a wild beast,” he said in a faraway voice.
“I couldnae be stopped. I killed them all. I killed me faither and every man close to him who kent the truth and did nothin’.
And I killed the brigands too, although that came afterward.
There was more blood than I’ve ever seen in me life, and when I emerged from his study, I was drenched in it.
A few people fled then, and everyone else was quick to follow.
Only the soldiers stayed, and Iona and Marcus.
I liked it that way, shuttin’ out the rest of the world. ”
Agnes took a deep breath. “You were mad with grief. You had just learned something atrocious. Who would not lash out?”
Even now, she refused to believe that there was an evil bone in his body.
“I didnae ‘lash out,’ lass. I massacred them,” he emphasized.
“Daenae make excuses for me. I am what I told ye I was, and I willnae have any bairns because no bairn should have a monster for a faither. And though ye’ve found yerself with a monster for a husband, I willnae consummate our marriage, in case a day comes when ye see the beast beneath and wish to leave. ”
“Would a beast let me leave?” she countered, struggling to figure out how she could make him see sense.
He shrugged. “I’d rather lose ye that way than another.”
“But… my Laird, you are already losing me,” she told him, exasperated. “You are losing me, but it does not have to be that way.”
He withdrew his hands. “Aye, it does.”
“But you said I was yours!” she reminded him.
“As long as ye’re in this castle, ye are,” he replied. “And I hope that, even if I cannae give ye everythin’, what I can give is enough reason for ye to stay. Although I willnae stop ye if ye walk away.”
It was all too infuriating, her heart sore in her chest, but she could sense that they were only going to argue in circles.
And now that she thought about it, she was rather tired.
Tired of the disappointment. Tired of him blowing hot and cold.
Tired of feeling something that was clearly not reciprocated. Just tired.
“Goodnight, then,” she said curtly as she breezed past him and climbed into bed, turning her back to him, not bothering to take off her wedding gown.
As she lay there, her head on the pillow, she quickly brushed a tear from her cheek and wondered how such a lovely day could have ended like this.
A short while later, as the bed groaned under Gordon’s weight, she wished for the first time that he would just go.