Conquered Heart (Legend of the King's Guard Book 1) Page 21

  “What in God’s name are you doing?”

  He answered her with a grin before he used his tongue to shock her.

  Chapter NINETEEN

  Kerrigan rolled to her side and realized she was alone. Noise from the bailey and courtyard sounded but she didn’t move to see what was happening. She stretched and thought about the previous night. Never in her wildest dreams had she considered men and women did such things to each other. She was sure to blush when she saw Graeme.

  He’d made her shake, do, and say things she would never. She hastily wrapped the bed cover around nakedness and knelt beside the bed. In her morning prayers she asked for forgiveness certain she needed it.

  A knock came and before she answered, the door swung open. Graeme’s mother walked in with two women behind her. The formidable woman seemed intent to ruin her pleasant morning.

  “Ah, so you are finally awake? My son must’ve worn ye out last eve. Come, we will bathe and dress ye. My husband expects a wedding this day and we shan’t disappoint him.” Magaidh busied herself and set a pile of garments at the end of the bed.

  Kerrigan wrapped the bed cover tighter around her naked body. Two lads brought in a tub and others filled it with warm water. Chaos ensued when Magaidh spoke orders, barked more like, and forced all those in the chamber to jump at her command. Only two young maids remained when the door finally closed.

  She stood and watched the commotion unsure what she was supposed to do.

  “Remove the cover and get in the tub.”

  It was more of an order than a request, and Kerrigan suspected she should obey. She dropped the cover and stepped into the tub. The water was warmer than she expected. It had been a long time since she’d bathed in a tub. Magaidh set objects near her and motioned for the two maids to wash her. She tried to take the soap from them, but they shook their heads.

  “Nay, milady, remain still,” one of them said. The maid appeared to empathize with her for she gave a sorrowful look.

  Magaidh moved about the chamber. She shook out a long white underdress and hung it near a large wooden wardrobe that stood in the corner.

  “This shall fit ye. You are much taller than I. Thankfully Dawn’s sister has your height.” She indicated with a wave to Dawn who rubbed her hair with cream that smelled like apples.

  A knock came and Magaidh opened it, took more garments from a servant, and closed it. She held a beautiful overdress made from the tartan material Graeme wore.

  “The green and reds might wash out your fair coloring. Och no worries for we’ll pull your hair up and make ye bonnie for my son.” Magaidh swept a hand over the material and hung it next to the underdress.

  She was bid to stand naked near Magaidh who walked around her, surmising and making sounds of approval. “You’re much slighter than Graeme’s first wife. She would’ve bared him fine sons what with her width. You, I am not so sure. I suppose time will tell, will it not given the amount of time ye spend in bed.”

  Kerrigan wasn’t sure if it was a slight or compliment so she remained quiet. She ignored the woman and hoped their company would soon end. Kerrigan had never been more mortified or assessed to such a degree. How she wanted to shoo them from the chamber and dress herself. They dried her further and finally pulled the white underdress over her head.

  Another knock sounded and Magaidh took a trencher of food from a servant. “We cannot have ye swoon at your groom’s feet. Eat.”

  As they prodded her, Kerrigan tried to eat, but her stomach rumbled and she was uncertain if it had to do with hunger or nerves. It’d be a miracle if she kept the food down, for the harridan made her want to vomit in the chamber pot.

  Dawn brushed her hair and verily hurt her scalp. The maid twisted her hair, pulled it tight, wove it, and finally secured it atop her head with pins and ties. She could barely move her neck from the weight of it.

  “Slow movements, lass. We will not have ye undo Dawn’s talented work. Stand.”

  She did so, and the overdress slipped over her and fastened with ribbons. The underdress bodice accentuated her bosom and showed more cleavage than she would’ve liked.

  “We have little time.” Magaidh slipped a pair of soft shoes on her feet. “My son will swallow his tongue when he sees ye. Aye, I’ve done a fair job to make ye presentable.” She handed her a looking glass.

  Kerrigan hadn’t seen her reflection in a long time, likely since she was wee when at Innis Chonnell. Her mother owned such a glass and often she would attend her while she dressed in the morn. The memory instilled a longing for home and for her mother. She peered at the image reflected back at her which was far older than the last.

  A knock came again and man’s voice, “They are ready, milady.”

  “Come.”

  Before she was swept from the chamber, she grabbed the medallion Brodin gave her and set it around her neck, and then tucked it inside her garments. The object was dear to her, and she rarely removed it. Kerrigan didn’t know what to expect and when she stepped from the chamber, nary a soul was within the keep. The steps to the lower level lit with candles and pots of flowers flanked every other step.

  Magaidh led her outside where people parted. Confusion set in because she thought they were to have the sacraments spoken in the laird’s chamber. Obviously plans had changed, unbeknownst to her.

  Graeme’s father sat in a chair and called to her. “’Twould be best to have the ceremony here where all might attend in honor of our soon to be laird. I wish I could walk ye to the groom, lass. Ye look lovely in our colors. This is one of the happier days for me.”

  Kerrigan felt an odd connection to the man and when they’d met the night before, she found talking to him easy. He reminded her of her father, for he bristled on the outside, but had a gentle heart within. She bowed to him before Magaidh tugged her arm and she was bid to walk forward to Graeme.

  Faces of unknown people stared. She kept her eyes on Graeme and hastened to him with quick steps. He wore a staid expression, and she knew her legs would give out. Her breath pitched and her hands moistened. Nerves got the better of her.

  “Have ye nothing to say?” she asked when he continued to gawk at her. As much as she wanted to tell him how handsome he looked, she swallowed hard at being the focus of the many onlookers.

  “There are no words to describe your beauty or what I feel at this moment.” Graeme took her hand and turned to the priest.

  She’d only just noticed the man who stood in front of them. He took their hands and wrapped them with a long swatch of cloth, then spoke rapidly and she was only able to catch a word or two of his litany. How she wanted the affair to be over.

  From the corner of her eye, she watched Graeme. He must’ve bathed too for his hair shone. His beard trim and his garments tidy. He didn’t appear as apprehensive as she for he stood straight with his shoulders squared. He braced his legs and kept his gaze on the priest.

  She returned her attention and bespoke the words expected of her. Within seconds the priest announced they were husband and wife. Kerrigan turned to Graeme, and he lifted her chin. He set his mouth on hers and kissed her. Their vow was further sealed when he didn’t pull away and the kiss turned sensual. She tried to pull away for it wasn’t the sort of kiss one should do in front of the priest or strangers. But Graeme wouldn’t let her.

  The clan’s cheers rose to shouts the longer he kissed her. Kerrigan pinched his arm, and he stepped back. Embarrassed by his show of passion, she kept her gaze low and refused to look at the people that caroused around them.

  “Ah, I forgot others were present.”

  “Indeed,” she said, the edges of her lips formed a smile. She wanted to be angry with him, but he looked at her lovingly. “As nice as this wedding is, I preferred our first, beneath the stars with only God as our witness.”

  He laughed and took her hand and raised it high. “My wife, Lady Kerrigan.”

  The clan cheered again and made way for them to promenade through the crowd. They reache
d Laird Campbell who appeared joyous.

  “I bid ye both a happy life. Graeme, all I have is yours. Share it with your wife and bring more Camerons into the world.”

  “I will, Da.”

  “I am to bed. Be well children.”

  Kerrigan hugged him before he rose. “Thank you, Laird, for your support.”

  He gave a firm nod before being assisted by two men and taken inside the keep.

  Revelry ensued and the clans’ people took to the tables and drinks flowed from casks and barrels. She thanked them as she was introduced to many of the men, women, and children.

  She sat with Anselan and his family. Dawn, the maid who helped her ready for the ceremony, sat beside her husband and held a bairn of two summers on her lap. Ewan, Anselan’s brother didn’t speak much for she never heard a word from him. He was the sort content to sit back and watch the goings on around him.

  As much as the ceremony caused her nerves, the celebration eased her. She was happy to meet the clan she would call family. If only they might stay, but they needed to return and secure Galyn’s babe and the wee Moray. And Graeme had a pledge to keep as well as she. Once Moray’s son was safe, they’d focus on Graeme’s task of seeing his service complete. Yet his vow to King Robert was of far more import than securing a lad and bairn.

  The day went by fast for the sun made its descent. They would leave on the morrow, but she would take the mirth of the people with her. Graeme left her to speak with several crofters who had concerns about the crops they would harvest and store for winter. She sat alone, but needed to see to nature’s call.

  Kerrigan went inside to the chamber she’d been given and took a few minutes of privacy. She picked up the looking glass and smiled for she did look beautiful. Although Dawn twisted her hair so tightly her head ached from the pull at her scalp. She was tempted to pull the pins and ties out and let her hair loose, but Dawn went to much trouble to beautify it.

  She rejoined the celebration and walked around. Inside the walls of the keep, rows of thatched roofed cottages lined the trails and at the far end stood a large well where they retrieved water.

  She stepped near to peer at the opening and saw water rose high in the well, almost to the top. That was expected given the many days of rain in the spring and during the summer.

  Kerrigan didn’t hear the person behind her and when he grabbed her, she didn’t react. She thought Graeme found her, but it wasn’t he. It was Fergus. He gripped her tightly, and she struggled to get free. The man reeked of ale and she sensed he’d been drinking for his movements sluggish.

  He forced her back against him with a dagger to her neck. Kerrigan screamed as loud as she could for it was the only way to alert someone of her predicament. Men ran at them but stopped when Fergus shouted.

  “Stay where ye are.” He pressed the tip of the dagger and it cut her. A warm trickle of blood rolled over her skin. She tried to abate her harsh breath, but couldn’t.

  “Please, don’t hurt me.”

  “Fergus, release her.” Graeme ran toward them and stopped a good length away. His scowl fierce and his sword raised above his shoulders. He lowered it and motioned to the others to stay back.

  “Or what? You stay back or I will do to her what MacGilley did to Sorcha. Aye ye think you know why he killed her? You should ask your ma a thing or two about it.”

  He tensed his forearm and pulled her tight against him.

  “Are ye saying she bid MacGilley kill my wife?”

  “Aye that’s what I’m saying. We planned it, to have you and your father killed. We should’ve known MacGilley was too weak to take ye on.”

  “Release my wife. She has naught to do with you or your hatred for me. She’s a gentle lass.” Graeme stepped forward a few steps, his scowl grew fierce.

  Fergus gripped her and Kerrigan gasped when he turned the dagger and set the blade across the front of her neck. He grew concerned for Graeme stepped forward again, and he backed a step and heaved her against his front.

  “I have done nothing, Fergus. Please let me go. You don’t want to anger Graeme. If you allow me to go, he will not hurt you. He is honorable.” Kerrigan kept her voice low and serene so only he heard her.

  “I cannot have him lead the clan.”

  She loosened her grip on his arm and slowed her breath. The calmer she was, she hoped the calmer he would be. “Don’t come closer, Graeme,” she called out and pleaded with her eyes. But she could tell he was angry, and she needed a few minutes to defuse the situation.

  In a whisper she asked Fergus, “Why shouldn’t he be laird?”

  Fergus used his hand under her breasts to keep her motionless. He shimmied back until they reached a tree behind them. With his back to the tree trunk, he loosened his hold on her. “Because, lass, Magaidh and I … She promised me we would wed. It should’ve been our son not Donald’s to be chieftain.”

  “Graeme is a good man. Surely you don’t wish to punish him because she misled you.”

  “His mother is a bitch, aye a sorceress from the dark mountain beyond.”

  “Kerrigan, what is he saying?” Graeme shouted and held back the men who gathered.

  She detained him with her hand out and hoped Graeme would wait to attack for she knew he was wrath.

  “Will you release me? My husband is upset. He will kill you for this. I don’t wish to see you harmed.”

  Fergus laughed maniacally. “Aye? I’m a dead man anyhow.”

  Kerrigan didn’t know how, but she ended up on her hands and knees before she fell flat on her face. Graeme got to her within seconds and shouted her name. He sat and pulled her halfway across his lap. She glanced back and saw Fergus lying on the ground. Ewan jabbed him with his dagger repeatedly. He kept doing so until Graeme called to him.

  “Ewan, I deem he’s dead.”

  His clansman wiped the blood from his dagger on Fergus’ tartan and tucked it into his waist. “Aye, so he is. I never did like ‘em.” He swiped the back of his forearm across his forehead. “He weren’t all there.”

  It was the most anyone ever heard Ewan speak.

  “Are you hurt?” Graeme held her face.

  “Nay, I’m well, truly. What are you doing?” she asked when he pressed her arms and legs and continued to touch her.

  “Checking to see if you’re hurt anywhere.”

  “My head hurts.”

  He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Did ye hit it when you fell?”

  “Nay, this hair is tied so tightly, my head will be misshaped.”

  “Only you would jest at a time like this. Do ye want me to undo it?”

  She nodded, for her throat ached from screaming loudly. Graeme took his time and removed all the pins and ties until her locks fell loose. He rubbed her scalp, and she moaned feeling relieved.

  “Better?”

  “Much.”

  “I’m sorry, my love, that he hurt you. You’re bleeding.” He kissed the small wound on her neck.

  “’Tis nothing. I am fine, I promise.”

  A lady ran forward and handed him a piece of cloth. “For milady.”

  Graeme thanked her and pressed it against the cut on her neck. “Have him removed, and Ewan, my thanks.”

  “I couldn’t let him harm milady. Is she all right?”

  “I am, Ewan, thank you.”

  The man chuffed and his face brightened.

  “Meet us by the keep, Ewan, after you remove that rabble.”

  “Aye, I will.” Ewan met Anselan and they drug Fergus by his feet through the trees until she saw them no more.

  “Can you stand?” Graeme pressed his hand against her hair and looked at her with concern in his eyes.

  “I believe so.”

  He helped her to rise and hugged her close. “I couldn’t believe he would do that to you and never suspected he’d harm you.”

  “Graeme, he said terrible things.”

  “Come, let us to the table. I need a drink.”

  Anselan and Ewan cau
ght up to them. Anselan set a hand on Graeme’s shoulder. “This calls for something a wee bit stronger than ale. I’ll get a jug of my da’s brew.”

  They reached the tables and several men vacated the benches when they approached. Graeme invited them to sit with them but they begged off, saying their wives expected them.

  Night came quickly and fires lit the main walkways and around the courtyard and keep. Many continued their revelry. Some sat in groups, and one particular crowd drew her attention. A man stood in the center of his comrades and spoke about an ancient curse that befell their clan. His tale was somewhat comical and drew laughter from those who listened.

  Kerrigan couldn’t stop shaking. Though it wasn’t cold, she became chilled. Graeme noticed and set his tartan around her shoulders.

  Anselan placed four cups on the table and poured a clear liquid in them. He passed the cups out and handed one to her. Kerrigan thanked him and looked into the cup.

  “Drink slow, milady. ‘Tis a powerful drink.”

  She did as he bid and took a small sip. The drink warmed her, and she liked the heat that spread in her chest.

  Graeme watched her with interest. “Not too much, wife, or you’ll have a headache in the morn.”

  “This drink tastes good. It warms me.”

  “Aye and it’ll do more than that if you’re not careful. Now tell me, lass, what did Fergus say to you?” Graeme set his cup down after taking a sip.

  Kerrigan took another sip, gulp more like, and related Fergus’ words. “I believe he was angry your mother gave him over for your father.”

  Anselan refilled his cup and grinned when she held hers out for more. He gave a slight nod before saying, “Fergus must’ve thought MacGilley could take ye and it would’ve solved one of his problems.”

  “Aye, but why didn’t he just kill my father then?”

  Ewan held his cup in midair, “Mayhap he couldn’t get to him. The Laird was rarely out of the keep without protection. I made sure of it. Our da bid me to protect his brother.”

  The men continued their speculation and Kerrigan sipped the brew. She never felt so at peace and a wondrous numbness trickled to her limbs. She set her head against Graeme’s shoulder and he shifted to hold her. Why she wanted to laugh was behind her. But she was joyous. Considering what she’d gone through this day: a nerve-wracked wedding where her only acquaintance was the groom, dealing with a harridan of a mother-in-law, and being attacked by an aged lunatic, and yet she was filled with mirth.