Nevertheless, I was too accustomed to violence to expect anything less of him, andthistype of impending violence would be more personal and more damaging than anything I had so far experienced: this I knew.
If I hadn’t been pulled up to have my hair washed and attended to, I might have stayed in my underwater haven, to slip away and never know. As it was, I was so lost in my silent, fevered reservations that before I even knew what was happening, I was bathed, dried, dressed, primped, polished and perfumed to within an inch of my life, and ready to attend my own wedding.
* * *
IFIHADbeen in a better state to appreciate such things, I might have registered through the haze of my distraction that the day was sunny and warm, that the mood was festive, that Kinloch’s small chapel was an exquisite, reverential space with its white walls and shards of colored light.
I floated through the proceedings as though watching them from a protective distance.
My gown was beautiful; that much I could appreciate. Its crushed velvet fabric was white yet tinged with pale shades of pink. The fitted bodice was inlaid with whitesilk ribbons, intricately woven in a seashell pattern. The long skirt fell elegantly to the floor, and the hem was gathered with shiny white pieces of shell. I wore a lace veil that offered me a welcome barrier against the events of the day, for now.
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 masculinitywere 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,YOULUCKYSOD,” 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 tableat 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.”
