Page 52 of Highland Storm

“And will you give me a true oath of fealty… despite what your brother might say?”

“I am my own man,” Keane assured him.

David mac Maíl Chaluim smiled, like a cat who’d waited very patiently for his meal to come to play. “Then the deal is done,” he agreed with a fierce note of satisfaction. “Now,” he said, magnanimously, “let us prepare a feast in celebration!”

Chapter

Eighteen

On the altar behind the dais, a sea of candles danced, their celebratory glow lending the front of the chapel a golden light. But no lutes played this day, no violas, no voices rang with cheer. It was a somber occasion.

Lianae stood next to Keane before the king’s prelate, begging her knees to cease knocking beneath her new gown. For the first time in days, she felt clean. She’d scarce been able to wait to rip off that other gown—the one belonging to Elspeth. It had offended her every second she had worn it, despite that it was more lavish than the one she now wore.

This gown was simply made, but made of blue and gold sendal, with gold trim about the neckline and sleeves and a girdle made of gold. The cloak was velvet, trimmed with minerva and Lianae wore it thrown back, clasped at her throat with a golden broach. Her battered and bruised feet were swaddled in pale blue silk.

Standing at her side, dressed in dark blue and gold, Keane looked more a prince than a simple warrior. His shining black hair was clasped at the back, as were his hands, as though he meant to keep them from strangling Lianae where she stood.

The priest cleared his throat. “Who comes forth to be wed today?”

It was the king who replied. “Keane dún Scoti and Lianae of Moray.”

“And who gives the bride to be wed?”

“I do,” said the king.

Lianae swallowed her grief, for she had hoped it would be her father’s right—and if not her father’s, mayhap her brothers. Behind them, the congregation remained silent, so silent she could hear the drip, drip of melting snow outside upon the eave.

“Do any oppose these two be wed?”

Keane cleared his throat although he did not speak, and Lianae held her breath as she watched the candles shiver in their sconces.

No one else spoke a word, but she had visions of the Earl bursting in through the chapel doors. Or mayhap Keane’s sister tearfully beseeching the King on her knees. None of these things came to pass, however. The room remained painfully silent, waiting for the priest to continue.

“Enough,” the king bellowed impatiently. “There will be none who oppose this union.”

And the prelate cleared his throat. “Very well,” he relented. “Will you, Keane dún Scoti, newly appointed laird to Dunràth, have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thyself only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

The priest was looking straight at Keane and when Keane didn’t immediately respond, he asked, “Will you?”

Her betrothed’s reply was curt. “Aye,” he said.

The priest settled a far less nervous smile upon Lianae. “Very well now, Lianae of Moray, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey and serve him, love, honor and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thyself only unto your laird husband?”

It seemed to Lianae that the priest accused her with his question. “I will,” she replied.

“Louder, child, so all may hear!”

“I will,” she repeated, enunciating the words more distinctly.

The priest smirked at her, avoiding Keane’s gaze. “Very well, then may God, who is merciful and just, bless this union and make you fruitful that you may bring forth sons and daughters to praise his name.”

“So be it,” Lianae said, when Keane remained silent.

“So be it,” Keane said tightly.

Lianae turned to face her new husband, vowing never to give him cause to rue this day. She would be a good wife to him, bear his bairns and she would cherish him until the day she died. She begged him to understand, pleaded with her eyes.

Forgive me, Keane.