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Will narrowed his eyes at Morna and gave her the only ounce of kindness he could muster amid his raging disappointment.
‘I will give you one wedding gift, and it is this - I will not demand that you consummate our marriage this eve.’
‘So, when? Tell me, so that I do not have to live my life dreading it,’ she hissed.
‘When I’ve a mind to, and only if you ask me nicely,’ he said, turning and walking away.
Chapter Eighteen
Morna sat on the bed with her knees pulled up and her arms around them for comfort. How many days had he been gone now, ten? It felt like more. Oh, the frustration was overwhelming.
Will had gone to sea almost as soon as the wedding was done with if it could be called that. A hasty ordeal presided over by a scabrous, old priest who smelt of drink, and with only Waldrick and Braya to bear witness. It was all done in haste and with bad temper on both sides. It was not the wedding day young girls dream of, but then Morna had never considered marriage to be the achievement of her life, more the ending of it, so she did not mourn her chance to shine and play the blushing bride. Much good it would have done her, for Will had barely looked at her as he said his words, pledging, no doubt insincerely, that he would comfort and cherish her always. What a liar he was, but then so was she, and the priest, sensing the tension, had hastened through the ceremony and then told them to seal their union with a kiss.
‘Unholy union that it is,’ snarled Will at the poor man, before taking her face between his rough hands and kissing her, far too long for decency, until Waldrick started to cough discreetly to put an end to it. Morna knew he was only faking his ardour to annoy her, but she wondered why she had not wanted him to stop. The priest, fearing he was presiding over a forced marriage, had scurried away as quickly as possible afterwards, followed by the others. She had been left standing with her new husband, suddenly tongue-tied and unsure of herself, a feeling that was new and not at all pleasant. It had brought tears to her eyes for some foolish reason, and all he had said was, ‘It is done now, Morna. We must both try and make the best of it,’ and then turned and walked away.
These last days, alone, she had tried to reconcile herself to becoming a Bain. It was not all bad. Cormac was safe, for now at least, and so were the people at Fitheach. If she was to become a less selfish person, this was a good way to start. Her new husband was indeed a sight to behold. Will was far more handsome than many men who had shown an interest in her, strapping and delicious in a brutish sort of way. He had a manner about him that was appealing when he was not goading or teasing her in that bitter way of his. Though a part of her craved his good opinion, she determined not to soften towards Will. After all, he’d married her for an alliance, and she did have her pride.
But Morna had to admit that sometimes she felt sad for all Will had suffered, particularly his mutilated hand, for the humiliation on his face when she recoiled from it had been clear. Will had been wrenched out his childhood early in life and, with his family gone, he had no one in the world who truly cared for him. But the other side of that coin was that he seemed to care for no one in return. People were to be used, especially women. She could want his hard body pressed to hers all she might, but that did not mean he cared a jot for her or concerned himself with what she wanted. A repeat of that night spent in his chamber writhing around under his tongue would be welcome, but he did not seem to want it, and it tortured her that he had abandoned her so easily. It was all too confusing. Perhaps Will was right - she had no idea what she really wanted.
A bell ringing had her upright and running to the window at once. Morna peered out to sea and smiled. A billowing sail was visible on the horizon. Will was home, so life was about to get interesting again. Nervous and excited, giddy and feeling a little foolish, Morna determined to show she was none of these things and waiting patiently on her bed for Will to come to her.
Hours passed, and he did not.
With most of the day gone, Morna went in search of him, a search which took her down to his ship where it swayed and creaked in its berth. Will was leaning against the mast, cutting an apple with his knife and watching her approach with an amused look on his face.
‘Ah, my loving wife, come to welcome me home.’
‘You did not see fit to come and see me, so I must come to you.’
‘So it would seem.’ He chewed slowly on a piece of apple while Morna got more riled. ‘Have you been behaving yourself in my absence, wife?’ he said.
‘Absolutely not. Where have you been?’
‘Enjoying the ocean. She is a less cruel mistress than you,’ he said, offering her a piece of apple.
Morna took it and chewed on it to calm herself down. Why did he have to look so good? Why did the dying sun have to turn his hair bronze and make his eyes so blue and compelling? Why could she not drag her own eyes away from those big hands as they sliced the knife into that apple, taking a piece of it at a time, just like her temper.
He eased himself off the mast and came over to her. ‘I have news,’ he said bluntly, and there was excitement in his eyes. ‘There is to be a gathering of the Clans hereabouts, on neutral territory, so none of us can murder each other, though we dearly want to. I have returned only to provision the ship and set sail tomorrow.’
‘How long will you be gone this time?’
‘Hard to say but I can’t leave the sheep too long unprotected, else the wolves gather and feast.’
‘Must you talk in riddles, Will?’
He did not reply but merely smiled at her in that boyish way which made her feel weak inside.
‘Look, Will, if you don’t want to tell me what you are about, that is up to you. It is getting cold, I am going inside.’
He caught her arm, and for a moment Morna hoped he’d kiss her. ‘Would you prefer I did not go?’
‘It is no matter to me if you stay or go.’
‘Liar.’
‘Don’t imagine that I will pine for you, or that I will miss you.’
He laughed. ‘No, I won’t, Morna, because you are coming with me,’ he said, planting a rough kiss on her mouth. With that, he sauntered off back along the rocks, and Morna stood like a fool with the salt spray wetting her skirts. Excitement at the prospect of a journey warred with terror at getting back on a ship. The last time, she had been in mortal peril, sick, cold and facing a terrible fate. Would this time be any different now she was Will’s wife? Could she trust in him to keep her safe? At least it was an end to her confinement at Fitheach, and there must be a reason he wanted her with him, though she couldn’t puzzle out what it was.
