Page 5 of Bride takes a Scot

Her mother and father dared not protest. Isabella followed them inside. Her nerves made her jumpy and bangs from somewhere down the hallway caused her to flinch. She wasn’t sure why the king wanted to meet with her privately, but she wouldn’t cower before him.

After her parents were whisked away down one corridor by servants, the chamberlain led her down another, walking beside her. They went up and down a randomly placed set of stone steps, passing empty, narrow tables set here and there along the walls, and sconces set high above her. Their open flames did little to eliminate the darkness in the windowless corridor, though it pushed it back a bit. Indeed, Edinburgh Castle was the most luxurious keep she’d ever seen.

The chamberlain smiled at a passing servant woman and then motioned Isabella forward. Not knowing what to say, Isabella remained quiet.

“I suppose you might be a wee bit anxious, meeting the king?” The chamberlain read her mind. Or maybe he could feel the nervousness radiating from her in spite of the fact that she was trying so hard to emanate calm.

“Aye, perhaps,” she granted. Her throat was dry, and her voice came out in a raspy sound. She frowned and reminded herself not to show anything but bravery, in a ladylike way, of course.

They reached a door at the end of the long hallway, and he stopped and turned to her. “There is no need to fear our king, Mistress. Our king is noble, especially when it concerns bonny lassies like yourself. I have heard he has selected a few other maidens to give to several Highlanders in marriage. I deem you shall be pleased by his reward.”

Reward? Was the chamberlain maddened? He had to be if he considered marriage to a Highlander a reward.

Besides, the king’s missive had said nothing about Highlanders. Surely their sovereign understood how the people by the border felt about those who lived in the Highlands. Isabella had heard the most outlandish tales about the men who lived in the far north from their old stablemaster. He’d said that they were primitive, still lived in tribes, dug out trenches on the side of hills, and worshiped pagan gods. Lord help her, was she about to marry such a man, a confounded heathen?

If King Alexander forced her to marry a barbarian, Isabella would have to object. He couldn’t make her agree before a priest. Somehow, she thought that probably wouldn’t matter, her objection. No one dared to defy an order from the king, least of all an insignificant woman like herself.

Edmund opened the door and waved her forward. Isabella swallowed hard, then entered. She stood in wait and wonderment. Inside the cozy, warm, private chamber of King Alexander stood a group of people. Her heart began to pound. The Highlanders! She noted right off how tall they were, how muscular, and how intimidating they appeared. The men wore tartans over yellowish tunics that reached their knees, and their boots were well-made. Most wore their hair cut to the base of their necks but some had long tresses that fell upon their shoulders—sinfully barbaric. They might have been primitive-looking, but by her faith, they were exceedingly handsome…and looked strong. They seemed displeased to be standing together, given the hostility in their glares and the harsh grimaces on their bearded faces.

The king, with his wife Margaret, entered the chamber by way of a side door and murmured to the men before he and the queen proceeded to the dais. She smiled at them. Margaret was a young queen, perhaps only a year or two younger thanIsabella. The king appeared younger than the men being offered as husbands. He stood as tall but was not as muscular or intimidating as the Highlanders.

The women, she suspected, who were also brides, stood cloistered together by the row of window casements. Isabella joined them because she didn’t want to stand out. She didn’t introduce herself to the ladies but smiled.

“This is a day of import, and I am pleased to see you here,” the king said. “This evening, we shall have a feast with dancing and merriment. I will give you this time to greet each other and become familiar. Before the night ends, the selections will be discussed, and finalized on the morrow. I bid you to eat and drink.”

Isabella was somewhat relieved to receive confirmation that the women there were also offered as brides. She wasn’t alone. Amongst the eight of them, there would be four weddings. Given that, she couldn’t bring herself to glance back at the men because each man was as intimidating as the next.

At once, servants bustled into the room and opened double-wide doors that led into the great hall. The hall’s splendor held Isabella breathless. There had to be hundreds of candles sending a glow throughout the chamber. Tables were ladened with all kinds of foodstuff and lined the wall from one end of the hall to the other. A group of musicians sat at the far end and began to play soft music appropriate for mealtime. Soon, parents and other relatives joined them, and the hall filled with people.

Isabella didn’t know what to do. She dared not eat because her stomach was filled with flutters. Her parents, she noticed, had entered the hall but mingled with the other elders. Isabella stood by the windows and waited to see what the night would bring. The men appeared rooted to the floorboards too and none moved about the chamber.

She turned and peered through the windows in hopes of avoiding the men as much as possible. Brazenness, her mother had once professed, ran in her blood. Isabella was often outspoken and usually being in the company of others didn’t bother her, but that was at home. She didn’t want to make a bloody fool of herself at the king’s castle in front of so many strangers, so she kept to herself.

The women coyly strode forward and drew the men from their perches. Soon after, conversation flowed within the chamber and some danced to the music which rose in tempo. The first man to approach her smiled and asked her who she was, where she was from, and other nonsensical questions. She answered as best she could. Isabella detested how he felt free to interview for the position of his wife. It felt cold, unfeeling, and utterly humiliating.

After that, each of the men sought her in turn, and she spent a short time with each of them. That was certainly not enough for any one of them to gauge an opinion of her, but it mattered not because she had no say in whom she would marry.

All she learned was that the Highlanders were something to behold. One of the men had a charming disposition and seemed honorable. The next man wore such a scowl and had a fearsome warrior mien about him, he certainly wouldn’t do as her husband. Another professed to care about his clan and that being a laird took up most of his time. She got the subtle idea that the last thing he wanted was a bride, which was fine with her as she wasn’t truly interested in a groom. Yet here they were, all forced to marry by their sovereign’s order.

The last man had yet to approach her. He stood by the large hearth with his arms folded at his chest, surveying the chamber with piercing golden eyes. He hadn’t spoken to anyone. When his eyes met hers, Isabella’s breath caught slightly. After that, he kept his gaze fastened on hers and did not glance elsewhere.The man was tall, broad-shouldered, thickly legged, and wore his hair far too long. It was his eyes, though, that she noticed the most. They were golden-brown and rich like honey, but his gaze gave little away. She couldn’t tell if he was pleased or displeased at being there, or what he thought of her.

His garments were tidy, his tannish-colored tunic stretched across his manly chest. Covering most of it was a woolen tartan of blue with a green plaid. Her eyes scrunched at the belt holding his lower garment in place; beneath the hem, his bronzed knees led to low, well-made boots that barely reached his calves. In her opinion, he showed a little too much skin. But all that wasn’t what held her attention. Instead, it was that he had the largest sword strapped to his side that she’d ever beheld. Isabella was surprised he hadn’t removed his weapon when he’d entered the king’s castle, but Highlanders were known to be stubborn, and he probably refused to leave his weapon at the door.

She stepped back when she noticed he’d begun stepping toward her. Isabella wanted to flee, but she smiled instead, gathered her courage, and waited for him to join her. His height wasn’t exaggerated because she barely reached his shoulders. As small framed as she was, he could crush her with little effort. Never, in all the years she thought of her future husband, had she ever envisioned marrying a man such as the man now towering above her. Lord help her if she had to marry the Highlander.

“Are ye as appalled as I am to be here?” His voice was gruff but entirely masculine, with a deep burr to his words.

Isabella let out a small nervous laugh, but then she realized he was quite serious. She moistened her lips and tried to shake away the overwhelming sense he brought forth. She hoped he’d reveal a little about himself because there was a kindness in his eyes but perhaps a little sadness too. His size intimidated her but she admired his relaxed manner as he stood next to her. The factthat he was appalled alluded to the fact that he was displeased by the marriage he would soon undertake.

“I cannot say I’m too outraged to be here. I am Isabella. My father is Lord Adam Forrester.” She curtseyed to him and when she raised her face, she couldn’t help but smile. Lord, he was handsome, even if he somewhat frightened her. The men at home would probably run for their lives if they ever encountered him, whether in the light of day or dark of night.

He bowed slightly. “I am Declan, Laird MacKendrick of Inveraray.”

“I suppose you will want to question me now about what kind of wife I shall be, how many children I’ll give you, and how pious I am. I fear that I shall probably disappoint you with my answers.” She raised her chin, even if she knew it made her appear defiant. With any luck, she realized, her attitude would frighten this lord—and any other—away.

“Ye do not wish to marry, lass?” He sounded stunned that she would speak so openly. Within an instant, he changed his expression. His scowl disappeared and he almost smiled. At least, the edges of his manly lips turned upward. Still, Isabella saw the brief sparkle of outrage, or perhaps it was mirth, in his eyes.

“It’s not that. I just don’t wish to be questioned about things that do not matter.”