Page 9 of Bride takes a Scot

Oddly, Shaw wore a smile on his face. Though they both bore the marks of the fight, the crowd seemed somehow slighted. It was as if the men purposely ended the fight sooner than they should have. Isabella was glad it had ended, and she had to keep herself from celebrating Declan’s victory because it would be unseemly and a slight to Shaw.

The queen, on the other hand, squealed with delight and clapped her hands. “I knew MacKendrick would win this bout. Is this not wonderful, Alexander?”

The king muttered, “I am gladdened you are enjoying yourself, My Lady.”

Edmund shouted and called, “The battle is finished. The winner is Laird MacKendrick. Come forward to claim your bride.”

Isabella squeezed her hands together and closed her eyes briefly. The moment was at hand when he’d declare who he chose for his wife. Would her name cross his lips? She prayed silently that he would select her and opened her eyes to view the proceedings.

Declan stood before the dais. He had a blackening eye and swollen cheeks, but his face wasn’t nearly as battered as Shaw’s. Her fingers tightened in their clasp, and she just about breathed as she waited in anticipation, with her heart thrumming in her ears.

“MacKendrick, ye have your choice of bride. What say ye? Whom do you select?” Alexander asked in a booming voice.

With an unwavering voice, Declan declared, “I choose Isabella, Lord Adam Forrester’s daughter.”

“Very well, you shall wed directly after the midday meal,” Alexander said. “The next bout will commence in a short moment. Three brides remain.”

If she had to marry one of the Highlanders, she was gladdened it was Declan. She appreciated that he hadn’t taken offense to her teasing and outspokenness. And at the very least, he seemed noble even if he was somewhat daunting in his appearance. His demeanor couldn’t be mistaken with the slight frown he wore, his overly long hair cascading wavy blond locks over his manly shoulders. He didn’t appear pleased to be marrying her in spite of the fact he’d fought to name her, given the scowl on his brow.

Still, if another had chosen her, Isabella had been told by the queen that she could reject the proposal until the man she wanted selected her. When the queen questioned her about her choice of husband, Isabella happily vowed that only MacKendrick would suit her. But she needn’t have worried because there were whispers in the queen’s antechamber that Margaret liked to meddle in her husband’s affairs. Isabellasuspected the queen took matters into her hands which was probably why Declan had won the bout so easily and especially had won her hand in marriage.

*

Isabella still reeledfrom the fight she’d witnessed. Supper ended much too soon for her liking. The trepidation of the wedding weighed on her and she couldn’t eat a bite of the midday meal. As much as she wanted to abscond, she had little choice but to go forth. She stood in front of the dais with Declan MacKendrick by her side, her mind a whirl of events that happened since she’d arrived the day before. She wore her favorite of the gowns her mother had allowed her to bring with her.

Declan wore a bruised eye and a little swelling on the side of his face to the wedding. Other than that, she could hardly tell he’d been in a fight.

The king and queen sat in their chairs, avid onlookers to their nuptials. Only family and friends were permitted besides the king and queen in Alexander’s private chamber for the taking of the vows. Isabella regarded her parents, especially her father, who appeared forlorn, but they bore it well in front of their sovereign. She had expected her father’s emotional outburst, but he kept his sobs to a minimum. Declan, she noticed, had no family present.

The king’s chancellor bespoke the sacramental rites and offered his marital advice. When he finished, he bade them to state their agreement to marry. It was all a blur to her, but before she knew it, the chancellor had instructed Declan to kiss her. He leaned forward and she waited in anticipation for him to set his lips on hers. Instead, he brushed her cheek withhis nose and placed a chaste kiss there, leaving her surprised and disappointed. She’d expected the bold man to kiss her possessively, or at least with some kind of vigor. Instead, Declan pulled back and stepped to her side.

“I offer my congratulations to you both,” the king said. “MacKendrick, you will consummate the marriage with all due haste. There will be no petitions for an annulment. You shall uphold your end of our agreement. Is that understood?”

“I give ye my accord, Sire.” Declan nodded slightly and pulled her away. When they reached the entrance to the great hall, he stopped and pulled her aside. “Milady, we will leave in a moment. Make ready and say your farewells.”

“Now? You wish to leave now? But it’s after midday. Shouldn’t we await the morrow?” A heated sense wound its way up her neck, and she fanned herself with her hand, but it did no good to alleviate her panic. It wasn’t that she was afraid to be alone with Declan, but the thought that she was leaving her life and going to an unknown place quite overwhelmed her.

“Aye, I will not stay another minute this close to the Sassenach. If ye wish to say your farewells to your parents, they await you.” Declan bowed his head and set off.

Isabella turned and found her parents standing behind her. She called to him, “I shall meet you outside then, my lord.” Then she waited for her parents to speak, but it was evident that her father was far too emotional to utter a word. “Worry not, Father, I shall fare well. Promise me that you’ll not be saddened. I will write to you when I can. Take care when you go…hunting. I shall worry for your safety.”

“Remember all that I have taught you. You have all the knowledge of how to be a good wife,” her mother said. “In time, you shan’t miss us at all. You’ll be busy raising your babies.”

Isabella nodded absently to her mother. “If Christopher returns, please tell him… Tell him to write to me.” She worriedso for her brother, but the likelihood that he would return from the crusade was slight. News arrived daily bringing the names of soldiers and regiments that had perished.

“We shall. Go on, dearest, your husband awaits,” her mother said. “’Tis best not to keep him waiting. That is not a good way to begin a marriage. Remember your manners and tamper your temper. You do not want your husband thinking you a shrew.”

“I will keep you both in my prayers.” As Isabella turned to leave, her father bawled and carried on. Her mother consoled him, but all in the great hall, including the king and queen, witnessed his sorrowful behavior.

With brightened cheeks, Isabella left. She was completely humiliated by her father’s manners. Still, it lightened her heart to think he, and maybe even her mother, though she always presented a strong sense of duty, would miss her.

She found their belongings along with others outside awaiting the footmen’s handling of putting the trunks and baggage on the carriages. A manservant hastened forward, retrieved her valise, and walked toward the horses to secure it.

Isabella backed up and tried to find Declan among the men standing around. She gasped when she bumped into someone. He prevented her from falling to the ground. Isabella gazed behind her at Declan whose hands clasped her body just beneath her breasts on her upper waist. A rush of warmth shot through her.

“Milady, are ye ready?”

She shook her head and swallowed hard at having his hands intimately holding her. He continued to keep his hands firmly on her and she turned, set her hands on his chest, and wanted badly to lean into him and have him embrace her. All to be held in his strong arms, but he released her, and his arms shifted to his sides. He approached the horses all but ignoring her silent plea.