Saving Grace

Saving Grace Page 9

Didn’t he know it wasn’t polite to fight on his wedding day?

Oh, Gabriel started out pleasant enough. As soon as Father MacKechnie gave the final blessing and the mass was over, her new husband turned her to face him. He was handed a beautiful multicolored plaid. It matched the one he was wearing. He draped the long, narrow cloth over her right shoulder. A second plaid made with different tones was draped over her left shoulder. The first, her husband explained, was the MacBain plaid; the second, the Maclaurin. He waited until she nodded understanding, then pulled her into his arms and kissed the breath right out of her.

She had expected only a quick peck. She got ravaged. MacBain’s mouth was hard and hot. The heat the passionate kiss sparked made her cheeks turn pink. She considered pulling away, then gave up the idea. The kiss became so consuming, she didn’t have the strength or the inclination.

The laughter in the background finally caught Gabriel’s attention. He abruptly ended the kiss, nodded with satisfaction when he saw the bemused expression on his bride’s face, and then turned his attention to the priest.

She wasn’t as quick to recover. She sagged into her husband’s side.

Father MacKechnie hurried around the side of the altar to give his congratulations. “Well now, that was a fine wedding ceremony,” he announced.

Alex wiggled his way between his father and Johanna. She felt him tugging on her skirts and smiled at the child.

The priest drew her attention again with a snort of laughter. “For a minute there, I didn’t believe we’d get it done.”

Both her husband and the priest looked at Johanna. She smiled back. “I never doubted,” she remarked. “Once I make up my mind to do something. I get it done.”

Neither man looked as though he believed the boast. The priest pulled Alex away from Johanna’s skirts and moved him to stand on his father’s left. “Shall we begin the receiving line?” he suggested. “The clan will want to come forward to offer their good wishes.”

Gabriel continued to stare at his bride. He acted as though he wanted to tell her something but couldn’t get the words out.

“Did you wish to say something to me, Gabriel?”

“Don’t call me that. I dislike the name.”

“But it’s a fine name.”

He grunted. She tried not to take exception to that rather barbaric sound. “You should be proud to have such a grand name.”

He grunted again. She gave up. “What should I call you?” she asked him, trying to be accommodating.

“Laird,” he suggested.

He didn’t look like he was jesting with her. She wasn’t about to agree with his suggestion. It was ridiculous for a husband and wife to use such formal names. She decided to use diplomacy to gain his cooperation, for she didn’t believe defiance would work now.

“But when we’re alone?” she asked. “May I call you Gabriel then?”

“No.”

“Then what . . .”

“If you must address me, call me . . . call me MacBain. Aye, that name will do.”

“If I must address you? Have you any idea how arrogant you sound?”

He shrugged. “No, but it’s good of you to say I’m arrogant.”

“No, it isn’t.”

He was through discussing the topic. “You were right to include the boy.”

Because he’d sounded so gruff and because she was still reacting to the ludicrous suggestion that she call him MacBain, it took a full minute for her to realize he was actually thanking her.

She wasn’t certain how to respond. She nodded, then said, “He should have had a proper bath before the ceremony.”

MacBain tried not to smile. He really shouldn’t let her get away with such open rebukes, but God’s truth, he was so pleased to see she had some spirit inside her, he didn’t chastise her.

“Next time I’ll see that he does.”

It didn’t take any time at all for his barb to hit. The implication that he would marry again wasn’t lost on her.

“You like having the last word, don’t you, Laird?”

“Aye, I do,” he admitted with a grin.

Alex, his father noticed, was staring up at Johanna with a look of rapture on his face. The priest had moved him to the side for the receiving line, but the boy had already squeezed himself next to Johanna again.

His bride had won over the boy in a matter of minutes. MacBain found himself wondering how long it would take him to win her affections. It was a foolish thought. Why did he care how she felt about him? The marriage had secured him the land, and that was all that mattered.

The soldiers from both clans came forward, one by one, to introduce themselves to Johanna and to give their laird their congratulations. The women came forward next. One young red-haired lady who introduced herself as Leila from the Maclaurin clan handed Johanna a beautiful bouquet of purple and white flowers. She thanked the woman for her gift and thought to add the flowers to the nosegay she’d been gripping in her other hand. When she saw the mess she’d made of the flowers Father MacKechnie had given her, she burst into laughter. The flowers were gone. Had she been holding a bouquet of stems throughout the ceremony?

Alex was fidgety by the time the introductions were finished. The women hurried back and forth across the courtyard with trays of food to put out on the tables the men were assembling. Gabriel was deep in conversation with two Maclaurin soldiers.

Johanna turned to Calum and Keith. “There are six horses in the meadow below,” she began.

“One’s to be my very own,” Alex blurted out. MacBain heard his son’s comment and turned back to look at Johanna. His smile was devilish. “So that is how you won him over,” he remarked.

She ignored her husband and kept her attention on the soldiers. “They are my wedding gift to my husband . . . and Alex,” she hastily included. “Will you please send someone to fetch them?”

The soldiers bowed and went to see the task completed. Alex tugged on the hem of Johanna’s bliaut to get her attention.

“Did Papa give you a gift?”

His father answered his question. “Nay, I didn’t, Alex.”

She contradicted him. “Yes, he did, Alex.”

“What did he give you?” the little boy asked. MacBain was also curious to hear what she had to say. She was smiling at Alex.

“He gave me a son.”

MacBain was taken aback by her declaration. His son wasn’t certain what she’d meant.

“But I’m his son,” he declared. He pointed at his chest so she would be sure to understand.

“Yes,” Johanna answered.

The boy smiled. “Is a son better than six horses?”

“Of course.”

“Better than even a hundred?”

“Yes.”

Alex was convinced of his importance. His chest puffed up with pride.

“How old are you?” Johanna asked.

He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. From the puzzled look on his face, she assumed he didn’t know. She turned to her husband to get her answer. He shrugged. He obviously didn’t know either.

She was appalled. “You don’t know your son’s age?”

“He’s young,” MacBain answered.

Alex immediately nodded agreement over his father’s announcement. “I’m young,” he repeated. “Papa, could I go look at the horses?”

Gabriel nodded. His son let go of Johanna’s bliaut and went chasing after Calum and Keith.

Father MacKechnie had witnessed the scene between the child and Johanna. “The lad’s taken with her, isn’t he?” he remarked to the laird as he watched Alex run across the yard.

“She bribed him,” MacBain drawled out.

“Yes, I did,” Johanna agreed.

“Men aren’t so easily won over,” her husband remarked.

“I’m not interested in winning any man over, Laird. Please excuse me. I would like to talk to my brother.”

It was a wonderful dismissal, yet completely ruined when Gabriel grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her back.

Nicholas had to come to her. He was surrounded by women, of course, because of his handsome looks and his gift for charm, and Johanna had to wait several minutes before her brother noticed her motioning to him and disengaged himself from his admirers.

Nicholas addressed MacBain first. “I’ll be sending men here in a month or two to help with the rebuilding.”

MacBain shook his head. “You will not send any soldiers here. We’ll kill them the minute they set foot on our land.”

“You’re a stubborn man, MacBain.”

“How much was the fine you paid to your king?”

“What fine?” Johanna asked.

Both Nicholas and Gabriel ignored her question. Her brother gave MacBain the sum. Gabriel announced he would reimburse the baron for the expense.

Johanna finally caught on. She turned to her brother. “Do you mean to say our king made you pay a fine? Why, Nicholas?”

“Because we chose your husband, Johanna. He agreed . . . for a price.”

“If I’d agreed to marry his choice?” she prodded.

“Williams?” Nicholas asked.

She nodded.

“Then there wouldn’t have been a fine, of course.”

“You lied to me. You told me you didn’t have enough coins to loan me to pay the tax to John so I could remain free for one more year’s time.”

Nicholas let out a sigh. “I did lie.” he admitted. “You were putting off the inevitable, and I was concerned about your safety. Damn it all, you were held prisoner in London. I couldn’t be certain you’d be safe for long, and there was also the worry John might give the Maclaurin land to someone else.”

She knew he was right. She knew he loved her, too, and was thinking only about her safety. “I forgive you your deception, Nicholas.”

“Go home, Baron. Don’t come back. You’ve done your duty. Johanna is my responsibility now.”

Johanna was stunned by her husband’s rudeness. “Now?” she blurted out. “You want him to go home now?”

“Now,” her husband repeated.

“My brother . . .”

“He isn’t your brother.”

She was so outraged by his behavior, she felt like screaming. Her husband wasn’t paying her any attention now. His gaze was directed on Nicholas.

“I should have known,” he said. “You don’t look like brother and sister, and when Johanna gave the priest her full name, I realized you weren’t related. Your feelings for her—”

Nicholas wouldn’t let MacBain continue. “You’re very astute,” he interrupted. “Johanna doesn’t have any inkling, Laird. Leave it be.”

“Laird . . .”

“Leave us, Johanna. This discussion doesn’t concern you.”

His tone of voice didn’t suggest she argue. She started wringing the petals off the fresh bouquet while she looked at the grim expression on each man’s face.

She didn’t have to make up her mind to leave or stay. Father MacKechnie had heard enough to know a fight was brewing. He took hold of Johanna’s arm, feigned enthusiasm, and said, “You’ll be hurting the women’s feelings if you don’t taste their special dishes. Come along now. They’ll fret until they get a wee bit of praise from their new mistress. Do you remember how to say thank you in Gaelic?”

The priest half-dragged, half-nudged her away from the two men. Johanna kept looking back over her shoulder to see what was happening. Nicholas looked furious. So did MacBain. Her husband, she noticed, was doing most of the talking. Nicholas happened to glance her way, noticed she was watching him, and then said something to MacBain. Her husband nodded. The two men turned and disappeared down the slope.

She didn’t see either one of them again until the sun was fading from the sky. She let out a loud sigh of relief when she spotted her husband and her brother coming back up the hill. Streaks of orange from the sun’s descent filled the sky behind them. Their silhouettes, made black by the distance and the sun’s trickery, made them appear mystical. They seemed to rise out of the earth like mighty, invincible godlike warriors. They moved with such easy grace.

They were the fittest warriors she’d ever seen. The archangel Gabriel was surely smiling down at the pair. They were, after all, surely fashioned in his image.

Johanna smiled over her fanciful thoughts. Then she got a good look at their faces. She let out a horrified gasp. Nicholas had a bloody nose. His right eye was swollen shut. MacBain didn’t appear to be in any better condition. Blood poured down from a cut high on his forehead. There was another cut seeping blood at the corner of his mouth.

She didn’t know who to yell at first. She instinctively thought to run to Nicholas and give him holy hell while she measured the extent of his injuries, but by the time she’d lifted the hem of her skirts and started running, she realized she should probably go to Gabriel first. He was her husband now, and he should come first in her thoughts. There was also the fact that, if she was able to soothe his temper, he might be more willing to listen to reason and allow her brother to stay a few more days.

“You’ve been fighting.”

She shouted the accusation when she reached her husband. He didn’t believe he needed to agree. It was damned obvious they’d been fighting, and he didn’t particularly care for the anger in her voice.

Johanna pulled the linen square she kept tucked in the sleeve of her gown and stretched up on tiptoe to pat the blood away from the cut so she could see how deep the injury was. She gently brushed his hair back, out of her way.

He jerked his head back. He wasn’t used to anyone fretting over him, and he didn’t know how to react.

“Do stand still, m’lord,” she ordered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

MacBain stood still and allowed her to fuss over him. Damn, but she pleased him, though not because she was acting concerned about him now. Nay, it was the fact that she’d come to him first.

“Have you resolved whatever was bothering you?” she asked.

“I have,” MacBain answered. He sounded surly.

She looked over at her brother. “And you, Nicholas?”

“Yes.” His tone was every bit as irritated as her husband’s.

She turned back to her husband. “Why did you deliberately provoke Nicholas? He is my brother, you know,” she added with a nod. “My parents took him in when he was just eight years old. He was there when I was born and has been called brother by me from the moment I could speak. You owe him an apology, husband.”