Always Mine (33 page)

Simon Ridley escorted the women following Brianna, and crowds of villagers lined the way, shouting approval and showering Brianna with flowers. The crowd of wedding guests made way for Guardian and Connor to lead her to Damron. Seeing Brianna approach, Damron started to descend the church stairs, but Mereck put a hand on his arm, halting him.

“Nay, Damron. Let Bleddyn do these things her father would have done.”

Connor halted Angel, and Bleddyn stepped forward to offer Damron a black slipper—part of the pair she had worn in defiance with her black gown. He smiled at the symbolic gesture, for the Welshman was giving Brianna over to him and promising that she would forgo her former resistance.

Never had Brianna been more beautiful than she was at this moment as Bleddyn led her up the steps to him. In Damron’s eyes, she was the loveliest of all women.

He, Connor and Mereck stood to Father Matthew’s left, Laird Douglas and Baron Ridley on the priest’s right. Damron tensed.

Brianna would truly be his wife now. The ceremony with King

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Malcolm, King William and Queen Matilda had been no more than a contract. It did not hold the power of today’s ceremony.

Bleddyn placed Brianna’s cold fingers in Damron’s. She clutched his hand, her eyes wide and haunted. He sensed her fear.

Pray God it was not of him and their wedding night to come.

Father Matthew began. He spoke each word clearly, so everyone could witness and attest the legitimacy of the wedding, and any offspring that would come of the union. Damron responded with his vows in a strong, carrying voice.

Brianna’s stomach fluttered like butterflies filled it, and she licked her dry lips. Marriage vows had not changed much over the centuries. Dear God, after speaking vows with him, how would she ever survive if she was sent back to her own time? What if she became pregnant? It would rip her heart out to be taken away from a child. And what of the early Brianna, so woefully unable to handle the dangers here?

Her voice quavered, repeating her vows. When time to promise to obey him, her hands twitched. Beneath her breath so only he could hear, she added, “If it’s not something I believe is foolish.” His grasp tightened.

Mereck handed over a gold band studded with red stones that Damron had chosen for her.

“With this ring I wed ye. With my heart I honor ye.” He placed the ring in turn on her first two fingers. As he spoke the next vow, he fitted the ring snugly on her third finger, where it belonged.

“With my body I will cherish ye.” He stared intently into her eyes.

Sparks flew between them at his words. She blushed and dropped her gaze. He chuckled, the sound wicked.

Laird Douglas stepped forward. “’Tis time for the bride’s fealty oath to her lord. Once done, we will celebrate the mass.”

Surprised, Brianna turned to him and asked, “What oath, Papa Dougie? We just said our vows.”

“Aye, that ye did, granddaughter, but there is another important oath in this case.”

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“Why ‘in this case’?” She frowned suspiciously at Damron.

Damron stared hard at her before answering. “Because, I am tanist of our clan and marryin’ a Saxon. ’Tis not meant as insult, but to assure everyone ye will be a loyal Morgan.” He studied her face a moment, then added, “Kneel and place your hands within mine.”

“Kneel? I don’t think so.” She shook her head.

His big hands clamped on her shoulders. He stared into her eyes as bit by bit, he urged her to her knees. Alana gasped. For her sister’s sake, Brianna stopped resisting and knelt. Her teeth ground together when he clamped her hands tightly between his. There she was, on her knees and her arms uplifted with her hands between his, as if in supplication.

“Mereck will read the words for ye to repeat.”

Mereck took the paper Damron gave him and quickly scanned it. He cast Brianna an uncertain glance, cleared his throat and quietly read the oath.

“I, Brianna Morgan, vow fealty to my lord husband, Damron of Blackthorn.” She repeated it easily.

“I vow to honor him in all ways, and to be loyal to his clan.” She also had no conflict with this and spoke the words.

“I will forsake all other loves by thought or deed.” She hesitated, wondering why Damron would request such an oath.

After his grip tightened on her fingers, she spoke the words.

On hearing the next vow, “I will obey, keep myself only unto him, and will never leave him as long as breath is in my body,” she startled, tugged her hands and tried to stand.

Damron refused to let her rise, and waited. His hands gripped hers with a new urgency, willing her to respond. Her gaze traveled slowly from the tips of his shining black shoes to finally rest on his face. He seemed to hold his breath. His body looked chiseled from solid stone.

“Promise me ye will never leave me, or ye will stay on yer knees till morn and beyond.” His eyes blazed with determination.

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She believed him. “I vow to obey him within reason. To follow his lead in keeping myself only onto him.” She ignored his low curse. How could she repeat the rest? To promise to never leave him? What if he grew to love her? Her throat tightened and ached, thinking of his anguish if she suddenly disappeared. She shuddered, fearful for him. Finally, she cleared her throat. “And never willingly leave while breath is in my body.”

Bleddyn moved close behind Damron. “Do not force more from her than she can honestly give. You cannot break her to your will, but in time, you may bend her to it. The way of it you will have to discover for yourself, or it will be your undoing.”

Damron lifted Brianna to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her, and with his lips and his tongue, he vented his frustration against her strong will. When he released her, he straightened her garland, then gently cupped her cheeks and kissed that small spot between her eyes.

He did not regret forcing her vows. Though he could not quite believe Brianna could be from another time, she had threatened to leave him before. The thought that she could elude him filled him with fear. He would force her to stay.

He wanted her. He loved her. He would keep her.

Damron held Brianna tight against his side, while they followed Father Matthew into the church.

The doors were propped open so everyone outside could participate in the mass. When they emerged, a path led to the doors of the keep. Damron walked slowly, for Brianna’s legs seemed unsteady.

Food already rested on trestle tables in the inner bailey for the village people and the retainers who had come with the clans. Servants began filling tables in the hall for the feast.

Brianna stood dutifully by Damron. She did not protest when men grasped her in the air and kissed her. When

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Mereck came close, Damron stamped hard on his brother’s toes, pretending to stumble.

Mereck kissed Brianna’s cheek. “’Tis sorry I am to be the one to read ye the vows.”

She smiled and hugged him. “I know, Mereck. I am grateful that it was you who read them. How can a wife keep a vow to never leave under any circumstances? There are some things a person can’t control, no matter how much they wish to.”

The feast could not begin until Damron and Brianna sat at the board, so he escorted her to sit beside him at the head of the table.

He chose the best morsels of goose with a sauce of grapes and garlic, roasted pork, quail and poultry for their trencher. He placed a small bowl of carrots glazed with honey near her, knowing they were her favorites. Whatever he thought would please her, he set before them, tempting her to eat.

Everything seemed to stick in Brianna’s throat, for cold fear coursed through her. She kept remembering standing in the castle’s antique shop when his hands had reached through the mist to pin the brooch to her clothing.

His deep voice, laden with tension, had entreated, “Promise me, promise me ye will never leave me,” just before her soul was brought here. His words drummed through her head. Her heart skipped a beat knowing she had, centuries later, finally answered his plea.

Damron’s gaze entreated Bleddyn, for Brianna had eaten but a morsel of food. The Welshman stood and motioned for Meghan.

“Come, my heart,” he murmured to Brianna, “eat while I sing for you.”

Meghan stood with her pipes, while Bleddyn sat on a tall stool in front of the table.

He started a rhythmic beat on the bodhran and began to sing in his beautiful Welsh tenor. Meghan’s pipes chimed in.

How could she coax such sounds from the strange instrument?

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Brianna saw his gaze go to the food on her trencher, and she obediently started to eat. They did not stop their music until she had eaten enough to last through the grueling hours.

’Twas a tedious day. Damron never left her side. The weather was cool, so they gathered out of doors. Often throughout the day, Brianna felt the hair rise at the nape of her neck. She turned to find who stared at her, but noted only Asceline with the same blond man she had seen before. The Frenchwoman glared at her. She pulled him by the hand, and they disappeared in the crowd.

Night began to fall, and stars lit the sky. It was time for all of the gathered crosses to be lit for the Scottish ceremony.

Damron helped her up the steps to a platform, where Lord Douglas raised his hand for quiet.

“The time has come where I no longer am able to run hither and yon to keep peace, to quell raids or lead armies into battle. For many years, I have trained my grandson Damron.

Ye have elected him tanist, to take o’er as chief when I pass.

I dinna want to watch from heaven above. Nor do I intend to. Greet and give homage to the new Laird of the Morgans, Damron Alasdair, a Morgan of Blackthorn. Tomorrow, he will stand on this very platform, and ye will give him yer vows.”

“Grandfather, ye canna do this. Ye have many years left to lead our people,” Damron protested above the approving shouts.

“Nay, Damron, dinna deny me the pleasure. I will be with ye as ye say, and I will have the joy to play with yer children, to write and sketch like I have always wished. I do not envy ye the burdens that now fall on yer shoulders. Know I will be here to help whene’er ye need me.”

When Damron still hesitated, Connor handed Lord Douglas the great sword that belonged to the Chiefs of Clan Morgan.

Damron’s hands shook as he accepted it from his grandfather.

Lord Douglas handed a symbolic eagle feather to Mereck.

With pride beaming from his eyes, Mereck fastened it

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behind Damron’s brooch that held his plaid at his shoulder.

Mereck’s face lit in a beatific smile as he turned to hug his grandfather, then swung back to Damron.

“May I have the honor to be first to vow fealty, brother?”

Damron clutched Mereck close. “It will be so at first light of morn.” He turned to his grandfather, went down on one knee to kiss his hand, then stood and held up his arms to quiet the men making a din as they thumped their swords against shields or anything else handy. It would be as his grandfather wished, but they would wait until the morrow for the vows of fealty.

“We have yet a small ceremony to finish afore I can take my bride to my bed,” he said, then laughed at their bawdy shouts.

He took Brianna’s hand. Meghan and Angus stepped onto the platform with them and started the wedding music. Lord Douglas faced them and asked that they repeat parts of their vows, with the pipers playing softly in the background. For Brianna, he wisely left off the word obey, and asked only if she would love, honor and cherish Damron until death they did part. She said her vows as strongly and earnestly as Damron did. Connor then handed Lord Douglas a finely honed misericord.

“My wee kelpie, dinna be afeared I will do ye harm. I will place a small cut on yer wrist, one on Damron’s, and then join the two with our colors. Bleddyn has seen to cleansing the blade, so it willna corrupt the wound. Will ye trust me in this?”

“I trust you with my life, Papa Dougie.”

“Give me your left wrist, Damron, as ’tis closest to yer heart.”

Damron obediently bared his wrist to the blade. Lord Douglas made a cut just large enough for blood to flow freely. “Now, little one, let me have yer right wrist so that his lifeblood can mingle with yers, and yers with his.” Brianna lifted her wrist to him. She held very still. Only a quick intake of breath showed the sting of the cut. Mereck joined their wrists together, blood against blood, with a thin strip of Morgan plaid. He draped a Morgan tartan

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about Brianna and pinned it at her left shoulder with the brooch Damron had given her.

Meghan and Angus piped a joyful melody as they preceded them down the steps. Damron and Brianna’s palms were clasped together, his fingers entwined with hers. He anxiously watched her face. She did not look unduly upset. The pipers, with Guardian ahead of them, led the wedded couple.

Lord Douglas, Mereck and Connor solemnly followed to circle the platform, around the burning crosses and back to where they had started.

The crowd parted, and the pipers then led them to the keep’s doors. When they returned to the great hall, it had been cleared of all food and the extra tables. Benches had been set along the walls in several rows, ready for the evening’s entertainment.

While their guests were occupied watching the entertainers, Bleddyn came to unbind their wrists, cleanse the wounds and apply a healing salve.

Damron tenderly gathered Brianna in his arms and started up the stairs. Guardian padded close behind, his long tongue lolling out, making his great wolf face look foolish.

Chapter 20

Damron’s riveting stare froze Mari in her tracks. Her gaze darted from him to Brianna, and then to the door.

“Mari, yer mistress needs yer help.” He cleared the huski-ness from his voice. “I am afeared I would ruin her wedding finery were I to assist her.”

His gaze searched Brianna’s blushing face as he leaned slightly backward and lowered her down his body. His rampant tarse nudged the juncture of her legs and bucked, revealing its impatience to be buried deep within her heated flesh. A raspy chuckle slipped from his throat on seeing her face flame as though she had never been in his arms afore.