Highland Promise (17 page)

        She stopped beside him, cast a furtive glance about the hall, then whispered, "Brendan, I apologize for getting you into this shambles. 'Twas never my intent to trap you. I cannot stop the wedding, but I do have a plan. When we reach Scotland, we shall get an annulment. You will take me to the convent at Saint Bride like you promised. Then you may choose a better wife."

        That had to be the most insulting plan he'd ever heard. She couldn't truly believe he would take her to wife only to discard her. "And did you spend much time on this plan?"

        "Aye." She looked longingly at his mouth and whispered, "You may kiss me though."

        He couldn't have heard her correctly. "What may I do?"

        "You may kiss me," she explained. "If we are to get an annulment, we cannot consummate the marriage, but kissing is permitted."

        Her audacity rendered him speechless for the first time in his life.

        She drew her brows together and stared up at him through worried eyes. "You do like to kiss me, do you not?"

        The lass was exasperating. This was not a conversation he wanted with his bride mere moments before their wedding. The archbishop took his place beside the king's throne and motioned for them to approach.

        "We have not the time to discuss this now. The archbishop beckons us."

        Taking her arm, he led Faith across the chamber and stood before the prelate. Brendan's men fell in behind them, except for Michael who was conspicuously absent.

         Faith nudged his side and whispered, "Is Michael all right?"

        She was right to worry. "Michael awoke riled enough to take on the entire English army barehanded. 'Tis safe to assume he'll survive your brew."

        A crimson hue stained her cheeks, putting some much-needed color into her flesh beneath the flour. "I am sorry."

        "Are we ready to commence?" the archbishop asked as he adjusted his ceremonial robes.

        Brendan pulled the end of his plaid strip from his shoulder. Taking Faith's right hand in his, he tossed the plaid over their joined hands. "You may begin."

        The archbishop droned. Faith fidgeted. Her gaze darted about the hall as if searching for an escape. She tried to tug her hand from his, but he held her firmly. Her fingers curled toward her palm. He interlaced his fingers with hers, letting her fingernails cut into the back of his hand. Her other hand balled into a fist as she shifted from foot to foot. Brendan sighed. He could only imagine the damage she was doing to her other poor palm.

        A sudden gasp escaped her pale lips, and she looked at the archbishop. "Excuse me for a moment, Your Excellency."

        "Are you unwell, milady?" the archbishop asked in a kindly manner.

        "Nay, but I must tell Laird Sutherland something." She turned to Brendan. A storm waged in turbulent sea-green eyes as she poked his chest. "I want to make something clear," she whispered. "While we are together, if you make my life a living hell, then you will be living in hell with me."

        Saint Andrew, but he couldn't have been more delighted. The lass had remembered his jesting words at precisely the moment he wished. She even appeared ready to challenge him if he carried them out. He winked at her and returned his attention to the archbishop. "Your Excellency may proceed."

        The wedding soon ended. In keeping with the kiss-for-luck tradition, he gave Faith a chaste kiss on the lips. He wasn't about to give the lass more. Aye, he would keep his kisses from her until she told him about her disguise.

        Faith frowned. "Is that all?"

        He cocked a brow. "What do you mean?"

        "I liked your other kisses better." She cast her gaze to the floor.

        'Twas time the lass understood a few things. He nudged up her chin so she would look at him. "Faith, let me make something clear. I married you because—"

        "I know." She waved a hand, disregarding his words. "I opened my mouth, and King Henry forced—"

        He placed a finger over her mouth. "Do not interrupt when I am speaking. 'Tis a bad habit you have. King Henry and all of his army could never have forced me to wed you had I not wanted to. There will be no dissolution of this marriage. As my wife, you will not insult me and you will follow my orders. Now go get your things and meet me in my chamber."

        "Now!" she bellowed, her face a chalky mask. She glanced about at the crowd staring at her with knowing smirks. "I am not ready," she squeaked. "I ah..." Her gaze bounced around the room, coming to land on the servants bearing food. "I have not broken my fast. I need a wedding feast. Then we should ah, ah—"

        He placed his hand over her mouth and frowned over her panic. She had misunderstood him, but her reaction confirmed his misgivings. He would have to rid her of her fear before the consummation. Brendan took her hands in his and relaxed his expression. "Faith, your fears are for naught. Get your things and go to my chamber. I shall have a tray sent to you. Then I will tend your hands, and we shall leave for home."

        "You mean you are not going to... I mean..." She took a deep breath. "Brendan, about what you said to the councilmen about me…" She bit her lip and shook her head. "Never mind."

        The lass wanted to tell him, but had guarded her disguise too long to reveal it easily. He would give her until they reached his mountain. Then her clothes would come off and their marriage would be consummated whether she told him or not. Right now, a little goading might help her mood. Better to have an angry Faith than a frightened one.

        He crooked his lips. "So you heard that, did you? Do not let my praise go to your head. Even if she is near perfect, I do not want an arrogant woman."

        She glared just as he had hoped she would. "You are arrogant, and I do not like it in you either."

        He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "The only thing about you that truly grieves me is the wart. Aye, we'll be getting rid of it after I tend your hands."

        Her eyes grew cloudy blue, and her fingers flew to her face as if she would protect the blemish. "How?"

        "I have heard of two methods." He crossed his arms, then raised a hand and rubbed his chin. "One is to burn it off with a red-hot iron. Of course, that leaves a hideous scar."

        She blanched, and he wanted to laugh.

        "The other is to cut it off with a sharp blade, though I have heard this method is not always permanent, and the wart may come back. Aye," he nodded, "we shall use the iron."

        "Nay! I mean..." She glanced about at the court guests. Then she placed a hand on his arm, moved closer, and whispered, "Brendan, 'tis not real. I wear it to... Oh, it does not matter why. You may not burn my face."

        Well, she had finally admitted that much. Damn if she didn't deserve a reward. "Faith, look at me."

        She tilted her head back. He lowered his lips upon hers for an ardent kiss. Hoots and cheers arose around them. She moaned and leaned into his embrace. Her moist tongue slipped into his mouth, caressing and mating. She tasted so sweet, and her uninhibited response spurred his lust. 'Twas hard to focus on his purpose as he savored her passion, but he managed.

        Tightening his hold with one arm, he raised his other hand and caressed her jaw. Before she could figure out his intent, he peeled the plaster atrocity from her face with a quick yank.

        She jerked back from him, breaking the kiss. Her fingers flew to her upper lip as her brows drew together with fury. "You lout, you took flesh."

        "I did not wound you." Brendan pulled her hand from her face and kissed the wartless spot. "Would you have preferred the hot iron? I myself would have preferred to remove it with a tender hand."

        Before he could touch her again, she fled the room.

        "God's teeth," an Englishman cried out. "Lady Faith's wart is gone."

        "Damn right, the evil mark is gone," Luthias announced. "Any curse on the lass is thwarted. She's been kissed by a Highlander."

~ * ~

       The man was a demon sent from hell to torment her.

        Faith rushed through the corridors toward her chambers with Jamie and Cleit close behind. She needed to be alone to calm down and think. Brendan had said he wanted to marry her and hadn't even considered her plan for an annulment. Surely he jested and still intended to take her to Saint Bride. He couldn't truly mean to keep her. And why did he have to rip the plaster from her face in a hall-full room of guests? She felt naked without that infernal wart.

        Mayhap he didn't understand the binding nature of penance. She risked eternal hellfire if she didn't become a nun. She would have to find a priest to explain to Brendan the threat this marriage posed to both their immortal souls. But where was she to find a priest Brendan would trust? What if no priest could convince him?

        Rats, what if Brendan did keep her? He would want to mate with her eventually. He needed heirs after all. He was bound to learn of her deception if her clothes came off. Then he would surely hate her. Her heart lurched. She didn't think she could bear his hate, though why that mattered she didn't know. He had her so confused.

        Entering her chamber, she slammed the door and placed a hand to her chest. Panic rose inside her with a suffocating force.

        "Are you unwell, milady? You look so pale."

        Faith glanced up at the familiar voice. "Noreen?"

        The old maid smiled, and Faith ran into her open arms.

        "Oh, Noreen, everything is so out of sorts," she whispered against the comforting bosom of her faithful servant. Then she gave into tears.

        Noreen moved her hands over Faith's back in soothing strokes. "All will be well, lass. You just trust Almighty God, Blessed Saint Andrew, and your husband." Noreen cupped Faith's face in her palms. "'Tis good to see that wart gone. And do not wait too long to tell The Sutherland your secret. Highlanders appreciate honesty, and the truth will come out when he makes you his wife in fact."

        Faith sniffed, stifling her tears. "I do not even wish to think about that. I am trying to come up with a plan—"

        "How many times do I have to warn you of the trouble your plans brew?" Noreen chided, drying Faith's eyes with her apron. "I have loved you like my own daughter. I know I should speak with you about tonight, but we have not the time. So you just trust your husband to get you through the coupling."

        Embarrassment heated Faith's flesh. She shook her head and changed the topic. "You have been a wonderful mother to me, Noreen. You will always hold a special place in my heart."

        The maid suddenly looked old, and Faith wondered when that had happened. Kissing a wrinkled cheek, she tightened her embrace. "Watch over Leland for me, and love his bride as you have always loved me."

        "I will try my best, lass, but I fear that will be impossible." Noreen drew out of Faith's arms, dabbing her own eyes with her apron. She moved to the bed and patted a bundle. "I packed some food and a few necessities for your journey. Even put an extra blanket in your bundle. 'Tis almost the harvest and the nights will be nippy once you reach the Highlands."

        Faith glanced at the bundle wrapped in Brendan's plaid. She took a steadying breath to keep from throwing herself back into Noreen's arms. "My thanks. I have been too unsettled to pack."

        The maid wrung her apron in her hands. "You just remember I have always tried to do what is best for you, even when you did not like it."

        "I know that, Noreen. I have never doubted your loyalty or intentions."

        "Well, you just keep it in mind. Someone else wishes to bid you farewell, so I'll be leaving." She kissed Faith and gave her one last hug. "Godspeed, lass. And trust The Sutherland. He is the answer to my prayers for you. Will you give me one last smile?"

        Faith gave her a tight smile. "So I have you to blame. 'Tis no wonder I ended up wed. The Almighty was surely confused with so many conflicting prayers going up between us."

        "He answered the right one," Noreen said, caginess creeping into her grin.

        After Noreen left, Faith stared at the closed door. She already missed the meddlesome woman.

        "Faith?" The whisper came from behind her.

        She gasped and turned as Leland came out of the shadows. Her brother appeared ill at ease. No wonder Noreen had said she always did what she thought best, even if Faith didn't like it. The interfering old woman must have told Leland the truth about Rawlins, or Leland would never have come here.

        Faith felt unsure, bruises from their last meeting still fresh on her heart. She cleared her throat. "My thanks for allowing Noreen to bid me farewell."

        "God's bones, Faith!" He raked his fingers through his hair and turned an agonized gaze upon her. "Why did you not tell me? All these years I have taken you for granted. I never knew what you suffered."

        "I have not suffered, Leland. I sought only to protect myself."

        "Why did you not tell me about Rawlins, or Edrik, or that damn priest?" he demanded in an anguished tenor.

        "You should not damn a priest, Leland," Faith instructed. Her heart ached. Knowing the truth forced maturity on Leland. His growing pains were distressing to watch.

        "I was outraged when Noreen told me." He plowed his fingers through his short curls. "Had I known, I would have thanked The Sutherland, not tried to kill him."

        Faith sighed. This was the last time she would see Leland. She needed to tell him the truth to heal the rift between them. "I never told you about Rawlins because he was our brother. You loved him, and I did not wish to take away your happy memories. I never mentioned Edrik because he...frightens me. His hold over you seems so strong. I feared you would believe his lies over my word."

        "How could you think such a thing?" he gasped. "Of course I would have believed you. You are my sister."