'It would appear he's upset about something.'
Father MacKechnie drew their attention by waving to them. Nicholas took hold of Johanna's elbow and started forward. She couldn't take her gaze away from the child. Lord, he looked pitiful and lost.
'They're ready,' Nicholas announced. 'Here comes MacBain.'
The laird walked across the courtyard and took his place in front of the altar. His hands were at his sides. The priest moved to stand next to him. He again motioned Johanna forward.
'I can't do this, not without…'
'It's going to be all right.'
'You don't understand,' she whispered, smiling. 'Wait here, Nicholas. I'll be right back.'
The priest waved to Johanna. She waved back, smiling. Then she turned around and walked away.
'Johanna, for the love of God…'
Nicholas was muttering to the air. He watched as his sister made her way around the crowd. When she headed for the steps, he finally understood what her errand was.
Nicholas turned his gaze to MacBain. His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts.
The priest craned his neck to watch Johanna, then turned to MacBain and nudged him with his elbow.
Johanna slowed her pace when she neared the steps, for she didn't want the little one to run away before she got to him.
The news that MacBain had a son had filled her with joy and relief. Finally she had her answer to the question that plagued her. MacBain obviously didn't care she was barren because he already had an heir, illegitimate or not.
The guilt she'd been carrying dropped away like a heavy cloak from her shoulders.
MacBain couldn't contain his frown. Damn, he hadn't wanted her to find out about the boy until they were married and she couldn't change her mind. Women were peculiar in their attitudes, he knew, and he was certain he was never going to understand exactly how their minds worked. They seemed to take exception to such odd things. Most, he'd heard, didn't accept mistresses, and some of the wives of the other warriors he knew didn't acknowledge bastards. MacBain had every intention of forcing Johanna to acknowledge his son, but he'd hoped to get her settled in first.
Alex spotted her coming his way and immediately buried his face in his hands. He had skinny knees. They were caked with dirt. When he peeked up to look at her, she saw his eyes. They weren't gray like his father's, but blue.
Johanna paused on the bottom step and spoke to the child. MacBain started to go after his bride, then changed his mind. He folded his arms across his chest and simply waited to see what would happen. He wasn't the only one watching. Silence filled the courtyard as every MacBain and every Maclaurin turned to look.
'Does the boy understand English?' Father MacKechnie asked.
'Some,' MacBain answered. 'She told me you were instructing her in Gaelic. Has she learned enough to converse a bit with Alex?'
The priest shrugged. 'Probably,' he allowed.
Johanna talked to the child for several minutes. Then she reached out her hand to him. Alex jumped to his feet, tripped down the stairs, and put his hand in hers. She leaned down, brushed the hair out of his eyes, adjusted his plaid from drooping over his shoulders, and then pulled him along by her side.
'He understands that,' MacKechnie whispered.
'What does he understand?' Calum asked.
The priest smiled. 'Acceptance.'
MacBain nodded. Johanna reached Nicholas's side and took hold of his arm again. 'I'm ready now,' she announced. 'Alex, go and stand beside your father,' she instructed. 'It is my duty to come to the two of you.'
The little boy nodded. He ran down the length of the path and took his place on his father's left. MacBain glanced down at his son. His expression was contained, and Johanna couldn't tell if he was pleased or annoyed. His gaze stayed on her, but once she started to walk toward him, he unfolded his arms and reached down to touch the top of his son's head.
Nicholas gave her away in marriage. She didn't resist when he placed her hand in MacBain's. He was damned proud of his sister. He knew she was nervous, but she didn't try to cling to his side. She was positioned between the two warriors, with her future husband on her right and her brother on her left. Johanna stood straight, held her head high, and looked straight ahead.
She was dressed in a white ankle-length chainse and matching knee-length bliaut. The square neckline of her wedding attire was embroidered with pale pink and green threads fashioned into the design of dainty rosebuds.
She smelled like roses, too. The scent was faint, yet vastly appealing to MacBain. Father MacKechnie took a small bouquet of flowers from the corner of the altar and handed it to her before hurrying around to the other side to begin the mass.
MacBain kept his gaze on his bride. She was an utterly feminine creature, and God's truth, he didn't know what he was going to do with her. His main worry was that she wouldn't be strong enough to survive such a harsh life. He forced the concern aside. It had become his duty to make certain she survived. He would protect her from danger, and if she needed to be pampered, then by God he would see she was pampered. He didn't have the faintest idea how, but he was an intelligent man. He would find out. He wouldn't let her dirty her hands either or do any backbreaking work, and he would demand she rest each and every day. Taking care of her was the very least he could do in appreciation for the land she'd given him, and surely that was the only reason he was worrying about her comforts now.
The wind blew a strand of hair in her face. She let go of his hand to brush the strand of hair back over her shoulder. It was a dainty, feminine action. The curly mass of gold seemed to float down her back. Her hand shook so hard that the nosegay she held against her waist was rapidly dropping petals.
When she didn't take hold of his hand again, he was so bothered that he grabbed her hand and hauled her up close to his side. Nicholas saw the possessive action and smiled.
The ceremony was going along quite nicely until Father MacKechnie asked her to promise to love, honor, and obey her husband. She considered his request a long minute. Then she shook her head and turned to the groom.
She motioned for him to lean down and stretched up on tiptoe so that she could whisper in his ear.
'I will try to love you, m'lord, and I'll certainly honor you because you'll be my husband, but I don't believe I'll obey you much. I've found that total submissiveness doesn't agree with me.'
She was wringing the petals off the stems of her flowers while she explained her position. She couldn't look him in the eye either but stared at his chin while she waited for his reaction.
MacBain was too astonished by what she'd just said to him to notice how worried she was. He had to force himself not to laugh.
'Are you jesting with me?'
He hadn't whispered his question. Since he wasn't overly concerned about their audience overhearing their discussion, she wasn't going to be concerned either. Her voice was every bit as forceful as his had been when she gave him her answer.
'Jest with you during the middle of our wedding vows? I think not, m'lord. I'm very serious. Those are my conditions. Do you accept them?'
He did laugh then. He simply couldn't help himself. Her burst of courage was short-lived. She felt embarrassed and humiliated, but the issue was too important to let pass.
There was only one course of action left. She straightened her shoulders, jerked her hand away from his, and shoved the bouquet of flowers at him. Then she made a curtsy to the priest, turned around, and walked away.
The message was clear. Still, there were a few Maclaurin soldiers who were slow to catch on.
'Is the lass leaving?' Keith, the commander over the Maclaurin soldiers, whispered his question in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear.
'She's getting away, MacBain,' another called out.
'It appears she is leaving,' Father MacKechnie interjected. 'Did I say something to displease her?'
Nicholas started to go after his sister. MacBain grabbed him by his arm and shook his head at him. He shoved the bouquet at the baron, muttered something under his breath, and then went after his bride.
