Page 1 of A Highland Bride Forgotten
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Is this all there is to a weddin’? I daenae even feel like a wedded lass.
“May yer marriage be as strong as these pillars,a bhobain,” said Aidan, clasping her hand between his palms as though he feared to let her go. His eyes, a mirror to River’s own blue, seemed to search her face for any signs of apprehension, but River would show him none. It was her duty now, at twenty years of age, to wed a proper suitor, bear him heirs, and wash away the stain of shame that burdened the MacFarlane Clan. Aidan, as Laird MacFarlane, did his own part, but there was only so much he could do.
“Yer sister’s a wedded woman,” their mother, Noor, hissed from River’s side. She stood there, much like those pillars that supported O’Douglas Castle, a sturdy shape that showed nothing but strength. “That is hardly a proper way to address her now.”
“Lady O’Douglas,” said Aidan with a flourish of his hand, giving River a mock bow. She had to suppress a laugh—their mother was not known for her tolerance of humor.
“Thank ye, Aidan,” River said, finding her voice again through sheer force of will. A part of her wanted to ask him to stay there or to take her back home, back to Eilean-I-Vow, back to the place she knew so well. Here, everything was strange to her, from the dark, thick tapestries that covered the walls to the swirling, dizzying crowd of clansmen and women who had come to celebrate her wedding. “Will ye write to me?”
“Of course,” said Aiden. “I’ll write to ye every week.”
It was a small comfort, but one River welcomed; a single bright point of familiarity in the dark. With a deep, reluctant breath, she pulled her hand away, only to mourn the loss of Aidan’s grounding touch.
“Maither,” said Aidan, turning to Noor. His voice was colder now, sharper, like the edge of a well-kept knife. “I trust ye will be fine to stay here with River.”
It was not a question, but rather a command, but their mother took no command from others, and both siblings knew it well. Whatever happened now, whatever their mother decided to do, it would burden not only the two of them, but Laird O’Douglas as well—the very man River had only just married.
“I trust ye will keep the clan alive while I’m gone,” said Noor, in a tone not unlike Aidan’s. They had both tried to scrub away everypart of her they had inherited. They had both tried to be their father’s children, but blood knew not of such efforts. Both River and Aidan carried their mother with them, and that cold, sharp voice was her biggest legacy.
“Daenae fash,” said Aidan. “I ken me duty well.”
Noor said nothing in return, once again a silent sentinel by River’s side, as if fearing she would try to run.
It wasn’t altogether an irrational fear.
“River...be well,” said Aidan, and with that, he was gone.
River had never felt so alone. Even surrounded by people as she was, people who danced and sang and made merry in the great hall of Castle O’Douglas, their dresses flashing yellow and green and blue in the edges of her vision, she was as apart from them as she was outside of herself. A strange sensation of floating above her body gripped her and her first instinct was to reach out to her mother for comfort—but what comfort could she offer?
“Ye must do whatever ye can to seduce the Laird,” said her mother in a whisper, right next to her ear. Her words forced River back into her body, back into a hyperawareness of her surroundings. “I daenae care what ye do to succeed. Talk sweetly to him, smile, and bear it. Anythin’ he asks of ye. Do ye understand?”
I didnae ken I’d have to seduce me own husband!
“I—” said River, but managed no further protest, before Noor’s head snapped to the side to stare right into her eyes.
“Ye must bear him heirs. As long as ye have nae bairns, we’re disposable. The only way for ye to take yer rightful place in this clan is by bearin’ him heirs. So ye will do anythin’ it takes.”
A chill ran down River’s spine as her mother gripped her wrist and gave her a warning squeeze. She had heard stories of horror about women in her place. She had heard of noble girls being discarded, sent back to their families if they were lucky enough or killed if they were particularly unlucky. She had heard of noble girls who suffered in the hands of their husbands because of their depraved appetites.
Is he like that too? But he hardly looked at me throughout the whole ceremony…nae lust, nae want…nae even any interest.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Laird O’Douglas appeared right before her, pushing through the crowd of people who parted like flesh under a knife for him.
“Laird O’Douglas,” said her mother with a dignified, shallow bow, “I hope we’re enjoyin’ the festivities.”
Laird O’Douglas towered over both River and her mother. He was a wall of a man—that was the only way River could think of him, like another wall of stone that held up this castle. The yearsof training and battles had forged him into a weapon, his hands broad, his shoulders even broader, his deep brown eyes always searching.
But it was that smile that unnerved River the most. There was something dangerous behind it. There was something sharp to it, like the edge of a sword, and River couldn’t hardly bear to face him fully. For all his charm, for all his chivalry that he showed to everyone else, she could tell there was simply something that wasn’t right about it.
No one else seemed to notice, or if they did, they never spoke of it.
Perhaps I am too vigilant. Perhaps he truly is a good man.
But no matter how many times she told herself those very same words, they never rang true in her mind.
“Och aye, very much,” said Laird O’Douglas, his plush lips once again stretching into a smile under his beard. “But I have come for me bride.”
