Highland Vengeance Page 6

  “Another for you as well?” he asked, rising.

  I chuckled. I had not yet taken a bite.

  When Macbeth looked at my dish, he grinned sheepishly. “I developed a taste for sweets at court, I’m afraid,” he said then went and served himself another piece.

  I inhaled the sweet scent of the cake then took a bite. The Morrigu was right. It did not do to dwell. I needed to make the best of things.

  I motioned to Thora, who looked like she, like Macbeth, was going to die from waiting. I broke off a piece and handed it to her, patting her on the head. She ate the bite whole then looked at me expecting another.

  I chuckled and handed her another piece. “Chew it this time.”

  “Your dog doesn’t seem to care much for me, but at least we have some common ground,” Macbeth said as he watched. “I have many matters I must attend to in the coming weeks. I am afraid I will be very busy. What can I arrange for you? I want you to be comfortable. Shall I ask the other lords to bring their ladies to court? Or do you like music? I could try to find—”

  “No. Nothing like that,” I said, trying not to wince at his suggestions. “I need to rest. When I recover, I will keep myself busy. As Lady of Moray, I will continue my work with my people. I need to make inquiries, check on the welfare of Moray’s people. I know you have left a sentinel at Cawdor, but since the castle is Lulach’s birthright, I will continue to stay involved in the keep’s management.”

  Macbeth paused, as if he was reminding himself of his own words, then nodded. “If there are matters that need my attention, I’m sure you will seek my counsel.”

  In other words, don’t overstep your boundaries. “Of course.”

  “Gruoch, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. I want you to be happy,” he said. Setting down his spoon, he reached out and tepidly took my hand.

  I gazed at him. He was every bit the man I’d seen in my cauldron. My king. He was here in the flesh, yet it was all I could do bring myself to give him a chance. “I can tell you mean it,” I said with small smile.

  “Indeed? How?”

  “Because this is the first time you’ve let go of your spoon.”

  Macbeth laughed.

  I couldn’t help but join him. And at that moment, some of the sorrow that seemed to own me fled from my heart.

  * * *

  True to his word, Macbeth’s manner shifted. I was not a lapdog and would not be treated like one. Macbeth, it seemed, was learning. There were times when I thought his eyebrows might shoot off his forehead when I spoke my mind, but still, he held his tongue.

  Within the month, a rider wearing Malcolm’s colors and insignia arrived at Inverness. I had been passing from the stable where I’d been checking on Kelpie when I saw a commotion. Macbeth and Banquo stood conversing with the messenger who handed Macbeth a sealed scroll.

  Raising the hem of my skirt, I quickly crossed the yard to join them.

  By the time I reached Macbeth, he’d already unrolled the parchment and was reading.

  Banquo met my gaze as I approached. We both stood and waited as Macbeth read. When he was done, he looked up at me.

  “Duncan has been wed to the sister of the Earl of Northumbria.”

  “An alliance with the south,” Banquo said as he thoughtfully stroked his beard.

  I felt like a rock was sinking to the bottom of my stomach. I reached out for the scroll. Macbeth paused a moment then handed it to me.

  The letter, written in Malcolm’s hand, glorified the alliance with Northumbria and bragged about the pageantry of the lavish wedding that had taken place. Then it took a turn.

  “I regret that I will not be there to see you wed my brother’s daughter, Gruoch. I am very pleased with your success in the north thus far. Please know that your mother sends her blessings and happy tidings for your nuptials. With a strong alliance in the south, and the future of the north firmly in your loyal hands, soon we shall have peace in the realm. I look forward to news of your defeat of Thorfinn the Mighty. With the Lady of Moray as your wife, you have a strong grip on the north and will serve as a valuable and loyal supporter of the crown, now and in the future,” I read aloud.

  I looked from Macbeth who seemed truly happy, to Banquo who was frowning visibly.

  “Well, he has certainly outlined his plans for me. But more immediately, we now have his word on our marriage,” Macbeth said. “I shall make arrangements at once.”

  Banquo sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.

  “Banquo?” Macbeth said. “Are you all right?”

  “A chill. I… You must excuse me,” Banquo said, his voice weak. “I’m suddenly not feeling well. Please, excuse me,” he said then turned and headed back into the castle.

  Macbeth and I both turned and watched him go. “I’ll send someone to check on him,” Macbeth said absently then turned to me. “My father kept a small chapel here on the castle grounds. We’ll wed here.”

  I nodded. Once more, I would be married in the shadow of Findelach’s faith. “Very well. And Thorfinn? Malcolm is rather specific on that point.”

  Macbeth laughed. “Come spring, we will go north to meet Thorfinn…so I may introduce my new bride to the brother of my heart. And then, we will begin making plans.”

  “Plans?”

  “For war…against Malcolm.”

  * * *

  Macbeth headed to his council chambers, calling his advisers to attend him, while I went after Banquo.

  I rapped softly on his chamber door.

  “Banquo?” I called. “Can I come in?”

  A few moments later, the latch scraped then the door swung open.

  Banquo motioned for me to enter. He went to his bed where some packs were sitting out. He’d been packing up his belongings.

  “Are you… Are you leaving?” I asked.

  Banquo turned and looked at me, tears clinging to his eyes. “I love you, Cerridwen. I love you. I cannot stay and watch you wed to another man. My heart cannot bear it. I’m going to leave for a little while.”

  I stepped toward him, setting my hand on his cheek. “Where will you go?”

  “To the woods. Somewhere quiet, somewhere away from this place.” He took my hand and pressed it to his lips. “By the old gods, I swear, you will be mine again in the next life. I don’t care what it takes, what promises I must make.”

  Hot tears welled in my eyes. I nodded. “Be careful what you promise away. But yes, in the next life.”

  Banquo reached out and touched my lips. His hand shaking, he pulled it away. “There is a place not far from here that’s sacred to our people. One day, I will take you there.”

  Turning my eyes to the floor, I nodded. A tear rolled down my cheek. I brushed it away.

  “Cerridwen, I do wish you good fortune and happiness. I truly do. It’s just…”

  “I know,” I whispered. I exited and went to my own section of the castle. Rather than going inside my sleeping chamber, I headed downstairs to the small courtyard Macbeth had told me about. There, I found a small patch of land and a single apple tree, a stone bench underneath. It was snowing lightly. I sat on the bench, leaning my back against the trunk of the tree, then wept until I had no more tears left in me.

  Chapter 11

  Three days later, I found myself standing beside Macbeth is a small stone chapel attended by strangers. Macbeth shifted nervously. He smelled of soap and incense. He kept giving me sidelong glances, eyeing me uncertainly. I took deep breaths and reminded myself to stay calm. I could not help but compare this wedding with my last. How handsome Gillacoemgain had looked in his tartan. How comical Eochaid and Thora had been. There had been joy there. Love, even. And before that, I’d wed Banquo under the eyes of the gods. I had to suppress a laugh—at least, so I did not cry—that I was not yet thirty and was already on my third marriage.

  I cast a quick glance behind me. Aside from Ute and Macbeth, I knew no one. I didn’t know what Banquo had told Macbeth about why he’d left, but true to hi
s word, he had disappeared. Wherever Banquo was, I was sure he was feeling far happier than me—well, maybe.

  I spent the mass, which was spoken entirely in Latin, feeling very glad my face was hidden from view by the heavy veil that had been part of my wedding trousseau. At least they wouldn’t see me rolling my eyes and vacillating from annoyance to sorrow.

  I glanced down at my gown. The dress was made of satin, trimmed with white fox fur, and embroidered with small pearls. The elaborate gown had been sent to me by the wife of the Thane of Ross, who was somewhere in attendance. She was an elderly lady, I was told, of good repute.

  Father Lawrence said his final prayers. “And may the Lord bless this union.”

  All gods are one god, and all goddesses one goddess. And together, they are one, Epona used to say. I tried to stay mindful of her words as the priest made the sign of the cross over me again and again. After all, I had no issue with the White Christ, just some of his followers.

  “Amen,” the priest finally intoned.

  “Amen,” Macbeth repeated then turned and lifted my veil.

  I sucked in a breath then smiled at my new husband.

  Macbeth leaned toward me, setting a polite kiss on my lips, then turned to the assembled crowd who clapped.

  At that, the wedding party progressed to the feasting hall, where an elaborate winter feast had been laid out. Roasted roots, baked breads, a deer, and a hog had all been roasted to celebrate the nuptials. Musicians played the bagpipes, and the lords and ladies drank wine and chatted merrily. Macbeth at I were seated at a table at the front of the room. An elaborate feast had been spread out before us.

  “Lady Macbeth,” an elderly man called as he approached.

  Lady Macbeth. Lady Macbeth? The title left a sour taste in my mouth.

  “Thane,” Macbeth called cheerfully. “Let me introduce you to my wife. Gruoch, this is the Thane of Ross.”

  “My lord,” I said with a curtsey.

  “Word of your beauty has spread far and wide, my lady. And of your wisdom. I was told you aided in the rule of Moray and ruled well,” Ross said.

  “I did my best, my lord.”

  “As one expects from Boite’s daughter. May I introduce my wife, Eleanor, Lady Ross.”

  I curtsied deeply to her. “My lady, I’m told it’s you I must thank for this fine gown.”

  Lady Ross was a wide woman with an even wider smile. She nodded to me. “I had intended it for my granddaughter, who went off and got married wearing some other gown. She had the audacity to tell me no thank you. Can you imagine my shock? The finest dressmaker in Scotland made the gown you’re wearing, Lady Macbeth. When I heard you and Lord Macbeth were set to wed, I thought to myself, the girl has no family and no time to find something proper to wear for a woman of her standing. Why don’t I send her the dress? I can’t wait to tell my daughter, who married a lesser lord of a house you’ve probably never heard of, that the gown she snubbed was good enough for the Lady of Moray, niece of the king! That will teach that ungrateful girl. Regardless, it fits you well and you look so lovely.”

  When Lady Ross finally came up for a breath, I took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Many thanks to you. As you said, my family is far from me. It was too difficult for my aunt, Lady Madelaine, to travel so far north in the winter weather. Your generosity means so much to me.”

  Macbeth shifted. “I am sorry the Thane of Fife and Lady Madelaine were unable to come.”

  There had actually been no conversation between us about asking Madelaine to come at all. It seemed to me that in his haste to seal his hold on the north, Macbeth had forgotten Madelaine entirely. Now it seemed that the gown, which I thought Macbeth had found for me, had been Lady Ross’s idea entirely. Macbeth was certainly no Gillacoemgain.

  “Fife is too old and too fat to ride this far north in the snow,” The Thane of Ross said with a laugh which Macbeth and his wife both joined.

  “Don’t they make a handsome couple? Just look at them. Raven-headed, each one. Both with blue eyes—”

  “Lady Gruoch’s eyes are more lavender colored, actually,” Macbeth said, turning to me. “A mix of blue and purple.”

  “Oh, indeed!” Lady Ross said with a laugh. “Lovers, staring like mooncalves into one another’s eyes. Do you remember when we were like that, Ross?” she asked her husband.

  The thane shifted, seeming to think. “No. No, I don’t.”

  “Me either,” Lady Ross said then laughed loudly. “Come, old man. Let’s let these two lovers sit and stare at one another while we go find something else to eat,” she said and then curtsied to me.

  The thane bowed, and the pair left us.

  “Your eyes… I remembered that violet color well. I always thought that if I did not know your face, I would know your eyes,” Macbeth said.

  I smiled at him. I then took his plate and slid a slice of currant cake, a spoon full of pudding, and two honey oat biscuits thereon. I set the plate in front of my new husband.

  Tepidly, Macbeth reached out and touched my hand. “Thank you, wife.”

  “You’re welcome, husband.”

  Macbeth smiled.

  I lifted my goblet of wine and took a sip, hiding the confused feelings that painted my face. I had to try. What else could I do?

  * * *

  Once the revelers had quieted, the bard starting warbling the wedding song, a cue that it was time for the bride and groom to depart for their marriage chamber. Taking my hand, Macbeth led me from the feasting hall to the stairs. The revelers followed, calling to us, cheering and offering their blessings. Hand in hand, we went upstairs.

  “Gruoch,” Macbeth said carefully as we neared my chamber door. “Lulach is barely two months old. I was advised that you may not be able to…”

  My stomach lurched. The hard ride north in the wake of Gillacoemgain’s death had wounded me. In truth, I was not ready to take a man. Neither in body nor in spirit.

  “You are advised rightly. I cannot yet consummate the marriage. But…you can come in all the same and…stay.” I forced the last words out of my mouth.

  Macbeth smiled softly then followed me inside.

  Ute and Lulach waited in the outer chamber. Thora lay sleeping in front of the fire.

  “Shall I take Lulach to my chamber for a time, my lady?” Ute asked, her eyes downcast. I noticed the red on her cheeks.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Come on, Thora,” she said, calling to my dog who followed reluctantly.

  Taking Macbeth by the hand, I led him to my inner bedchamber. Ute had lit candles all around the room. I smelled the scent of new, sweet straw. The linens on my bed were fresh. The room was warm, the fire burning cheerfully. A decanter of wine was sitting on the table near the hearth.

  “If you’re tired…” Macbeth began but stopped when I took his hands.

  I gazed into his blue eyes. There was a reason the Goddess had allowed me to walk between the worlds to this man. There was a reason Andraste had shown this man to me in the cauldron. Even if my heart was not yet ready to love him, I had to have faith.

  I leaned in and pressed my lips against his.

  His lips were soft and warm, the lingering taste of sweets spicing his mouth. At first, he seemed to hesitate, but a moment later, he fell into the kiss. Free of his reservations, Macbeth’s passion surprised me. His hands roved everywhere, feeling every curve of my body. Before I was even aware of what was happening, he had loosened the fastens of my dress and was slipping it off. I was rather surprised at his deft hands. It felt like it had taken Ute forever to lace up the gown. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a pale but muscular chest. He then slid off his pants and stood naked before me. He lifted my thin chemise then pulled off my undergarments until I stood naked before him.

  He lifted me and lay me on the bed. Crawling into the bed beside me, his hands moved across my breasts. Still full of milk, they were nearly twice their normal size. Macbeth kissed my mouth and neck, his mouth drifting down to my body to
my belly button where he stopped. He inhaled deeply, mastering himself, his eyes glancing over my body and down to the downy hair between my legs. I was not ready. I had told him.

  Once more, he pressed his mouth to mine.

  I touched him gently, feeling his back, his chest. He was breathing hard.

  “I know I cannot have you as I wish. That will come in time. But would you… Would you pleasure me?” he whispered, gently taking my hand and placing it on his hard cock.

  I nodded.

  Macbeth lay back then, touching my hair gently as I lay a trail of kisses down his chest, below his waist, where he waited, hard and erect. I pushed all thoughts from my mind. I focused on the moment. This was my husband now, my life now. It was right that I should try to give pleasure to my new husband.

  He quickly found release. Thereafter, I lay in his arms once more while he set soft kisses on my head. My mind was screaming protests, but I closed the door on it, shutting out the hundred versions of me, all of which had a different complaint. I felt like I might go mad if I listened to them all. I lay my head on Macbeth’s chest, listening to the beating of his heart. After a few minutes, he rose and poured us both a glass of wine.

  He handed a goblet to me.

  Standing there in the nude, he drank one goblet of wine then another. He stared off toward the window as if lost in thought. When he polished off the second cup, he picked up his clothes and started getting dressed.

  “You can stay if you wish,” I said. Perhaps that had not been the way husbands and wives had lived at Malcolm’s court, but in my mind, a husband and wife should share a bed. I was about to say so when Macbeth replied.

  “No, that’s all right. Lulach will need you soon. When you’re… recovered, perhaps.”

  My stomach lurched. Was he angry that I could not give him my body? I had done what I could to please him. I thought he had understood.