“Ye are a lovely bride,” murmured Serilda as she affixed another ribbon to Jennet’s thick hair.
“’Tis the gown, Lady Gillard. I have ne’er worn such beautiful clothes.”
“A gown is only as lovely as the woman who wears it. Now”—she linked her arm with Jennet’s—“let us try walking a wee bit more. I think ye havenae had a train on your dress before.”
“Nay.” Jennet began to walk around the room with Serilda, gaining confidence. “They would have been a hazard for me most of the time.”
“Aye, ye have been caught in the heart of this cursed war a great deal. Weel, we have yet to suffer much from the war at Dubheilrig. Ye will be allowed some peace here.”
“That will be verra nice. ’Twould be even better,” she muttered, “if all of Scotland could enjoy peace.”
“We all pray to God that He will grant us such a precious gift. Jennet,” Serilda began, but Katherine suddenly burst into the room, ending her question before she could begin it.
“Everyone is waiting for the wedding to begin,” Katherine announced, her tone sharp.
Serilda frowned and Jennet, surmising that she meant to reprimand her daughter, quickly replied, “We will begin the ride to the church in but a few moments. Ye can tell Ranald we willnae make him wait much longer.”
“Aye, I will tell him.”
As soon as Katherine left, shutting the door behind her with a distinct snap, Serilda sighed and shook her head. “I am verra sorry, Jennet. I dinnae ken what ails the woman. She was a sweet child.”
“’Tis no matter.”
“Nay, ’tis a problem I mean to solve. In truth, I believe I ken what gnaws at her. Her husband was riding with Hacon’s men when he met his death. She ne’er blamed Hacon for it, yet at times I sense a . . . weel, a resentment. I believe that is what sours her mood now. She is a widow still while Hacon is to be wed.”
“Aye, that could weel be the way of it.” Jennet was certain Katherine also resented the time and attention Lady Serilda gave her, but she hoped some of that would ease once she and Hacon went to live in the tower house.
“I shall ignore the problem for a few days. Her ill humors usually pass. Howbeit, if she continues to be so poor mannered to you, Ishallspeak to her.”
“I dinnae wish to cause any disharmony.”
“Ye dinnae. Katherine does.” Taking Jennet’s hand, Serilda led her to the door. “We best be on our way or my son shall come to fetch you. Hacon has many virtues, but patience was ne’er one of them.”
Again, Hacon straightened the wide sleeves of his tunic and scowled toward the manse. He felt as if he had been waiting in front of the chapel for hours. Just as he was about to walk back to see what was causing the delay, he saw Jennet and his mother emerge through the door. Despite the distance that separated them, he could tell that Jennet was beautiful.
“Ah, look at her, Dugald. Am I not a most fortunate mon?”
Glancing toward Jennet as she was helped onto the pony’s back, Dugald nervously tugged at his finery. “Aye, ye are. Ye may have been able to wed a lass of higher birth and greater fortune, but this one is your mate. She will give you strong sons and ever stand at your side.”
Looking at his cousin with some surprise, Hacon asked, “Do ye truly mean those words?”
“Aye. I didnae just cough up what ye wished to hear. She willnae be a restful wife, but ye wouldnae be happy with any other. And what I believe is best of all, she can be the fine lady riding toward you now, but she can also endure a hard life. Ye may not always enjoy the good fortune ye do now.”
“True, but I mean to cling tightly to what I have. Nay, no need to say more.” He held up his hand to halt Dugald’s words. “I ken how easily it can all be lost. I but felt a need to voice that vow. My Jennet has earned fine gowns and a strong lodging that she can feel safe in.”
When Ranald halted the pony carrying Jennet in front of the chapel, Hacon slowly approached her. He did not think he had ever seen a lovelier woman. The colors of her gown made her eyes look an even richer green. A hundred sweet, flattering words crowded his tongue, but as he helped her down, he was unable to say any of them. Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles, then led her to the chapel.
Jennet felt a knot begin to form in her stomach. She had always considered Hacon an extraordinarily handsome man, but dressed in his rich blue finery he was overwhelming. While his clothes were all that were fashionable, they lacked excessive decorative touches. His soft low boots with the button fastenings did have a pointed toe, but it was not extended. His dark blue hose was well-fitted but not particolored, as was increasingly popular. There were dagged edges on his open-sided overtunic, but they were softly cut. His undertunic was short. Its tight, long sleeves hugged his strong forearms in a flattering way. He wore no liripipe but a small hat with a shallow brim. Any rich courtier could approve Hacon’s attire, yet he was far more subtle in his plumage. He was so elegant Jennet knew he would put many a court peacock to shame.
All of which made her feel suddenly inadequate. He could walk freely and proudly in any world, from a poor shepherd’s bothy to the finest royal court. She was not sure she could do the same and felt a full renewal of her nervousness.
As Hacon stepped into the chapel, he took off his hat and handed it to Dugald, then looked at Jennet. “Come now, my wee plunder, this willnae be so verra hard.”
She managed a smile for him and concentrated on the marriage ceremony itself. As they knelt before the plump priest, it became necessary to fix all her attention upon repeating the vows. She was glad of it, knowing that now, at the altar and before all Hacon’s friends and kinsmen, was not the time to turn cowardly.
When the ceremony ended and Hacon kissed her, Jennet felt a brief desire to collapse. The idea of herself sprawled on the chapel floor made such a ludicrous picture in her mind that she was able to smile with ease as they walked into the fresh air, the congratulations of their friends and Hacon’s family enfolding them. She spared an extra smile for Elizabeth, then blushed over her friend’s somewhat ribald wishes for a lengthy and rowdy wedding night.
They walked back to the manse, the festive mood spreading. It was a moment before Jennet realized that a man was standing next to the studded doors. Her steps faltered as she slowly recognized that slim figure. With a glad cry she hiked up her skirts and raced toward him, then flung herself into his readily opened arms.
