Griffin’s smug expression soured, and he hurried away.
Jasper left the tavern a short time later, with his mind reeling. It seemed the Warden did not forgive those who crossed him. And Alec Carstairs had paid the ultimate price for failing to murder him. But why was he such a prize target, and so too, Bannerman and Strachan? They were powerful, aye, and they stood their ground. But others resisted the Warden’s authority, richer men than he and just as formidable.
An icy drizzle began to fall, chilling his bones. It would do no good to dwell on it, and he did not want to think of Sir Henry Harclaw. Soon, he would be at Kransmuir, where he intended to sink between Rowenna’s warm, welcoming thighs and work hard all night to produce an heir. He smiled to himself at all the wickedness he would unleash on her this night, heartened by the knowledge that Rowenna would welcome every sinful bit of it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rowenna’s heart broke a little at the sight of Maeve standing before the altar with a young man she had just laid eyes on, pledging to be his forever. The lass’s hands shook as they clutched her bouquet of heather, and her lip trembled, tears threatening to spill down her white dress. Rowenna winced inside at the casual cruelty of the garment Joan had chosen for her daughter.
Incensed at Maeve shaming herself and having to be joined to the Macaulays, Joan had picked it out as a mockery of purity. And everyone in the kirk knew the bride would be no virgin on her wedding night, though there were few witnesses to her wedding. It was a humiliation for Maeve and a slap in the face for the Macaulays. It angered Rowenna beyond measure. And it was small comfort to know that Maeve would soon be out of her mother’s clutches, for she would soon be in another’s.
Rowenna took a long, hard look at Seamus Macaulay. He had come to Kransmuir with his uncle, Griffin, who seemed in a hurry to get the wedding over with. Seamus had a rugged appeal, being tall and muscular and blessed with a handsome face. Yet as he stood at the altar, his face was grim and pale, and his hands clutched together as if in a death grip. Would Seamus force himself on Maeve on his wedding night? Would he hurt and humiliate her?
The priest finished the vows and bid Seamus kiss his bride. The young man’s smile to Maeve was fleeting, and he bent and pressed his lips to hers quickly and stepped back.
‘There is more warmth in this kirk than in that kiss,’ Rowenna hissed at Jasper.
‘What do you expect? They are strangers,’ he whispered. ‘It is the best we can hope for, and at least my sister will not be shamed. She will have the protection of marriage. We were strangers when we came together, and look at us now?’ Jasper squeezed her hand, but it was not reassuring.
Maeve’s wedding was a subdued affair and, to Rowenna, rather pitiful. There was no big celebration, no shouting the news around the glens and towns, no pride in it. The couple were reluctant strangers, shackled together like oxen to the plough.
‘Everyone will know when the bairn comes, Jasper. Maeve was about to marry Carstairs just a few weeks ago.
‘And now that he is gone, she has found another.’
‘Folk will wonder about the haste of this patched-up marriage.’
‘Then let them wonder. I must pretend to be happy about this sham, as must you.’ Jasper kissed her hand and moved away to talk to Griffin Macaulay, a most ill-favoured man with the look of a footpad about him. Maeve and Seamus had leapt apart after the kiss, and Seamus stood alone and forgotten by his uncle, staring up at the stained glass showing Christ’s crucifixion. Was this an equivalent torture for him, or was he grasping at the wealth and land offered as a bribe to go through with the wedding?
Rowenna took a deep breath. He had his back to her, so she tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around.
‘Lady Glendenning,’ he said, smiling and bowing chivalrously, eyes darting to his uncle and back to her. Seamus’ hair wascropped rather clumsily, and his face was red as if it had been scrubbed raw. The man smelled of soap and resentment.
‘So, Seamus. How are you?’
‘I am well, Lady, I thank you. And I am a little taken aback by how bonnie is my new wife,’ he said with nervous sincerity, which she had not been expecting.
‘You are young, so this wedding must be daunting.’
‘I am old enough to do my duty. I can assure you of that.’
‘Ah, your duty, aye. Your duty is to be a good husband to Maeve, to care for and protect her, as you have sworn to do.
‘And I intend to honour those vows.’
‘And the bairn she carries, what of that?
His jaw worked, and his blush deepened. Clearly, his pride railed at the disgrace of having a bride who was not pure, and he didn’t like being confronted about it. Then Seamus surprised her. ‘Do you think me heartless, Lady Glendenning? Do you think I would spurn a bairn or treat it cruelly?’
‘I do not know you, so how can I tell?’
‘You cannot.’
‘You seem angry and a little cold to Maeve.’
‘I am as I must be,’ he said, squaring his shoulders and showing the belligerence of a young man who has had his pride pricked. ‘I am not a low brute just because my name is Macaulay.’
‘So you want to better yourself, I take it. I am sure Maeve’s dowry will help with that.’
