Page 64 of Highland Fire

“Are the two of you just going to stand there and talk?” demanded Mungan. “Ye havenae changed your mind, have ye?”

“Nay, Mungan,” Tavig replied, grasping Moira by the hand again and tugging her closer to the priest. “We but waited for the priest to be ready.” He bowed slightly to the round-faced, balding priest. “If ye are ready to begin, we are at your service.”

As the priest began the ceremony, Moira battled a sudden panic. She wanted to be married to Tavig. She wanted to live a normal life with him. She wanted to bear his children. And none of that was possible. Tavig kept saying they were destined to be together, but Moira was equally certain that together they were doomed. Kneeling before the priest, she was being tempted with all she needed and desired, but she would only be able to hold on to it for a little while. If this was why fate had thrust her and Tavig together, then fate was a cruel mistress. A bitter laugh echoed inside of her head. By giving her a skill she could use to do good, but one that aroused only fear, Lady Fate had already revealed her cruelty.

The priest declared them man and wife. Before Tavig gently took her into his arms, Moira caught a quick glimpse of Una being heartily kissed by Mungan as his men cheered. Despite the hoots of the men, she readily returned Tavig’s kiss. She decided that for just a little while, she would practice a little self-deception. For just a little while, she would pretend that her marriage to Tavig was real and would survive. An embarrassed cough from the priest brought her back to an awareness of her surroundings. Blushing deeply, she wriggled out of Tavig’s hold.

“And now we can have ourselves a feast,” announced Mungan even as he tugged Una over to the linen-draped, food-ladened table, amiably waving the priest over to join them.

“I wouldnae have thought ye had enough time to prepare a feast,” said Tavig as he sat on Mungan’s left, pulling Moira down by his side.

“I didnae. This feast was already prepared,” replied Mungan as the pages filled everyone’s tankard with ale.

“Ye didnae ken there was to be a wedding.”

“Nay, but I did ken we would be riding off to do battle with Iver soon. Verra soon. Once my men return and tell us all they have discovered, we will make our battle plans and ride to Drumdearg. There will be no time to set out a feast then, and I like my men to have a hearty round of gluttony ere they ride off to fight. So this fine array of food was already being prepared. ’Tis just that now we have more to celebrate than the imminent demise of our treacherous cousin.” He glanced around at his men-at-arms, who were loudly consuming large quantities of food and ale. “Feasting now will also insure that the men arenae suffering from such greed when we ride to Drumdearg.”

Tavig laughed, then turned all his attention to Moira. She reveled in being his sole interest throughout the meal. As they playfully fed each other, she decided it was not difficult to cast aside her concerns and fears for a time. She had earned a bit of happiness even if it was stolen. Deluding herself for a few days would not make her forget why she had to leave Tavig or make the pain of leaving him any greater.

It was not long before Mungan and Tavig made it clear it was time to begin the wedding night. To Moira’s surprise, Una took her by the hand and pulled her out of the great hall. They both blushed and giggled over the remarks the men made. Moira knew those remarks could get a lot rougher after they were gone.

“I am not sure why we are indulging in this wee show of ceremony, Una,” Moira said as they went up the stairs. “’Tisnae as if we shall be doing anything different tonight or sleeping in a different bed. We have all been lovers right up until we stood there saying the vows, and all ken it.”

“’Tis part of the game, Cousin.” Una grinned at Moira as she dragged her into her chambers. “I also wished to get ye alone for just a moment.” She pointed toward Moira’s bed. “After all, if ye waited until Tavig brought ye up here ye would ne’er get a chance to wear this.”

A gasp of delight escaped Moira when she saw the nightgown spread out on the bed. She hurried over to pick up the white lace-trimmed gown. Afraid it would not be the right size, she warily held it up against herself. She gave a sigh of relief and pleasure when she found it was only a little large.

“Oh, Una, where did ye get it?”

“Weel, once I kenned we were to be wedded to our chosen men, I spoke to the women here. I was certain there had to have been other weelborn ladies who had lived here. Even Mungan had to have had a mother.” She briefly grinned when Moira giggled. “Just before I came to help ye tie the ribbons in your hair, one of the maids brought this to me. It was Mungan’s mother’s.”

Moira could not resist one long wide-eyed look at the small nightgown. “Did she die in childbirth?” She smiled a little crookedly when Una giggled. “’Tis just hard to imagine a woman nearly as tiny as I am bearing a child who could reach Mungan’s impressive size.”

“She bore five sons and one daughter ere she died. All are still alive. I havenae met them, but Mungan insists that his brothers are akin in size to him and that his sister is a big, healthy lass.”

“How odd. He willnae mind me wearing this?”

“Nay. His mother’s things were put aside for one of the son’s wives to use if they wished to or had a need. I tried to find ye a gown, but most of them have disappeared. Mayhap they were taken to be made into other things. This was still there, though. Weel, I had best hurry to my own chambers. I want to be ready for Mungan.”

“Una, do ye truly love the mon?”

“Aye, I thought ye kenned it.”

“I did, but then I realized I had never heard ye say it. For a brief moment I feared ye were marrying him for—weel—simply because he doesnae beat you.”

“Oh, there is that, and ’tis what first made me soften toward him. It took me some time to ken what I was doing, but one day I realized that I had been pushing the mon, testing him. Since the moment he grabbed me, I tried to make him hit me. I did everything I kenned would have made my father strike me or punish me, and Mungan ne’er touched me. He bellowed a lot, but if I even looked as if I expected him to hit me, he was insulted, even hurt.”

“Aye, Tavig is the same.”

“That is when I started to fall in love with the man. Now, I must go. I wish to be prepared before he comes to our chambers.”

The moment Una was gone, Moira began to get undressed. Despite having had a bath earlier, she thoroughly washed herself before carefully donning the nightgown. She smoothed her hands over the soft material and lightly fingered the delicate lace. She had never worn anything so finely made or so beautiful. It was odd, she mused, how a piece of clothing could make such a difference. She and Tavig had been lovers for over a week, yet simply by donning the beautiful nightgown, she felt as if this night would now be special.

Tavig subtly straightened his shoulders before entering his bedchamber. He hated the feeling that Moira did not consider their marriage final, their vows binding. He had detested promising her he would let her go if and when she decided it was necessary. But, worst of all, he had hated speaking that promise knowing he did not intend to keep it. He had lied to Moira and that pained him. It also made him feel uncomfortably guilty. Tavig wanted to be certain none of those feelings would be revealed in his face when he spoke to Moira.

He caught his breath as he stepped into the room and saw Moira standing by their bed. She looked beautiful, he decided, as he shut and secured the door. Her smile was a shy one, a light blush tinting her cheeks. Her thick, bright hair hung in long ribbon-decorated waves almost to her hips. The white lacy nightgown was a little big for her, pooling slightly around her tiny feet and slipping down to reveal one pale shoulder. The light from the fire and the candles shone through the thin material, revealing each slim, tempting curve. He inwardly grinned, certain that Moira was unaware of that.

“Ye look verra bonnie, Moira. So bonnie I cannae think of anything clever and flattering to say.” He smiled when she blushed even more, nervously plucking at the lace on her sleeves.