Highland Vengeance

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 his 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.

“Macbeth?” I said, sitting up. My heart beat hard. I was doing everything I could to bridge the gap between us, but my physical state was not something I could easily fix. He surely understood that, didn’t he? He’d said as much.

Macbeth buttoned up his doublet then pulled on his boots. “Rest, Gruoch. When you have recovered from the birth of my uncle’s son, we’ll work on making a child of our own and truly enjoy one another’s bodies. It’s not your fault. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said and then left.

Sitting naked and alone, I stared at the closed door behind him.

My head felt like it was spinning.

What had just happened?

My legs shaking, I rose and dressed in my sleeping gown. I felt too ashamed to go tell Ute to return with Lulach. I lay back down on the bed and stared into the fire. Before long, I felt a tear slide down my cheek. While I was trying to convince myself that it would be okay to love him, Macbeth had been trying to convince himself it was okay to marry the widow of Gillacoemgain. All his life he’d been waiting for me, waiting to marry, and on his wedding night, he couldn’t make love to his wife because her body was still recovering from giving birth to another man’s child.

I rose, slipped on a heavy robe and a pair of boots. Taking a lantern, I headed out of my chambers and down the halls to Macbeth’s wing of the castle. A guard was stationed outside Macbeth’s door.

“Is Lord Macbeth within?” I asked the guard.

The man, who I did not know, would not meet my eye. “Sleeping, my lady.”

I stood there a moment and waited.

The guard didn’t move.

I realized then that the guard had no intentions of moving. He had already given me an answer. Macbeth was sleeping. He would not be disturbed.

“Very well. Goodnight,” I said then turned to go.

The man nodded but said nothing.

As I was walking away, I heard a sound from nearby. Somewhere close, I heard the sound of a man’s voice and a woman’s soft laughter.

I stopped and looked around, my eyes drifting to the courtyard below. There were several people milling about. Everyone below, full of wine and food, seemed merry. Sighing, I cast a glance back at Macbeth’s chamber door then returned to my own wing of the castle.

Removing my robe and setting aside the lantern, I knocked on Ute’s door.

“My lady,” Ute said in surprise.

“I’ll take Lulach, now,” I said. I reached down and gently picked took Lulach from the cradle Ute kept in her room. “Goodnight.”

Ute motioned like she would say something but stopped herself.

Holding Lulach against my chest, I headed back to my own chamber. Thora followed along behind us. I lay Lulach, who was sleeping, in his cradle. I then turned and pulled all the new linens off my freshly-made bed. I bundled the new blankets into a heap then, unlocking the balcony door, went outside and threw the blankets off the balcony. A stiff winter wind tugged at the rich draping, pulling the linens away and into the darkness.

In a tree by the river, silhouetted by the moon, I saw a raven perched on the top branch. It cawed loudly.

My hands shook. Embarrassment, rage, and frustration rolled over me. I felt overwhelmed.

I glanced once more at the landscape. Moonbeams shone down on the countryside. The river’s waters shimmered silver in the moonlight. I turned to head back inside but stopped when I saw a figure standing by the water.

The shade of Gillacoemgain stood at the water’s edge.

In his specter form, he lifted a hand in greeting, but the expression on his face was pained.

“Gillacoemgain,” I whispered.

He turned then disappeared back into the otherworld.

I went back inside. Dropping down on the bare straw, my tears came readily. I wept and wept, my poor soul awash with confused feelings. Thora crept up on the bed beside me, whimpered, then lay her head on my back. Overwhelmed, I cried myself to sleep. Only the soft sound of Lulach’s cries woke me late into the night.

Otherwise, I was utterly alone.