Betrayed (15 page)

Krayne’s gaze kept returning to that spot, as well. He’d sent a serving woman up with one of his mother’s old gowns and instructions to assist his bride-to-be. Every Johnstone and McAllister readily available had been summoned to the hall to witness his marriage, and yet it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Wamphray Castle was in shock.

And his bride-to-be was tardy.

Aye, tardy…or she’d attempted another foolhardy escape. His soft curse in the unnaturally quiet hall attracted every eye. Dismissing the interest with a scowl, Krayne set a determined march for Alexander and Adam and the stairway behind them. He knew better than to ignore his instincts, and they’d been telling him something was wrong ever since she’d changed her mind so quickly and agreed to marry him.

Without a word of apology, he pushed his way between the two men and started up the stairs.

“Krayne…?”

“I’ll be back,” he assured Alexander over his shoulder. He’d be back, and so would Amber. Bringing her back had been a tiresome occupation up ’til now, and he vowed that was one of the many things that would end once they were wed. He rounded the bend at the first floor, and his legs numbed.

Her hair was freshly washed and brushed to a healthy raven shine, tumbling freely down her back and over her shoulders to fall just short of her waist. Her cheeks were flushed, her lashes lowered, that stubborn chin dipped low as she fought the rustle of silk that threatened to trip her as she came down the stairs. The silk gown was older than Amber herself, yet little worn, as the brilliant ruby colour gave testament to. The delicately spun fabric graced her curves without clinging, enhancing every dip and rise with an allure that dried his mouth and swelled his tongue.

She glanced up, saw him and tripped, only to regain her balance before he reached her. He liked to think he, and not the gown, was responsible for that last misstep, damned if he’d be the only one suffering from this inconvenient malaise.

“I’m late.” She stated the obvious.

He couldn’t say anything if his life depended on it.

“’Twas the gown,” she continued, not moving from her step, only two above him. “The serving woman you sent hoped to take the hem up, but I assured her that I’d miss my own wedding if we tarried any longer.”

Krayne worked his jaw loose before saying, “Ye look beautiful.”

She blushed.

Krayne closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the impulse to forgo the wedding ceremony and simply swoop her straight into his arms and carry her upstairs. And then he growled, for he remembered that there would be no bedding tonight. Not for many nights.

Amber descended the step between them and placed her hand on his arm. “Don’t fret so. No penance lasts forever.”

A steel glint covered his grey gaze and Amber smiled to cover the slip of her tongue. She dare not rouse his suspicions before he set sail. “Your mood rocks back and forth like Nodding Ned on a blistering night. Come, I’ve kept everyone waiting long enough.”

As they descended, her gaze kept returning to the man at her side. He cast a magnificent figure in a fine white shirt beneath a plaid of bold blue and yellow. His jaw was once more clean-shaven and rugged, his cheeks carved to a hollow that echoed potent masculinity.

Her composure wavered long before they came upon the silent crowd in the great hall. Round, narrow, creamy and mottled, every face, young and old, wore a stiff, unforgiving expression.

How could she ever be mistress here?

They hated her by mere fact of her name.

Amber chided herself at the ludicrous worry. What matter what they thought of her? She had no intention of being mistress of this castle or its people.

“Are ye ready?” Krayne asked at her side.

She nodded, then spoke when he tugged at her arm. “I’m not sure how ’tis done in Scotland, but shouldn’t you go first and wait at the altar?”

Krayne’s grin spread through her. “I dinna care how it’s done anywhere in the world, we’ll do this our way.”

Such arrogant words. Yet, they did something funny and warm inside her belly. Her gaze went out to the hall once more and found her uncle. He was staring at her with a leering grin. He seemed unaccountably pleased with himself. A shiver prickled her spine. At once, she was happy to do it any way at all.

The crowd parted as Krayne led her to the altar. She passed many faces, some vaguely familiar and others more so. She stumbled when she spied Gayle, easily recognisable for her golden tresses. The woman was smiling softly, eyes tawny with warmth and fixed on Krayne. Her insides pinched and her step faltered. She’d not given Krayne’s leman a single thought. But he
would
give Gayle up, would he not?

She dipped her head to hide suddenly glistening eyes as Krayne steadied her without breaking his stride. Why did she keep forgetting that none of this was real? She may be marrying Krayne today, but she’d never be his wife.

The priest was an elderly man, the hair peeking from his cowl shot through with white. Only slightly taller than herself and nearly as light of frame, his face was sharp and harried, but he looked upon her with kind blue eyes.

The ceremony proceeded with swift and simple efficiency. The vows were said, the blessing bestowed. Amber’s mind and heart got stuck on the first line of Krayne’s vow, and everything else followed in a blur. He sounded so sincere. To be cherished, held and protected by a man such as Krayne could make a woman truly content.

She was pulled from her regretful longings when Krayne took her hand in his. His warmth and strength enfolded her fingers, and then spread through her entire body. She raised her eyes to his, and his smile fed into the silvery gaze that beheld her as he slowly slid the ring onto her finger.

’Twas in that moment that Amber truly understood the bond of marriage and what might have been hers, had circumstances been different, had Krayne loved her, had this union not been forced by duty and desperation and marred by events of last night and lies of the morning after.

At the priest’s consent, Krayne’s lips brushed hers. He pulled away before Amber even realised that was to be the kiss to seal their union. So fleeting, ’twas almost a prediction of the marriage itself.

As Krayne swept her about to face the crowded hall, he raised their linked hands up high and Amber got her first look at the wedding ring adorning her finger. The delicate artwork of tiny, complicated roses was embedded with chipped emeralds and rubies. It was beautiful and ancient, she could almost sense the history trapped within the petals.

“I give ta ye my lady wife.” Krayne’s voice carried clearly. Naught but silence had reigned since all had been summoned and told the reason why. “As she is precious ta me, so she is precious ta ye. Wamphray has long been without a mistress. I claim this day blessed and give thanks ta God fer the reason ta rejoice.”

At that, servers rushed through the hall, distributing silver goblets to the more important guests and clay mugs to the rest, all filled with the finest blend of red wine from Burgundy. Krayne received a gold goblet to share with his bride. He sipped deep, then offered the goblet to her, turning it so that her lips touched the moist impression his had left behind.

“There wasna ample warning ta prepare a wedding feast,” Krayne whispered close to her ear, “yet I wager Brayan McAllister has put together a spread of sorts.”

Amber merely nodded, the thought of food curdling her stomach.
As she is precious ta me, so she is precious ta ye.
Those words rumbled through her veins and bound around her heart, squeezing out the lies and deceit until she could no longer ignore them. By God, what was she doing?

“Come greet yer new family,” Krayne said, his hand going to the small of her back to guide her with gentle encouragement.

Amber smiled weakly. She had to pull herself together. Remember where this had all started. Krayne’s share in all this guilt and responsibility was much greater than hers. She braced her shoulders and nudged her chin up to look him in the eye. “They hate me.”

“They’ll learn ta love ye.”

A full hour later, Amber’s head swirled with names and faces she doubted she’d be able to match come the morning. The scowls had loosened during the course of that hour, although Amber suspected that was thanks to the steady flow of wine and not from feeling more comfortable with their new mistress. She kept glancing around for Stivin, but he was nowhere to be seen. She was afraid to ask Krayne or, indeed, anyone else while Krayne was by her side. He’d decided she was unworthy to so much as say Stivin’s name, and Amber could not face his rage right now. Duncan was amiable and congratulated her warmly. Amber accepted his buss on her cheek warily, still reluctant to trust this man who’d tossed her down that pit.

Adam Johnstone, on the other hand, reminded Amber of her father. Not in looks, but in manner. His gruff sincerity and aged, twinkling eyes won her over. Her uncle William, she’d managed to avoid. Until now.

He trapped her in the passage on her return from making use of the garderobe on the second floor. “That was some prancy speech given by yer husband.”

“Aye,” Amber replied, pretending not to notice his sneering tone. “Krayne Johnstone is a fine man.”

“Nae so fine as ta forget that ye be a Jardin.”

“I thought the purpose of my marriage was to join our clans in peace.”

“The purpose of this marriage is revenge,” he said snidely. “Ye’ve done more than any mon can forgive.”

“I’ve done naught,” Amber snapped. “At least my new husband does not blame me for some silly curse.”

“Nay.” William leered closer. “He despises ye fer far worse.”

Her eyes narrowed in contempt. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“’Twould nae surprise me if he doesna seek a way ta rid ’imself from the burden o’ an unwanted wife.”

So, this was why William had consented to this marriage. If he thought that Krayne would do his dirty deeds, he was sorely mistaken. “Krayne would never harm me.”

“The mon raped ye.”

Amber blanched, then drew in a staggered breath. “My husband dotes on me.”

The bluff laugh chilled her bones. “Yer nae more than a sack of stones strapped ta his back fer his crime.”

Amber could not ignore the truth in that. If Krayne ever discovered that he’d been trapped by honour into marrying her without cause…She shook her hair back and glared at William. She would not jump into his goading trap.

More determined than ever to show her uncle how badly he’d failed, she said, “Krayne was so enamoured, he could not keep his hands off me. He did not rape me. He took me gently and I was willing.” Her hand fluttered to her belly. “Mayhap even now I carry his son.”

William’s face mottled to a deep red. “Yer daft ta think I’ll believe such hog spittle.”

“You forget who and what I am. Do you honestly doubt my powers to bewitch a mere mortal man?”

The blood left his face.

“But don’t take my word on it,” she added. “Come see for yourself.”

She walked quickly, not bothering to glance over her shoulder to check if William followed, and stopped only when she came to the threshold of the hall. Krayne was easily visible, standing beside a man as blond as Krayne was dark, slightly shorter and perhaps a little broader in the chest. As she neared, she could not help but admire the classic beauty that shaped the blond man’s face. And admit that Krayne’s harsh features attracted her more.

Krayne welcomed her to join them and introduced the blond man as Aegus and a good friend. His gaze went past her, hardening, and she knew that her uncle had come to see for himself after all.

Sending up a prayer that Krayne would play along and not cause a scene amongst his people, Amber moved to take her place beside Krayne and face William.

“Jardin,” Krayne said dryly, thinking this would be the first and last family gathering the maggot would be invited to attend.

“I’ve nae had the opportunity ta congratulate ye,” Jardin said.

Krayne lifted a shoulder, then went rigid as Amber snuggled into his side and rested her cheek upon his upper arm. He dropped his gaze to find her smiling up at him.

“Darling,” she cooed, “I’ve a taste for one of those delicious apple tartlets you fed me earlier.”

Amber did not coo endearments at him. Neither did she snuggle. And as long as he’d known her, her smile had never been so open and inviting. And damn if his body wasn’t reacting.

“Of course, sweeting,” he said awkwardly, and made for the refreshment table Brayan had laid with sweets after the hastily prepared meal.

What was the little wildcat up ta now? Snuggling up ta me and demanding I play the cross-eyed slave?

He selected the tartlet and brought it back, resisting the impulse to shove it down her throat when she parted her lips for him. To his credit, he held it while she nibbled and he made the mistake of looking to Aegus for help.

Aegus was turning red in an attempt to hold back his laughter. Jardin’s colour was not far off, though not from amusement. Krayne felt heat rise up his throat. If Amber hadn’t finished the last nibble just then, he would have shoved.

“I’ll take my leave then,” Jardin said stiffly, “fer I’ve a way ta travel.”

Aegus nodded.

Krayne shrugged.

Amber smiled brightly.

“I’d have my niece walk out wi’ me, if it please her husband.”

Krayne might have refused, for the sheer hell of it. As it was, he’d gladly see Amber walk all the way back to Spedlin with her uncle and knew he needed the time to cool down, lest he throttle his bride before all these witnesses. He gave her a hard smile. “Ye have my permission.”

Indignation spotted her cheeks. They left, and Aegus bent over double.

“One sound,” warned Krayne, “and I’ll kick ye butt from here ta Lochmaben.”

Aegus came up, holding his side. “Christ’s teeth, Krayne. What was that about?”

“’Tis called marriage,” he snapped, wondering much the same himself.

“Yer lady wife is a beauty, I’ll give ye that.”

“But?”

Aegus shut his mouth at the hard glint in the silver eyes piercing him. Alexander and Duncan chose that moment to include themselves in his group.