curt mood when Graemme insisted they dispense with the
normal betrothal vows. He looked around and noted the room had
filled with the knights and ladies of the keep. Fortunately, a cool
breeze drifted through the window openings, so they would not be
unduly warm. After Brian walked Elyne over to her father's side,
Graemme beckoned Brian and Colyne to stand behind him.
"Halt yer clack!"
Chief Broccin's voice boomed with such vigor
'twas a wonder the walls did not shake. Two women who had been
whispering behind their hands near fell off their bench.
"Ye lack-witted women are here to witness
betrothal vows between Sir Graemme of Clibrick Castle and Lady
Elyne, not to smirk and slabber o'er seeing his private parts last
eve."
Graemme steeled himself from flinching at the
reminder. The sooner they finished here the better. He could not be
too long away from privacy, for his gut sent up warnings of
impending doom. His teeth clenched together to keep from yelling
vile threats at his intended bride. He stepped forward to the
center of the altar. He studied Elyne like she was some strange
creature he wanted to crush.
She was lovely to look at with her curly
brown hair restrained with a silver circlet around her brow. It
left glossy curls streaked with auburn hanging to her waist. A
silver girdle made of circlets hugged her hips, accenting their
slimness. To look at her, a man would not guess this woman could be
so treacherous she'd near poison a man to keep from wedding him.
She would learn a Morgan didna run like some addled lowland Scot
with a backbone of sheep's wool!
He stared into eyes the color of wet earth.
When he noted her swallow a gulp, he held up his right hand. With
one finger, he slowly crooked it, demanding she come forward. When
she hesitated, he narrowed his lids at her.
"Go!" Chief Broccin shoved her from the small
of her back.
She moved to face Graemme while her father
stationed himself facing them, his back to the altar.
"Sir Graemme wants his own betrothal vows and
I see no reason to deny him." He looked at Graemme and nodded, then
stepped back.
Graemme took Elyne's hands in a hard grip and
stared into her eyes.
"My family, the Morgans of Clibrick Castle,
have long held honor to be all important. A promise once given is
sacred. Our vows bind us one to another for all time. Once spoken,
it can never be broken—not by choice; only be death."
"I, Graemme, son to Angus, The Morgan of Lake
Naver, betroth Elyne, daughter to Chief Broccin of Raptor Castle,
to me forever in righteousness, in faithfulness," he stopped for
the length of a breath and his jaw hardened even more, "and with a
strong hand. Two months from this very day, we will wed.
"Ye will repeat after me: I, Elyne, daughter
of Chief Broccin of Raptor Castle, vow to wed Sir Graemme, son to
Angus, The Morgan of Lake Naver, and take him as my husband forever
in faithfulness, in obedience and forsaking all others two months
from this very day."
Elyne's clear voice mumbled over the words
vow and obedience.
"I didna hear ye. Ye will repeat it clearly
for everyone to hear." He squeezed her fingers to let her know he
meant what he said. She said the vows again, this time her voice
was stronger. For truth, it was with anger, but he cared not a
whit. He repeated the rest of the words he would have her
promise:
"I, Elyne, will not poison, cause to sicken
or injure in any way, my betrothed."
She gasped so loudly anyone with half a good
ear could hear her.
"I didna poison ye!"
"Heh. I suppose ye will say the crone did?
Dinna waste my time with such foolishness."
"I did not give ye poison. I canna help it if
ye have a
delicate
stomach for Cook's fare," she
muttered.
"Mayhap I should add lies to the vows? Repeat
the words. Now! I have no more time to linger."
Elyne near shouted the rest of the vows, her
face red with indignation. He cared not.
When they drew apart, he muttered to Colyne.
"See everyone leaves. I would have words with my
normal betrothal vows. He looked around and noted the room had
filled with the knights and ladies of the keep. Fortunately, a cool
breeze drifted through the window openings, so they would not be
unduly warm. After Brian walked Elyne over to her father's side,
Graemme beckoned Brian and Colyne to stand behind him.
"Halt yer clack!"
Chief Broccin's voice boomed with such vigor
'twas a wonder the walls did not shake. Two women who had been
whispering behind their hands near fell off their bench.
"Ye lack-witted women are here to witness
betrothal vows between Sir Graemme of Clibrick Castle and Lady
Elyne, not to smirk and slabber o'er seeing his private parts last
eve."
Graemme steeled himself from flinching at the
reminder. The sooner they finished here the better. He could not be
too long away from privacy, for his gut sent up warnings of
impending doom. His teeth clenched together to keep from yelling
vile threats at his intended bride. He stepped forward to the
center of the altar. He studied Elyne like she was some strange
creature he wanted to crush.
She was lovely to look at with her curly
brown hair restrained with a silver circlet around her brow. It
left glossy curls streaked with auburn hanging to her waist. A
silver girdle made of circlets hugged her hips, accenting their
slimness. To look at her, a man would not guess this woman could be
so treacherous she'd near poison a man to keep from wedding him.
She would learn a Morgan didna run like some addled lowland Scot
with a backbone of sheep's wool!
He stared into eyes the color of wet earth.
When he noted her swallow a gulp, he held up his right hand. With
one finger, he slowly crooked it, demanding she come forward. When
she hesitated, he narrowed his lids at her.
"Go!" Chief Broccin shoved her from the small
of her back.
She moved to face Graemme while her father
stationed himself facing them, his back to the altar.
"Sir Graemme wants his own betrothal vows and
I see no reason to deny him." He looked at Graemme and nodded, then
stepped back.
Graemme took Elyne's hands in a hard grip and
stared into her eyes.
"My family, the Morgans of Clibrick Castle,
have long held honor to be all important. A promise once given is
sacred. Our vows bind us one to another for all time. Once spoken,
it can never be broken—not by choice; only be death."
"I, Graemme, son to Angus, The Morgan of Lake
Naver, betroth Elyne, daughter to Chief Broccin of Raptor Castle,
to me forever in righteousness, in faithfulness," he stopped for
the length of a breath and his jaw hardened even more, "and with a
strong hand. Two months from this very day, we will wed.
"Ye will repeat after me: I, Elyne, daughter
of Chief Broccin of Raptor Castle, vow to wed Sir Graemme, son to
Angus, The Morgan of Lake Naver, and take him as my husband forever
in faithfulness, in obedience and forsaking all others two months
from this very day."
Elyne's clear voice mumbled over the words
vow and obedience.
"I didna hear ye. Ye will repeat it clearly
for everyone to hear." He squeezed her fingers to let her know he
meant what he said. She said the vows again, this time her voice
was stronger. For truth, it was with anger, but he cared not a
whit. He repeated the rest of the words he would have her
promise:
"I, Elyne, will not poison, cause to sicken
or injure in any way, my betrothed."
She gasped so loudly anyone with half a good
ear could hear her.
"I didna poison ye!"
"Heh. I suppose ye will say the crone did?
Dinna waste my time with such foolishness."
"I did not give ye poison. I canna help it if
ye have a
delicate
stomach for Cook's fare," she
muttered.
"Mayhap I should add lies to the vows? Repeat
the words. Now! I have no more time to linger."
Elyne near shouted the rest of the vows, her
face red with indignation. He cared not.
When they drew apart, he muttered to Colyne.
"See everyone leaves. I would have words with my
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