Page 70 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
Finally, as all seemed replete from their repast, and those who had left the hall to relieve themselves were again seated, Everard drew the meeting to order.
“As is our custom, now is the time fer each of ye tae have his say in the matter I have put before ye. But…” He held up his hand, and a hush fell over the hall. “There is another issue I wish tae put tae ye. While ye are making yer minds up about the lass, Mistress Davina, who is our guest here at Kiessimul, I ask ye one further question.”
Maxwell raised a questioning eyebrow.
“It is me fervent wish tae wed the lady, and now, I beg the Council tae grant its blessing tae me betrothal.”
A gasp went around the crowd. The loudest gasp from Maxwell. Glancing at Everard, he shook his head as if to say this was a move doomed to failure.
Everard, continued, with words the Council knew well.
“As ye all ken, yer laird may nae wed without the permission of his Clan.” He turned to the first of the men, seated on his right, his uncle George, from the north, the brother of his and Maxwell’s mother, Agnes.
George rose to his feet. “I have many concerns. I dinnae wish tae see our clan clashing wi’ the MacKinnons, yet I willnae agree tae send a lass tae her doom wi’ a cruel man such as Murchadh MacKinnon. So, tae the first of yer requests, I agree.”
Everard breathed his own silent sigh of relief. “And what of me second request?”
His uncle shook his head. “Nay, lad. Although I ken the lass taking the name MacNeil and becoming a member of the clan would provide greater protection fer her from the MacKinnons, I cannae agree tae our laird wedding a lass wi’out family. We dinnae ken her faither. When ye wed, it should be tae the daughter of another clan chief. Not a lass born on the wrong side of the blanket tae an unkenned faither.”
Everard winced at these words.
“Her maither, the late wife of Laird Murchadh MacKinnon was the Lady Sorcha, daughter of Nicol, Laird of Clan Comyn,” he countered. He hoped to convince George and others who may hold similar views, by pointing out Davina’s noble heritage. His heart was pounding, it seemed as if his very soul now depended on the verdict his Council would deliver.
Until the meeting he’d been desperately seeking a way to convince the Council and keep her safe, when, all the time, the solution was simple. He should wed her.
Not only because a marriage would afford her the protection of Clan MacNeil, but because his heart belonged to her. He had given it without realizing, when he’d first brought her to Kiessimul, and every day since.
“I’m sorry nephew, but I cannae grant yer heart’s desire. I will nae agree tae ye wedding this lass.”
Everard took a deep breath. There was naught he could say in response. He counted to ten as he breathed out. He’d used allhis words before the assembly and now he must await their judgment.
One by one they progressed around the group. Almost all agreed with Everard’s first proposal – that Davina should be allowed to remain under his protection at Kiessimul. But, apart from one sympathizer, there was universal nay-saying in respect to his request for the Clan blessing his proposal to wed Davina.
With a heavy heart he made his way with Maxwell to the seafront, needing to clear his head and rally his thoughts before the night’s feast with his Council members and their entourage. Feasting together after their meetings was something that usually brought Everard a good deal of pleasure. But tonight, he was not looking forward to sitting with them in the feasting hall, aware that their decision had robbed him of what he desired most. To make Davina his bride.
Maxwell attempted to soothe his ruffled feathers. “I didnae see that comin’ braither, although I willnae deny that Aileen and I saw something happenin’ between that two of ye. And I’m happy fer it and fer ye. They’ll come around in time. Ye’ve only tae wait. In the meantime, mayhap we’ll find the elusive Dùghall MacKinnon and put tae rest our wondering if he is Davina’s true father.”
Everard shook his head. “I dinnae wish tae wait. Yet I cannae wed the lass, fer nay priest will marry us without the approval of the Clan Council.” He ran fingers through his hair, shaking his head, before fixing a determined gaze on his brother. “However, there is one thing Icandae.”
Placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder Maxwell gave a sharp laugh. “I hear ye, braither. Ye’re considering handfasting?”
“Aye, that I am. ‘Tis nay the same as being wed in the chapel by a priest, yet ‘tis still a marriage fer love.”
Maxwell shook his head. “The Council will nay be happy when they find out what ye’ve done. Ye’re defying the Clan.”
Everard shrugged. “They may well be angry, yet many couples are wed fer life wi’out the blessing of a priest.”
“If ye’ll nae wait fer the Council tae change their minds, I understand ye have little choice if ye wish tae make the lady Davina yers.”
“I want nothing more,” Everard said simply.
Maxwell, seeing the determination in his brother’s eyes, could only nod. “Ye have me blessing as yer braither and as yer War Chief. She’s a bonny lass, and I understand yer wish tae make her yers. As fer Mackinnon? ‘Tis hoped he’ll hesitate tae attack her once she’s bound t’ye.” He snorted. “I’ll be by yer side when the Clan Council comes after yer blood.”
“If the lady agrees, we require two witnesses tae make our handfast legal and binding forever. Will ye and Aileen agree take on such a role?”
Maxwell slung an arm around Everard’s shoulders. “T’would be me pleasure braither, and I daresay Aileen will feel as I dae. And when the Council finally agrees, a priest will wed ye in the chapel.”
As the brothers made their way back to the solar, Everard roiled with an unholy mixture of happiness and dread. After all, he’d not yet asked Davina if she would wed with him, and his heart stuttered at the possibility she might refuse him.
