Page 73 of Unchain the Highlander's Heart

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

“Where have ye been, Murdina?” Ella hissed as Murdina now came to join the wedding procession.

The ceremony was to take place in the castle chapel, which was now filled with guests. The sun shone through the east window, falling on the altar cross, casting a shimmering golden shadow across the flagstone floor. Iver and Murdoch were standing at the far end, and a piper now struck up a tune so that the procession could move off. Murdina and Ella were standing behind Freya, who was on their father’s arm. She looked very pretty in her long, flowing dress, her hair tied back and a garland of flowers on her head.

“I was… I was speakin’ to Kin, if ye must know,” Murdina replied, and Ella gave an exasperated sigh.

“Leave him to rot, Murdina. He has caused nothin’ but trouble–for all of us. Why can ye nae enjoy this day and forget him?” she asked.

Murdina was about to reply, but her father now turned to her and raised his eyebrows.

“Enough of this,” he whispered, as now they came to the front of the chapel.

The guests fell silent, watching as the laird presented his daughter to Iver Doherty.

“Tis’ my solemn duty and pleasure to present my daughter to ye, Iver. Our noble cause is in the best of hands with men like ye at its helm,” he said, and Murdina rolled her eyes.

“I thank ye, laird. Ye have entrusted a precious treasure to me, one I shall guard with my very life,” he said, taking Freya by the arm.

Murdina glanced around her at the guests. She recognized many of the nobles loyal to the Jacobite cause. A gathering such as this must contain men with ties to the brotherhood of spies. Murdina fingered the ring in her pocket, waiting for her moment. Her father would say she was mad. Perhaps he would even have her dragged to the dungeons. But the thought of Kin spurred her on. She was determined to tell the truth, for his sake and the sake of them all. She glanced at Murdoch, who was looking smugly on at the proceedings.

“And now to the ceremony,” Murdina’s father said, beckoning the priest forward.

Murdina recognized him as the same priest who had presided at her sister’s burial. He was a wandering hermit of sorts, a man who would be arrested if his identity was known outside of Jacobite circles. Catholicism was all but outlawed under the Hanoverians, and the very act of the wedding was a matter of treason. Murdina knew Iver and Murdoch were merely biding their time, waiting for the right moment to strike. They would destroy everything the cause had worked so hard to build, and Murdina knew she could not stand by and watch them do so, even if it meant enduring her father’s wrath.

“In Nomine Patris, es Filii, et…” the priest began, but Murdina now stepped forward, taking out the ring and holding it up to the light.

“Stop! This cannae happen, ye cannae marry him, Freya, he is a traitor, and he will betray us all,” she cried.

Her father turned to her in angry astonishment, and Ella tried to pull her away.

“Stop this, Murdina… oh, I am so sorry, she is nae herself. That wicked man has bewitched her. Oh, how terrible,” she exclaimed.

Murdoch had stepped forward, too, and he made a grab for Murdina, who dodged him and raised the ring over her head. It was her final chance, her only hope, and she stared desperately around her, pointing at Iver, who was shaking his head.

“Traitor!” she screamed, and to her astonishment, there came the sound of swords drawn, and half a dozen men now rushed forward.

“The knot! Tis’ the sign!” one of them cried out, and now the priest, too, reached below his robes and pulled out a sword.

Chaos ensued, shouts and cries, uproar in the chapel as the supporters of Murdoch and Iver rushed forward to defend them. Swords clashed with swords, and Murdina turned in horror to find Iver with a dagger at Freya’s throat.

“What is this? What is the meanin’ of it?” their father exclaimed, staring around him in astonishment.

“The meanin’ is, laird, that yer daughter was tellin’ the truth,” the priest cried out as Iver dragged Freya back towards the altar.

“Ye stay back, stay back, all of ye or I shall slit her throat,” he snarled.

Murdoch, too, had joined him on the altar steps, and Murdina’s father now called out for calm.

“Please… nay, nae my daughter. What is it ye want? What… I daenae understand,” he said as Murdina raised her hands.

“Daenae hurt her, please–she is the innocent one. Ye have nay quarrel with her,” she said, but Iver only scowled, holding the dagger closer to Freya’s throat.

She was shaking with fear, her face turned pale, her pretty dress now torn and disheveled.

“Help me, Murdina,” she gasped.

“Tis’ all right, Freya. I will nae let him hurt ye,” Murdina said, but Murdoch laughed.

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