Free Saving Grace by Julie Garwood Page B

arms and reached down to touch the top of his son’s head.
    Nicholas gave her away in marriage. She didn’t resist when he placed her hand in MacBain’s. He was damned proud of his sister. He knew she was nervous, but she didn’t try to cling to his side. She was positioned between the two warriors, with her future husband on her right and her brother on her left. Johanna stood straight, held her head high, and looked straight ahead.
    She was dressed in a white ankle-length chainse and matching knee-length bliaut. The square neckline of her wedding attire was embroidered with pale pink and green threads fashioned into the design of dainty rosebuds.
    She smelled like roses, too. The scent was faint, yet vastly appealing to MacBain. Father MacKechnie took a small bouquet of flowers from the corner of the altar and handed it to her before hurrying around to the other side to begin the mass.
    MacBain kept his gaze on his bride. She was an utterly feminine creature, and God’s truth, he didn’t know what he was going to do with her. His main worry was that she wouldn’t be strong enough to survive such a harsh life. He forced the concern aside. It had become his duty to make certain she survived. He would protect her from danger, and if she needed to be pampered, then by God he would see she was pampered. He didn’t have the faintest idea how, but he was an intelligent man. He would find out. He wouldn’t let her dirty her hands either or do any backbreaking work, and he would demand she rest each and every day. Taking care of her was the very least he could do in appreciation for the land she’d given him, and surely that was the only reason he was worrying about her comforts now.
    The wind blew a strand of hair in her face. She let go of his hand to brush the strand of hair back over her shoulder. It was a dainty, feminine action. The curly mass of gold seemed to float down her back. Her hand shook so hard that the nosegay she held against her waist was rapidly dropping petals.
    When she didn’t take hold of his hand again, he was so bothered that he grabbed her hand and hauled her up close to his side. Nicholas saw the possessive action and smiled.
    The ceremony was going along quite nicely until Father MacKechnie asked her to promise to love, honor, and obey her husband. She considered his request a long minute. Then she shook her head and turned to the groom.
    She motioned for him to lean down and stretched up on tiptoe so that she could whisper in his ear.
    “I will try to love you, m’lord, and I’ll certainly honor you because you’ll be my husband, but I don’t believe I’ll obey you much. I’ve found that total submissiveness doesn’t agree with me.”
    She was wringing the petals off the stems of her flowers while she explained her position. She couldn’t look him in the eye either but stared at his chin while she waited for his reaction.
    MacBain was too astonished by what she’d just said to him to notice how worried she was. He had to force himself not to laugh.
    “Are you jesting with me?”
    He hadn’t whispered his question. Since he wasn’t overly concerned about their audience overhearing their discussion, she wasn’t going to be concerned either. Her voice was every bit as forceful as his had been when she gave him her answer.
    “Jest with you during the middle of our wedding vows? I think not, m’lord. I’m very serious. Those are my conditions. Do you accept them?”
    He did laugh then. He simply couldn’t help himself. Her burst of courage was short-lived. She felt embarrassed and humiliated, but the issue was too important to let pass.
    There was only one course of action left. She straightened her shoulders, jerked her hand away from his, and shoved the bouquet of flowers at him. Then she made a curtsy to the priest, turned around, and walked away.
    The message was clear. Still, there were a few Maclaurin soldiers who were slow to catch on.
    “Is the lass leaving?” Keith, the