by Banks, Maya
“Mother Serenity told me that kisses are for the cheek or the mouth, but only in very intimate situations. And they shouldn’t last overlong. Just enough to convey the proper emotion. She never mentioned anything about a tongue. It can’t be proper for you to kiss me and stick your tongue inside my mouth.”
His lips twitched in a suspicious manner. He even put a hand to his mouth and rubbed firmly for several moments before he lowered it and said, “And your Mother Serenity is an authority on kissing, is she?”
She nodded vigorously. “Oh aye. She told me everything I needed to know for the eventuality of my marriage. She took her duty very seriously.”
“Perhaps you should instruct me personally on this kissing matter,” he said. “You could show me the way of it.”
She frowned but then remembered this was the man she was taking as her husband. In that case, she supposed it was entirely proper, and even expected, that she should offer instruction in the matter of loving. It was very decent of him to be so understanding and to offer to correct the matter immediately. Why, they were going to get along quite well.
Feeling much better about her impending nuptials, she leaned forward and pursed her lips, prepared to show him the way of it.
As soon as her lips touched his, he grasped her shoulders and hauled her even closer.
She felt swallowed up. Consumed. Like he was absorbing her very essence.
And despite her stern lecture and patient instruction, he used his tongue.
CHAPTER 12
“Wake up, my lady! ’Tis your wedding day.”
Mairin pried open her eyes and groaned at the sight of the women crowding into her small chamber. She was exhausted. Her late-night escape attempts and the time spent pacing her chamber had caught up to her. After last night’s conversation with the laird, she’d fallen into a deep sleep.
One of the women threw aside the furs covering the window, and sunlight speared through Mairin’s eyeballs with razor-sharp clarity.
Her moan was louder this time and it set off a titter of laughter through the room.
“Our mistress doesn’t sound excited to be marrying our laird.”
“Christina, is that you?” Mairin grunted out.
“Aye, lady. ’Tis I. We’re having hot water brought up for a bath.”
“I bathed last evening,” Mairin said. Perhaps it would gain her an extra hour of sleep.
“Oh, but a bath on your wedding morning is a must. We’ll wash your hair and work sweet-smelling oils into your skin. Maddie makes them herself and they smell divine. The laird will be most appreciative.”
The laird wasn’t uppermost on her mind this morning. Sleep was.
Another giggle raced around the room, and Mairin realized that once again, she’d given voice to her thoughts.
“And we’ve brought you a gown to be married in,” another of the women said.
Mairin looked over, trying to remember the name of the young woman who was beaming excitedly at her. Mary? Margaret?
“Fiona, my lady.”
Mairin sighed. “Sorry. There are so many of you.”
“I took no offense,” Fiona said cheerfully. “Now would you like to see the gown we’ve fashioned for you?”
Mairin shoved herself up to her elbow and stared through bleary eyes at the assembled women. “Gown? You sewed a gown? But I agreed to marry the laird only last evening.”
Maddie didn’t look the least bit apologetic. She smiled broadly at Mairin as they held up the gown for her to see. “Oh, we knew it was only a matter of time before he persuaded you, lass. Aren’t you glad we began sewing? It took two solid days of round-the-clock sewing, but I think you’ll be happy with the result.”
Mairin stared at the beautiful creation in front of her. Tears crowded to the surface, and she blinked to keep them at bay. “ ’Tis beautiful.” And it was. It was rich green brocade and velvet with gold-trimmed sleeves and hem. Around the bodice were intricately embroidered designs with gold threads that shone in the sunlight.
“I’ve never seen anything to rival it,” she said.
The three women beamed back at her. Then Maddie went over to the bed and yanked the covers back. “You don’t want to keep the laird waiting. The priest arrived at dawn this morning, and the laird is quite impatient to have the ceremony done.”
For the next hour, the women washed, scrubbed, and rubbed Mairin from head to toe. By the time she was done with the bath and laid out on the bed for them to work in the scented oils, Mairin was perilously close to falling into unconsciousness.
They’d washed and dried her hair and then brushed it until it crackled and shined. It fanned over her back, satiny fine. Mairin had to admit, the women knew how to make a woman feel her best on her wedding day.
“All done,” Christina announced. “ ’Tis time for the dress and then you’re off to your wedding.”
Just then a knock sounded on the door and Gannon’s voice boomed through the heavy wood.
“The laird wants to know how much longer.”
Maddie rolled her eyes and then went to yank open the door, though she kept her body between Gannon and the inside of the room so he wouldn’t look on Mairin’s nakedness.
“You tell the laird we’ll have her down as soon as we can. These things can’t be rushed! Would you have the lass not looking her best on her wedding day?”
Gannon muttered an apology and then backed away, promising he’d relay the news to the laird.
“Now then,” Maddie said as she returned to Mairin. “Let’s get this gown on you and then downstairs to the laird.”
“They’ve been at it for hours,” Ewan muttered. “What could possibly take so long?”
“They’re women,” Alaric said, as if that explained everything.
Caelen nodded and turned up his mug to drain the last of his ale.
Ewan sat in his high-backed chair and shook his head. His wedding day. There was a marked difference in this day and the day he’d wed his first wife.
He hadn’t thought of Celia except in passing for quite some time now. Some days he had difficulty conjuring the image of his young wife to mind. The years had passed, and with each year, she’d faded more from his memory.
He’d been a much younger man when he’d wed Celia. She, too, had been young. Vibrant. He remembered that much. She always had a ready smile. He’d considered her a friend. They’d been childhood playmates before training had become his life. Years later, their fathers had seen fit to ally themselves and marriage between the clans made sense.
She’d borne him a child in their second year of marriage. By the time the third year rolled around, she was dead, his keep was in ruins, and his clan nearly decimated.
Aye, their wedding day had been a joyous occasion. They’d feasted and celebrated for three days. Her face had been alight with joy, and she’d ed the entire time.
Would Mairin smile? Or would she come to their marriage with those same wounded eyes she’d had when she arrived?
“Where is she, Papa?” Crispen whispered beside him. “Do you think she changed her mind?”
Ewan turned to smile at his son. He stroked his hand over the lad’s hair in a reassuring manner. “She’s just getting dressed, son. She’ll be here. She gave her word, and as you know, she puts great store in keeping her word. Women like to look their best on their wedding day.”
“But she’s beautiful already,” Crispen protested.
“That’s true,” Ewan said. And it was. The lass wasn’t just beautiful, she was enchanting. “But they like to look extra special for just such occasions.”
“Does she have flowers? She should have flowers.”
Ewan almost laughed at the look of consternation on Crispen’s face. His son was more nervous than he. Ewan wasn’t nervous. Nay, he was just impatient and ready to have it done with.
“You don’t have flowers?” Crispen asked.
Ewan looked down at his son. Crispen looked so appalled that Ewan frowned.
<
br /> “I didn’t give flowers any thoughts. But perhaps you’re right. Why don’t you go take up the matter with Cormac.”
Across the room, Cormac had evidently been listening in on the conversation. He looked as appalled as Crispen had, and he hastily took a step back. But Crispen was too fast and was immediately in front of the man, demanding that they go collect flowers for Mairin.
He shot Ewan a disgruntled look as he allowed himself to be tugged from the great hall.
“What the hell is taking them so long?” Caelen demanded. He shifted restlessly in his chair and spread out his long legs as he slouched lower. “This is a waste of a good training day.”
Ewan chuckled. “I wouldn’t consider my wedding day to be a waste of time.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Alaric said. “While the rest of us are out sweating, you’ll be enjoying a warm, sweet lass.”
“He’ll be sweating,” Caelen said slyly. “Just not in the way the rest of us are.”
Ewan held up his hand to staunch the bawdy talk before it caught on with the rest of the men. The last thing he needed was his prospective bride to walk in and be embarrassed to her toes.
Just then Maddie burst in, her cheeks rosy and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
“She’s coming, laird!”
Ewan glanced over at the priest, who was enjoying a mug of ale, and motioned him up. As Mairin rounded the corner, the entire hall stood in acknowledgment of her presence.
Ewan was momentarily struck dumb. The lass wasn’t just beautiful. She was utterly magnificent. Gone was the shy, somewhat awkward young woman and in her place was a lady with all the bearing of a descendent of royalty. She looked just like the princess she was.
She swept into the room, head held high, a look of serene calm on her face. Her hair was partially pulled into a knot just above her nape and the rest hung loose to her waist.
There was such a regal air about her presence, that Ewan suddenly felt unworthy.
Crispen burst into the room holding a wad of flowers so tightly that the stems were already limp and the flowers wilting as he flopped them about. He ran to Mairin and thrust them into her hands, petals scattering to the floor.
Her expression completely changed. Gone was the super-composed, cool woman. Her eyes warmed and she smiled tenderly down at his son. She leaned down to brush a kiss across his brow.
“Thank you, Crispen. They’re absolutely beautiful.”
Something twisted in the region of Ewan’s heart.
He stepped forward until he was just behind Crispen. He reached down to frame his hands over his son’s shoulders as he stared into Mairin’s blue eyes.
“The priest is waiting, lass,” he said gruffly.
She nodded then glanced down at Crispen. “Will you come with us, Crispen? After all, you’re very much a part of this ceremony.”
Crispen puffed out his chest until Ewan thought he might burst. Then he slipped his hand into Mairin’s. Ewan reached for the other, and she handed her flowers off to Maddie before sliding her fingers through his.
It felt right. Here was his family. His son and the woman who would be mother to him. He tugged her toward the waiting priest, as his two brothers came forward to flank Ewan and Mairin.
There in the protective hold of his family, he and Mairin exchanged their vows. She never wavered. Never gave any hint that she was anything but willing. She stared the priest in the eyes and then turned to look into Ewan’s, as she recited her promise to honor and obey.
When the priest declared them married, Ewan leaned in to seal their troth with a kiss. She hesitated a mere moment and then whispered, “You will not use your tongue!”
His laughter rang out over the hall. His clan looked eagerly for the source of his laughter, but he had eyes only for his new bride.
He found her lips, so sweet and warm, and took his time as he ravaged her mouth. And, oh aye, he used his tongue.
When he broke away, she glared ferociously up at him. He grinned and reached for her hand, pulling her against him as they turned to face his clan. Then he held her hand high in the air and presented her as the new mistress of the keep.
The roar of his clan echoed so loudly in the hall that Mairin winced. But she stood proudly beside Ewan, a delighted smile curving her lips.
One by one, his men came to kneel and offer their pledge to their new mistress. At first, Mairin looked baffled by the show of loyalty. She twitched as if she would have liked to disappear through the flooring.
Ewan smiled as he watched her come to terms with her new position. She’d led a sequestered life. Now, for the first time, she was stepping into her destiny.
When the last soldier bowed before Mairin, Ewan took her elbow to guide her toward the table where Gertie and the kitchen maids were busy setting out the trenchers for the wedding feast. In the corner, a small group of talented musicians gathered to play a set of lively tunes. After the feast there would be dancing and merriment until the bedding ceremony at sundown.
Ewan shared his place at the head of the table with Mairin. He wanted her seated beside him in a position of honor.
He called for a chair to be placed adjacent to his, and when the trenchers were laid and the first course served, he offered her the choicest bites from his serving.
Seemingly delighted by his regard, she allowed him to offer her tender bites of meat from his dagger. She smiled up at him so dazzlingly that for a moment he forgot to breathe. Shaken by the effect she had on him, he nearly knocked over the mug containing ale.
Alaric and Caelen sat on either side of Ewan and Mairin. After the last of the people sitting at the main table had been served, Alaric rose from his seat and asked for silence. Then he held up his goblet and glanced down at Ewan and Mairin.
“To the laird and his lady!” he called. “May their marriage be blessed with health and many sons.”
“Or daughters,” Mairin muttered so low that Ewan almost didn’t catch it.
His mouth twitched as he listened to the rest of his clan roar agreement. He raised his goblet and inclined his head in Alaric’s direction.
“And may our daughters all be as beautiful as their mother.”
Mairin gasped softly and turned shining eyes on Ewan. Her smile lit up the entire room. To his utter shock, she suddenly bolted up, grabbed his face between her hands, and gave him a lusty kiss that curled his toes.
The room erupted in a chorus of cheers. Even Caelen looked amused. When Mairin pulled away, Ewan was hard-pressed to remember his own name.
She scooted closer to him, pressing her soft curves to his side. His body reacted immediately. He was instantly hard, and his current position prevented him from shifting to alleviate the growing discomfort. If he adjusted, he would unseat Mairin, and he didn’t want her to move away from him.
So he sat and grew more uncomfortable bupted inment.
Midway through the feast, the flute player began a particularly merry tune. It was lively and fast and dozens of feet began a rhythmic tapping on the floor. Mairin clapped her hands together and let out a sound of pure delight.
“Do you dance, lass?” Ewan asked.
She gave a wistful shake. “Nay, there was never dancing in the abbey. I’m probably clumsy at it.”
“I’m not exceedingly graceful myself,” Ewan said. “We’ll muddle through it together.”
She gifted him with another smile and impulsively squeezed his hand. He made a sudden vow that no matter how foolish he looked, he would dance with her as long as she wished it.
“Laird, Laird!”
One of his watchmen ran into the hall, sword drawn. He searched Ewan out and immediately set out for the end of the table. Ewan rose, his hand automatically going to Mairin’s shoulder in a protective gesture.
The soldier was out of breath when he came to a halting stop a mere foot from where Ewan stood. Alaric and Caelen shot up from their seats and waited for the news.
“An army approaches,
Laird. I received word but a moment ago. They carry Duncan Cameron’s banner. They come from the south and were two hours from our border at last report.”
CHAPTER 13
Ewan cursed long and hard. Alaric’s and Caelen’s expressions grew stormy, but something else glimmered in their eyes. Anticipation.
Ewan found Mairin’s hand again and gripped it so tight that she winced from the pain of it.
“Gather the troops. Assemble in the courtyard. Wait for me,” Ewan commanded.
He started to drag Mairin from the table when Alaric called out. “Where in the hell are you going, Ewan?”
“I have a marriage to consummate.”
Openmouthed, Mairin found herself hauled toward the stairs. Ewan bounded up the steps, and she was forced to run to keep pace, or be dragged behind him.
He shoved her into his chamber and slammed the door behind him. She watched in befuddlement as he began stripping out of his clothing.
“Take off your dress, lass,” he said, as he tossed aside his tunic.
Completely bewildered, Mairin sagged onto the edge of the bed. He wanted her to undress? He was busy pulling his boots off, but it was her duty to undress him. He didn’t have the right of it at all.
Thinking to instruct him on his error, she rose and hurried over to stay his progress. For a moment, he halted and stared at her as if she were daft.
“ ’Tis my duty to undress you, Laird. ’Tis the wife’s duty,” she corrected. “We’re married now. I should undress you in our chambers.”
Ewan’s gaze softened and he reached out to cup her cheek. “Forgive me, lass. This time will be different. Duncan Cameron’s army approaches. I don’t have the time to woo you with sweet words and a soft touch.” His forehead creased and he grimaced. “It will have to be a quick bedding.”
She looked up at him in confusion. Before she could question him further, he began tugging at the laces on her dress. When he didn’t immediately have the bodice undone, he pulled impatiently.
“Laird, what are you doing?” she stammered out.