John lowered his voice. “I didnae mean the cattle. Ye’ve shackled yourself with a wife—and a MacKenzie one at that.”
Alex favored many things about John, but sometimes his friend’s truthfulness was more of a pain in the arse. “And that MacKenzie lass brings two hundred fifty cattle with her as her dowry—two hundred fifty MacKenzie cattle.”
A grin overtook John’s features and he held up his hands in mock defense. “Ye donna need to convince me. The men seemed to enjoy themselves.” He nodded to the drunken men.
“Aye. For a time I thought our clans would actually be warring in the middle of the great hall.” He ran his hand through his hair in a tired gesture. “I was somewhat concerned, but at least everyone is still in one piece—well, more or less.”
“Ye gave a fine speech, Alex.” John took another swig of ale and lowered his voice. “The men are still on guard.”
“Good. Make certain they arenae in their cups, and they will be rewarded when the MacKenzies take their leave. I want a watchful eye kept on them at all times. The MacKenzie retired with a lass a short time ago. Where is his son?”
“I have Ian following him. Nay worries, Alex. Enjoy your celebration because on the morrow, ye will be a married man. ’Tis too bad Doireann took her leave with Donald. Ye could have had at least one more night of freedom before ye spoke your vows.”
“I doubt I will be getting much rest with my new bride if Aunt Iseabail has her way. The woman has been constantly hounding me about an heir. Praise the saints I should forget such a task.”
“That is one duty I know ye will nae mind performing.” John gave him a friendly punch in the arm. “At least the MacKenzie lass isnae so sore on the eyes. I cannae help but wonder if ye would have accepted the offer so willingly had she been a troll.”
Alex shrugged. “’Tis late. I suppose I should gather Aunt Iseabail, but she doesnae look as though she is ready to part company.”
John gulped the remainder of his ale and placed his tankard down on the table. “And I should be checking on the men to make sure they stay at their posts.” He rose from the chair and slapped Alex on the back. “Ye better seek your bed, my laird. Ye will want to give your bonny new bride all of the attention she deserves on the morrow.”
Alex smiled. “Aye, as soon as I am able to rouse Aunt Iseabail from the table and the company.” He watched John walk away, and then he shook his head, thinking about his aunt. She’d drunk most of the men under the table and still was able to hold a conversation. The MacDonells were indeed strong stock.
Alex approached the table, and the older MacKenzie man looked thoroughly engaged in the conversation—well, either that or completely taken by Alex’s aunt. The man sat forward, hanging on the edge of her every word.
“So my dear departed husband stripped them of their clothing, took their mounts, and made them all walk back as bare as the day they were born,” said Aunt Iseabail. “They ne’er encroached on our lands again.” She was friendly, smiling and bantering in a relaxed manner. As though she sensed someone beside her, she turned. “Alexander, I was sharing stories with William.”
“Aye, your aunt has some amazing tales,” said William, his eyes never leaving hers.
Alex knelt down beside her. “Aunt Iseabail, ’tis late. Why donna ye let me escort ye to your chamber?”
To his surprise, she pushed him away. “Nephew, William and I are having a delightful time. Right, William?”
“We only stay here to talk. I will make certain your aunt seeks her chamber.” William met Alex’s eyes without flinching. “Alone.”
When Alex raised his brow at his aunt, she smirked, shooing him away. “Please, Nephew. ’Tis been a long time since I required a chaperone.” And with that, Aunt Iseabail promptly ignored him and continued her conversation with William. “Now what was I speaking of?”
Alex knew when he wasn’t wanted. Recognizing that sleep would not come, he wasn’t ready to seek his bed and walked out into the bailey. Against the far wall, John spoke in raised tones with Ian. When John threw his hands up in the air, Alex knew something was amiss.
He approached his men and John’s words were hostile. Ian received a verbal thrashing and looked none too pleased.
“What the hell is going on?” asked Alex. “I can hear ye from across the bailey.”
At the sound of his voice, Ian turned. “My laird, the MacKenzie has sought his chamber, but I cannae find the MacKenzie’s son.”
* * *
“Colin, what do ye think ye are doing?” Sybella scolded him, pulling her arm out of her brother’s grasp.
Colin lit the candle and she glanced around. Several pieces of unfinished embroidery were laid upon the table, and a handful of dresses were thrown carelessly on the bed. The room was smaller than hers but just as enchanting. The dark wooden frame of the bed and the ornate furnishings complemented one another. And with bunches of floral stems that were placed upon the mantel, Sybella knew in an instant whose chamber this was.
“What are ye doing in here?” she asked, her voice unintentionally going up a notch.
“I was searching for you,” Colin responded with returning impatience.
“Searching for me? Why would ye be searching for me in Aunt Iseabail’s chamber? I will have the truth, Brother.”
His stare drilled into her and he cleared his throat. “I didnae know it was her room.”
“Ye didnae know,” she repeated.
“Aye, ye heard me. What other reason would I have to be in her chamber, Ella?”
She walked around him. “Let me tell ye what I think.”
“Ye always do,” Colin murmured under his breath.
“Surely ye arenae so bold as to search for the stone before I am wed. Ye told me as much. That being said, I think ye cannae help but sneak around Glengarry and wonder how Kintail compares,” she simply stated.
He held up his hands. “Aye, ye found me out. Can we please take our leave now before we are discovered?”
She gave a brief nod. “That would probably be best. If we were to be discovered and Father found out ye—”
“Exactly. Let us seek your chamber. I would like to know what kind of poverty my sister is living in,” he said in a jesting tone. He opened the door and gestured her through as he blew out the candle.
They walked down the hall and entered Sybella’s bedchamber. She had just closed the door when Colin smirked. “There is nay way this is your chamber, Sister.”
“What do ye mean? Of course this is my chamber.”
He spoke in his casual, jesting way. “’Tis far too clean to be your room, Ella.”
She tossed a pillow at him and he caught it with one hand. He placed the pillow back on the bed and sat down beside her. His eyes had a burning, faraway look in them.
“What is it, Colin?”
“Are ye going to be all right here with the MacDonell? I would expect the truth.”
His smile was almost apologetic, and she punched him playfully in the arm. “Is that what is troubling ye? In truth, I am nae thrilled to be the MacDonell’s wife, but as I told ye before, I will do what is expected of me. Like all things in life, I am sure I will grow accustomed.”
“Do ye mean that?”
“I wouldnae speak the words if they werenae the truth.” She couldn’t figure out if Colin’s concern was that of an older brother or if there was some other meaning to his words or lack thereof. He was always direct with her and never made a play upon his words—yet, she had an underlying feeling something was off. “Are ye certain that is all that troubles ye?”
He hesitated, studying her for a moment. “I am only concerned for your welfare. Father made this alliance for the sole purpose of finding the stone. ’Tis dangerous, Ella. I want ye to be careful and donna be so quick to search for the stone. It will probably take the MacDonell a little while to lower his guard around ye. Give him time to know ye, and I am sure he will be besotted.” He smiled warmly. “Most importantly, earn his trust. Ma
ke him realize that his wife stands by his side. I know it may be difficult for ye, but be a dutiful wife and please try to hold your tongue.”
“This is the second time ye and Father have made such a reminder. Why do I get the feeling ye donna trust me to take this responsibility seriously? I am a MacKenzie. I know what is to be gained from recovering the stone.” When his eyes flashed with the same familiar display of impatience, she added, “But I understand what ye mean. I will make certain I have the MacDonell’s trust before I start to search for the stone so he isnae suspicious of me.”
Colin kissed her on the cheek and then rose. “I will see ye in a few hours for your wedding, Sister. Try to get some rest.” He was about to open the door when she spoke.
“And Colin?”
He turned around and raised his brow. “Aye?”
“Seek your own chamber and stop your wanderings lest we both find ourselves upon the gallows.”
He rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him.
* * *
“Where the hell is he?” asked Alex for the hundredth time.
“Donna worry. We will find him,” said John reassuringly.
“And ye searched the chambers?”
“Aye.”
“The bailey, stables, parapet.” Alex knew there was no need to continue because Colin MacKenzie had simply walked into the great hall. Turning to John, Alex snarled, “Make sure Ian keeps a firm watch on the MacKenzie’s son now. I will see ye on the morrow or in a few short hours.”
Alex reached the hall to his chamber. When he heard laughter, he glanced up as Aunt Iseabail and William walked from the other end of the hall, arm in arm. Alex made a mad dash inside his bedchamber and closed the door. When William’s voice carried through the hall, Alex couldn’t help himself and he paused inside the door.
“Lady Iseabail, I must thank ye for a most enjoyable evening. I havenae had the pleasure of such delightful company for quite some time.”
“I thoroughly enjoyed your company as well, William. Ye have many entertaining stories. I am especially fond of your tales as a young lad. They were verra charming.”
“’Tis been my pleasure. I shall see ye on the morrow for the wedding.”
“Aye, the wedding. We have waited so long for Dòmhnall to wed, and frankly, I ne’er thought it would happen. My husband and I are verra proud of him.”
William paused and Alex cringed. But he had to give William credit when the MacKenzie man simply made a polite farewell and left his aunt to her own devices. Poor Aunt Iseabail. Alex wished he could cease his aunt’s memory lapses, but at least she was otherwise healthy and happy.
He finally crawled into bed only to find himself staring at the ceiling. When he grew tired of that, he gazed at the wall. He lay in the drowsy warmth of his bed, thinking. He wasn’t sure how long he had remained in the same position when an image popped into his mind.
Five years ago, Alexander first laid eyes on the fair-colored lass with her golden tresses and dusty rose cheeks. She was going to jump from the top of the waterfall. Alex admired a lass who showed some bollocks. Of course, that was before he realized the wily female was a dreaded MacKenzie. At the time, he could not say what had surprised him more. The fact that the damn MacKenzies stepped foot on his father’s land or his own brazen mockery of kissing his enemy’s daughter.
The lass had barely spoken with him this eve, but he knew he hadn’t really gone out of his way to initiate conversation with her, either. He probably should have made more of an effort, been more attentive. Sybella said she had a headache. Perhaps he should show her some kindness and ask if she needed anything—well, if she was still awake.
Alex threw the covers from the bed and stood. Hastily, he donned his kilt. He walked toward the adjoining door, completely aware that the headstrong MacKenzie lass probably had it barred. He was momentarily taken aback when he tried the latch and found it unlocked. He knocked softly and then slowly pushed open the door.
One bedside candle remained lit, illuminating Sybella’s long golden tresses. He stood close to the edge of the bed and simply watched her. Her nightrail had slipped down over her shoulder and displayed the milky color of her skin. Her hair tumbled carelessly down her back, and her seductive young body and wholesome good looks tightened his groin.
Her smooth skin glowed with pale undertones, and her cheeks were of rose and pearl. She looked more delicate and ethereal than ever. The prolonged anticipation of touching her was almost unbearable.
He stepped forward and extended his fingers over the contours of her shapely figure. He was close enough that he could almost caress her. When reality sunk in, Alex hastily pulled back his hand, knowing the mere touch of her body would be his undoing. With one last look, he lazily appraised her.
She was beautiful. And in a few hours she would be his.
He walked back through the adjoining door and gently closed it behind him—completely unaware that Sybella’s eyes were open.
Five
Sybella’s eyes burned from sleeplessness. Her mind kept turning to last eve—or should she say a few short hours ago—when her betrothed had snuck into her chamber through the adjoining door. Alexander had some bollocks; she would give him that. Did he presume their wedding night would start earlier than expected? She had feigned sleep to deter any advances and had breathed a sigh of relief when he eventually left. Only the gods knew what went on in that man’s head.
She pulled out her wedding dress and tossed it on the bed. At least her tiredness would keep her sanity at bay. She splashed some water from the bowl onto her face, but it was not as cold and bracing as she’d hoped it would be. She needed something to snap out of this tired stupor. When there was a knock at her door, she picked up a cloth and dried her eyes.
“Sybella, ’tis Mary.”
Praise the saints.
Mary swung open the door, and Sybella didn’t think fast enough to close it again. Mary stood with her hands on her hips, assessing Sybella from head to toe. “Look at ye. Ye arenae even dressed. Your hair is a mess, and your eyes look as though ye were in a brawl.”
“And good morn to ye as well, Mary,” said Sybella with a bright smile.
Mary closed the door and spoke in a rush of words. “Come now. Ye must make haste.” She approached the bed and then brushed the top of the feather mattress with her hand as if she were wiping crumbs from the table. “I am nae saying anything about last eve because I know ye were distraught, but there is something we need to discuss before ye speak your vows.”
Sybella cringed. “And what might that be?”
“There is nay delicate way to speak upon such matters so I will be blunt.”
“I would expect naught less,” Sybella said dryly.
“There are certain duties a man expects from his bride on the eve of his wedding.”
When stains of scarlet appeared on Mary’s cheeks, Sybella gave her a polite smile. “Please spare us both. Ye donna need to discuss such subjects with me.”
“Since your dear mother is nay longer with us and I am the only woman of close relation, ’tis my duty, Sybella. How will ye know what to expect if nay one tells ye?”
A suffocating sensation tightened Sybella’s throat. From the look upon Mary’s face, she was not going to give up on her commentary any time soon. With a sense of dread, Sybella knew the battle of wills was lost before it had even begun. It didn’t help that Mary was right. Sybella didn’t know what to expect on the eve of her wedding, and frankly, she was more than a little curious and nervous.
While Mary talked in very specific terms, Sybella studied the furnishings. She gazed at her gown. She stretched her neck and almost forgot to give the occasional nod. With that, the detailed instruction on coupling was finished, and they got back to the task at hand.
Sybella was lifting the gown over her head when Mary asked, “Are ye all right?”
After pulling down the dress, Sybella straightened her bodice. “Of course.”
“Ye
can talk to me. I know this must nae be easy for ye.” When Sybella gave her a wry smile, Mary studied her intently. “Come sit down and let me fix your hair.”
Sybella sat on the bed while Mary brushed her hair. For some reason, Sybella’s palms had started to sweat. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “I donna know what is the matter with me, but my stomach is verra unsettled. I think I feel ill.”
“’Tis perfectly normal for all new brides. Once ye see your betrothed at the altar, ye will find your nervousness disappears. Trust me. The man will only have eyes for ye. There. Ye are all done. Ye look beautiful, Sybella, and I’m sure your mother would be verra proud.”
For the first time since she could remember, Sybella hoped that was true.
* * *
Alex stood in front of the altar in the stone chapel, waiting patiently for his betrothed. Bloodshot eyes stared back at him, and some of the men leaned up against the wall. Everyone was indeed a sorry sight. His clan sat to the right and Sybella’s kin to the left. Aunt Iseabail was the only MacDonell who sat next to a MacKenzie. She sat in the pew next to William, beaming approval. Alex hadn’t seen that spark in her eyes since last eve, when she was in her cups and doting on the MacKenzie man. Alex briefly contemplated whether or not his betrothed had fled when a vision of beauty stepped foot through the entrance.
The MacKenzie plaid was proudly draped over Sybella’s shoulder, and her sky-colored gown displayed a slim waist that flared into rounded hips. The sun illuminated her long golden tresses, making them look like strands of lustrous silk. She was simply…enchanting.
Escorted by her father, she walked slowly and moved with an easy grace. She nodded at a few people along the way and approached Alex at the altar.
He couldn’t help but smile. “My lady.” His voice was shakier than he would have liked.
She curtseyed in response. “My laird.”
The priest asked something of Sybella’s father and the MacKenzie may have answered, but to be truthful, Alex only half listened. Sybella was simply beautiful, and he could barely take his eyes from her. Everything that happened next would remain a haze around the edge of his mind.
To Wed A Wicked Highlander bboth-3 Page 4