by Lynsay Sands
Chapter 10
" 'Tis quite unusual fer the proof o' innocence to be on display at the actual wedding feast."
Saidh blinked at Aunt Tilda's words and tore her gaze from her husband to glance at the bloodied sheet that hung over the banister. Heaving a sigh, she said, "Aye. I'm no' sure whose idea that was. Probably one o' me brothers."
"Do ye mind?" Aunt Tilda asked gently.
Saidh shrugged. "No more than the fact that half the castle probably heard me brother bellowing about Greer writing to tell him he'd ruined and was marrying me."
"Hmmm. No doubt the other half of the castle were told about it within minutes afterward," Aunt Tilda said dryly.
"Aye," Saidh agreed wryly and turned to find her husband again. He was seated on a bench across from Dougall at one of the lower tables. The rest of her brothers were gathered around the pair, laughing and cheering them on as they chugged back whatever they were drinking. All eight of the men had been seated at the high table just moments ago, but then her brothers had stood as one and dragged Greer down there to challenge him to a drinking contest. She had no idea why they'd dragged him away for it. She didn't mind them having the contest. They could have held it here at the high table without her fussing.
And they knew her well enough to be aware of that, she realized suddenly. What the devil were they up to?
"I suppose the proof o' innocence means we can bypass the bedding ceremony," Aunt Tilda said thoughtfully, and then glanced to her in question. "Unless ye want one?"
"Oh, nay." Saidh waved the idea away. She'd seen it at Fenella's wedding and thought it a great deal of fuss and nonsense for nothing. That thought made her glance toward the stairs as she wondered if Fenella knew about the wedding and feast. She must, of course. Her maid would have heard when she came below to collect Fenella's sup if not before, and had no doubt told her mistress. Saidh wasn't terribly surprised, though, that Fenella hadn't made an appearance to offer even feigned well wishes. She'd thrown the applemoyse at her just hours ago, after all, and that after seeming to suggest she was considering Greer as a husband for herself. No doubt Fenella's nose would be out of joint now.
"I find meself a little weary again tonight. Mayhap I'll retire early," Aunt Tilda said suddenly. Smiling at Saidh, she added, "And since that is the third time ye've yawned in as many minutes, mayhap ye should too. It may be good fer ye to get in a little nap ere Greer joins ye."
"Mayhap I will," Saidh said, stifling another yawn and rising when Lady MacDonnell did. She paused then, though, glancing uncertainly toward Greer and her brothers. "Do ye think I should tell Greer?"
"Nay." Lady MacDonnell chuckled. "Let him have his fun. He will be up soon enough."
Nodding, Saidh walked with her toward the stairs.
"I hope ye do no' mind not sleeping in the master chamber on yer first night as lady here," Lady MacDonnell said with concern a moment later as they started up the stairs. " 'Tis just with Alpin so ill--"
"I do no' mind at all," Saidh interrupted to assure her.
"Still, it seems a shame to spend yer wedding night in the guest room ye've been using."
"I do no' mind," Saidh repeated firmly. " 'Tis a nice room, and as ye said, there is no sense in moving Alpin when he's unwell."
"Aye," Aunt Tilda murmured with a frown. "Speaking of the lad, I suppose I'd best check on him ere I retire. His fever was definitely back before we moved below for the feast. I told Marian, the maid who was sitting with him," she explained. "I told her to fetch me if he got worse, so hopefully he has no', but I'll feel better checking on him anyway."
"I can do that, if ye like," Saidh offered.
"Thank ye, but nay. I want to talk to Marian anyway. Let her know I am retiring so no' to look fer me below."
Saidh opened her mouth to tell her that she could tell the woman that for her, but then gasped in surprise when Lady MacDonnell stumbled on the steps and crashed into her. The hand Saidh had been trailing along the rail tightened instinctively on the wood, saving her from a bad fall. She also reached for Aunt Tilda with her other hand to ensure she didn't tumble past her. The woman was surprisingly heavy and Saidh grunted at the full impact of Aunt Tilda's weight as it sent her falling back as far as her arm would straighten, before they then swung toward the railing, crashing into it with enough impact that it produced a cracking sound.
For one moment, Saidh feared the railing would give way and they'd both plunge to the great hall below, but it held and she was able to regain her balance, and then help Lady MacDonnell to find her own.
"Goodness," Aunt Tilda breathed once they were both safely on their feet again. "Fer a minute there I thought I'd be joining me Allen sooner than expected."
"So did I," Saidh admitted quietly. "Are ye all right?"
"Aye," Aunt Tilda assured her, but then scowled down at the steps and said, "Be careful though. There is something slippery on the steps. Probably Marian spilled some of the soup she fetched for Alpin. Or mayhap Fenella's maid spilled something as she carried up her food," she added in a mutter, and then shook her head and stepped carefully onto the next step as close to the wall as she could get to bypass whatever was on the wood. "I shall have Marian clean it up while I sit with Alpin."
Saidh peered down as she traversed the next couple of steps, but they were still a few steps from the landing and the light from the torches in the upper hall didn't reach there. The steps in question were in shadow.
"Well, good sleep, Saidh," Aunt Tilda murmured pausing on the landing and turning to hug her and press a kiss to her cheek. "I am glad to ha'e ye in our family."
"Thank ye," Saidh murmured, hugging the woman back. "Good sleep."
She waited until Lady MacDonnell had slid into the master bedchamber, and then covered a yawn with her hand and continued on to her own room. Her gaze slid to Fenella's door further down the hall as she paused at her own and Saidh's smile faded. She had resolved little, talking to her cousin, and was still left wondering if she had killed her husbands. It was a matter that she needed to put to rest, if only in her own mind.
Sighing, she pushed into her chamber and then paused to glance around. The room was softly lit by flickering flames in the fireplace. A tray with cheese, bread, fruit and what appeared to be mulled cider sat on the table between the two chairs by the fire. It was all quite lovely and Saidh found her smile returning.
Reaching up, she undid the lacings of her borrowed gown as she crossed the room. Then paused by the chairs to remove it. She laid it across the back of the nearest chair with a small grimace. The gown was beautiful, but a pale yellow that had never suited her coloring. However, when Lady MacDonnell had proudly presented it, announcing that she'd worn it for her own wedding, Saidh hadn't had the heart to refuse the offering. Unfortunately, Lady MacDonnell was a larger woman than her, and had been even in her youth. The gown had been too large, hanging unattractively from her shorter, thinner frame, the bodice sagging and shoulders constantly wanting to slip off. Lady MacDonnell had pinned it in several places to rectify the problem, but the pins had slipped halfway through the ceremony and Saidh had spent the rest of the ceremony and the following feast constantly pulling the shoulders back into place and tugging at the bodice to keep from revealing more of herself than she wanted to.
Ah well, Saidh thought, as she turned to move to the bed in only the shift Lady MacDonnell had given her to wear under the gown. She had never much been concerned about fashion anyway. Besides, Greer had seemed to quite enjoy how revealing the gown had been at times.
Chuckling as she recalled the way his eyes had lit up, filling with promise each time it had happened, Saidh lifted the edge of the linens and furs and slid into bed. Hopefully she would manage at least a half hour sleep before the boys finished with their game, and then . . .
Sighing, she curled onto her side with a smile and fell asleep imagining Greer waking her with soft kisses and caresses.
A loud crash and a burst of laughter startled Saidh from a sou
nd sleep. Sitting up abruptly, she glanced around with confusion to see her brothers stumbling into the room, bearing a dead stag on their shoulders.
Saidh blinked and tilted her head. Nay not a dead stag, but Greer with stag antlers fastened to his head by a cloth that looked suspiciously like a woman's stockings. They had been wrapped around the center of the stag horns, set on the top of his head and then tied under his chin to keep them in place, she saw, as her brothers bumped about to get him through the door and his head fell, hanging toward the floor.
"Bloody hell, ye killed him!" Saidh roared, tossing the linens and furs aside and flying from the bed in a fury.
"Nay," Aulay said on a laugh and put out one hand to halt her forward motion. Leaving Greer to her other brothers, he urged her out of the way and added, "He's no' dead, just plumb fou'."
"Dougall drank him under the table," she realized with a sigh. She should have thought to warn Greer that her brothers were fond of drinking games and had become quite good at them over the years.
"Actually, he drank Dougall under the table," Aulay admitted, sounding rather impressed.
Eyebrows rising, Saidh glanced back to the brothers now laying Greer on the bed and realized that there were only six of them. Dougall was missing. No doubt snoring under the trestle table where he'd fallen, she supposed.
"And then Rory challenged him and yer husband damned near drank him under the table too." Aulay was definitely impressed, Saidh thought, and smiled with satisfaction.
"He did no'," Rory protested, and then stumbled and dropped onto the bed on top of Greer.
Saidh scowled and propped her hands on her hips, waiting for Rory to get up. Instead he merely released a loud snuffling snore.
Her other brothers immediately burst out laughing and turned toward the door.
"Oy!" Saidh bellowed. "Yer no' leaving Rory here."
"Nay, o' course we're no'," Conran said as he sailed out the door.
"We'd ne'er do a thing like that to ye, lass," Geordie assured her on his heels.
"Sorry, Saidh," was all Alick said as Niels hustled him out, pulling the door closed behind them.
"Aulay," Saidh growled, turning on her oldest brother.
"Settle yerself, lass. I'll take him away," Aulay soothed, then moved to the bed, turned Rory, and then lifted him up and slung him over his shoulder. "Get the door fer me, lass."
Saidh quickly opened the door.
"I'd apologize that yer new husband is in no fit state to tend to the consummation," Aulay said as he started toward her with his burden. Pausing beside her, he bent slightly to kiss her cheek and then straightened and continued out adding, "But since the two o' ye already enjoyed that last night and the proof is in the hall, there seems little need."
Saidh scowled at her brother's back, and then slammed the door behind him and turned to glare at her unconscious husband, her brother's laughter reaching her muffled through the door. Sighing, Saidh shook her head, then walked around the bed to get back into her side. She didn't lie down, but sat and pulled the linens and furs up to her waist, then turned her gaze on her husband.
The man looked ridiculous with the stag horns on his head. Actually, it was the cloth tied under his chin that made him look like an utter arse, Saidh decided. She hesitated, but then pushed the linens and furs down again and shifted to her knees beside him to quickly undo the ridiculous horns and remove them. Shaking her head, she tossed them to the floor, grimacing at the clatter they made. She'd probably just woken up the entire castle with that action, she thought with regret. At least, those who were sleeping--Saidh added the thought as she became aware of the music, laughter and chatter filtering up from the great hall.
There would be a lot of people with sore heads come the morning. Her husband included, she supposed. Saidh tugged a couple of the furs out from under her husband, threw them over him, and then climbed under the linens and furs again. Curling onto her side, she heaved a little sigh and closed her eyes. This was not how she'd expected her wedding night to go.
Greer opened his eyes, and then promptly closed them again with a groan as light stabbed through them and straight into his skull.
"Bloody hell, what happened?" he muttered, covering his eyes with his hands and rolling onto his side.
"Ye drank Dougall under the table, and almost did Rory too afterward, but no' quite."
Greer blinked his eyes open again and found himself staring at a rather large, hairy leg sticking out from under a green, yellow and black plaid. Startled, he pulled back and sat up at the same time, seeing the leg was attached to Aulay Buchanan's body. The man was sitting on top of the furs and linens next to him, back against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles, and arms crossed on his chest.
"What the de'il are you doing in me bed?" Greer asked with irritation.
"Well, first, I do no' believe this is yer bed," Aulay said calmly. "Although, since yer laird here, I suppose ye could argue that e'ery bed in the castle is yer bed."
Frowning, Greer glanced around and realized he wasn't in the master chamber, he was in Saidh's room, in Saidh's bed, and fully clothed.
"Where's me wife?" he growled, getting out of bed and moving to close the shutters. His head was pounding something fierce and the sunlight streaming into the room was not helping.
"She's below breaking her fast," Aulay announced, and then added with amusement, "And nay she does no' ken I'm here."
Finished with the shutters, Greer nodded and turned to eye him. "Why are ye here?"
"To welcome ye to the family," Aulay announced, swinging his legs off the bed and getting to his feet. He walked to the door, opened it, and then paused and swung back to add, "And to tell ye, do ye hurt our Saidh, I'll no' be the only Buchanan seeking to put yer head on a pike."
He didn't wait for a response, but slid out of the room, pulling the door closed silently behind him.
Greer released a small breath and then glanced down at himself. He was a muckle mess, his plaid half unpleated and hanging askew, his shirt stained with what appeared to be whiskey. Greer supposed he'd passed out with his whiskey in hand. That, or Saidh's brothers had poured their drinks on him after he'd passed out.
Grimacing, he left the room to head to his own.
"Oh Greer, good morn, son," Aunt Tilda said with a smile as he entered his room. "Did ye sleep well?"
He glanced to where she sat at Alpin's bedside, nodded and asked, "How's the lad?"
"Still feverish," Lady MacDonnell said with a sigh, reaching to caress the sleeping boy's head.
Greer frowned and then opened his chest to retrieve a fresh shirt and plaid. Slinging them over his shoulder, he then walked over to feel Alpin's head. He was warm, but not as bad as he'd been the day before and Greer relaxed and straightened. His gaze shifted to his aunt. "There's no need fer ye to sit at the boy's bedside. One o' the maids can do it."
"Oh, that's all right," Lady MacDonnell said with a smile, brushing a strand of hair off Alpin's forehead. "I do no' mind."
Greer bent to kiss her cheek lightly, murmuring, "Thank ye."
Straightening, he then headed for the door. "I'm heading to the loch to clean up. I'll no' be long."
"Ye should really order a bath up here instead. Ye'll catch yer death swimming in that cold loch," Aunt Tilda said quietly.
Greer opened his mouth to respond, and then paused abruptly as he recalled that her son had drown in the loch. In the end, he merely murmured, "Mayhap next time," and slid out of the room.
He didn't see Saidh at the table when he passed through the great hall to reach the doors. Her brothers were all there though, and every one of them was smiling or laughing as they ate and talked. It seemed they were not affected by the excessive amounts of drink they'd imbibed last night. Even Dougall, who had been the first to pass out, was chuckling at something one of the men said, looking completely untroubled by the same throbbing Greer was suffering.
Scowling to himself, Greer headed outside.
"Go
od morn, m'laird," the stable master said in greeting as he led Greer's horse out of the stables. "I saw ye coming and thought ye might be after yer wife and want yer horse."
Greer had taken the reins and started to mount, but paused with a hand on the saddle horn and one foot in the stirrups to glance to the man with surprise. "After me wife?"
"Aye. She left on her horse but moments ago," the man said with a nod. "Headed toward the loch, it looked to me."
Greer nodded and mounted his horse, his mood suddenly lifting a bit.
Saidh dove under the water and swam for a distance, then surfaced again. The water had felt ice cold when she'd first entered the loch, but she'd adjusted rather quickly and was now enjoying herself. She'd come here because it had seemed a better idea than staying at the keep and knocking her brothers' heads together. If she had to listen again to them chuckling about the fine trick they'd played on Greer last night, Saidh thought she could happily run at least one of them through. The bastards had deliberately set out to leave him an unconscious mess. Had he succeeded with Rory as he had with Dougall, then Geordie had intended to challenge him next. Saidh was not sure how they'd phrased the challenge to ensure he accepted, but whatever it was had apparently been effective.
"Ye should ne'er swim alone. If nothing else, Allen's death should tell ye that."
Saidh spun in the water to peer to shore, her eyebrows rising when she saw Greer sliding off his mount.
"Aye? And so ye ne'er swim alone then?" she asked dryly as she watched him tether his beast next to her own at the edge of the clearing. He then walked over to set a clean plaid and shirt on a boulder by the edge of the water.
"Oh, aye, all the time," he admitted with amusement as he began to remove his plaid and shirt from last night. "But I should no'."
"Then I shall make a deal with ye," Saidh offered. "You ne'er swim alone and I will no' either."
"Done," Greer agreed easily, tossing his plaid and shirt aside and pausing to prop his hands on his hips and contemplate her. "Are ye naked lass?"
"No more naked than ye are," she assured him, her gaze sliding over his body. If the man was standing there posing in the hopes of raising her lust with his magnificence . . . well, it was working, she admitted to herself with derision. Really, God had gifted him with a fine body. "Are ye just going to stand there all day, or will ye be coming in?"