Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“She better be here soon.”
Arthur turned, snarling at McKellen. The man had arrived before the cèilidh had started and without the rest of the council, making a bold move.
Arthur had tried hard to placate him, assuring him that his bride-to-be was getting ready for the celebration with her family and his and that she’d be arriving shortly. But as more clansmen arrived, as well as the rest of the council, McKellen had grown more and more insufferable.
“Ye will stop makin’ demands of me, Councilman,” Arthur hissed, bringing his face as close as he dared to the other man’s. “I have done nothin’ but try to be accommodatin’ to ye and the council. But I am at me last straw, and ye willnae like what will happen if I break.”
McKellen’s eyes narrowed on him. “Is that a threat?”
He puffed out his chest, but he couldn’t disguise the way the color had drained from his face.
“It is a promise,” Arthur threatened. “If ye keep disrespectin’ me and makin’ demands of me that arenae yers to make, I will show ye just how much the Savage Laird’s blood runs in me veins.”
It was the wrong thing to say, Arthur knew it the moment the words had left his lips. Using his father’s old nickname, the one that had earned him a reputation of terror rather than respect, had ruined the exact point he had been trying to make.
“That blood is exactly what we’re afraid of,” McKellen said, despite the fear on his face.
Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but the din of the crowd cut him off. The general hum of many people talking at once suddenly died down, and his attention was diverted.
From the raised platform he’d been standing on, the one that held the Laird’s high table, he could see all the way to the arch that opened into the gardens.
There was a group of women standing within it, and immediately his eyes fell on Marissa.
She was at the center. Her hair, which was usually a curly auburn mass that looked windswept around her head, had been meticulously braided away from her face.
Delicate white flowers had been placed within the plaits, along with a strip of tartan that perfectly matched the draping around her skirts.
The bodice of her gown hugged her curvy figure, stirring heat into his belly.
She looks ravishing.
And Arthur couldn’t deny, as she and the women accompanying her walked through the archway and into the courtyard, that he wanted nothing more than to ravish her.
He watched from his perch above the crowd as people ducked their heads and whispered. There were a few that pointed at her, gesturing to the crest of Clan Reid that decorated the sash across her chest.
“That’s her,” he heard one of them whisper.
Arthur noted the awe that filled their voices, and it stroked the pride bubbling up inside him.
“Excuse me,” he growled to McKellen, “I have to go see me bride.”
He didn’t wait for the man to respond, just left him standing with a gaping maw as he watched her cross the courtyard.
By the time Arthur reached Marissa, the crowd had converged on her. Michael and Cody, who up until that moment had been holding court with Joseph by the buffet table, had found the others.
“What did the council say?” Joseph’s voice sounded from close by, and Arthur turned toward it.
His brother was standing at his side, looking at him expectantly as the two men finally joined the group.
“They’ve been pesterin’ me about meetin’ her,” Arthur answered.
Marissa turned to look at him as he placed his hand on the small of her back. The moment her soft brown eyes locked onto him, his mouth went dry.
He swallowed thickly, giving her a sardonic smirk. “Glad to see ye lassies finally decided to join us,” he said. “We thought ye were goin’ spend half the night tryin’ to bonnie yerselves up.”
“We’re bonnie enough, thank ye,” Ayla interjected, having overheard what he’d just said.
He chuckled darkly but did not take his eyes off Marissa.
She looked even more stunning up close. His clansmen pressed in, everyone clamoring to get a look at their new lady.
“She’s bonnie!”
“Aye, looks like the right sort.”
“But can she dance?”
The jeers of his people filled the air around them, and Arthur couldn’t help but smirk.
“Seems they’ve taken a fancy to ye,” he muttered under his breath, pulling Marissa a little closer to his side.
He was rewarded with a throaty chuckle.
“They hardly even ken me,” she argued, but her tone was light. Then, she raised her voice and called out, “And I need ye to ken that I can dance with the best of them!”
A roar of laughter erupted around them, a few of his men raising their goblets into the air in a toast.
There was a gap in the crowd that Arthur was able to see through. McKellen had apparently joined the other council members, who were all standing along the edges of the courtyard.
Their heads were bowed together, many of their eyes fixed on where Arthur, Marissa, and her family now stood. Quite a few of them, including Councilman Shaw, were nodding their heads in approval.
No doubt that was the reason behind the sour look on McKellen’s face. His eyes were narrowed and flinty as he glared daggers at Arthur from across the courtyard.
Filled with bravado, Arthur raised the mug in his hand, giving McKellen a toast before bringing it to his lips and drinking heartily. The whisky burned as it slid down his throat, and he delighted in it.
The sound of a bagpipe filled the air, grabbing everyone's attention.
“Oh, Cody!” Abigail cried, throwing her arms around her nephew’s shoulders. “It’s about time we start dancin’. Is it nae grand!”
Arthur’s eyes flicked to the young man, but his gaze wasn’t fixed on Abigail at all. Rather, Cody’s attention was focused solely on Amara as he spoke.
“Aye,” he murmured in a voice so low it was hard to make out through the din of the revelry. “It will be mighty grand, indeed.”
I wonder if the lad has found himself enamored by me sister’s maid.
Marissa pressed closer to him, her side brushing gently against his hip, chasing the thought from his mind almost as quickly as it had come. The crowd pushed against him, pressing her closer to him.
There was a tightening beneath his kilt, and he shifted so as not to draw attention.
“Will ye be dancin’ with me tonight?” Marissa asked, her voice husky as it floated over the chatter and music. “Or will ye be glowerin’ in a corner because ye’re nae a good dancer?”
“I’m a fine dancer, just nae as good as ye” Arthur grumbled. “And it’ll be ye who will have to try to keep up.”
Marissa chuckled. “Have ye been practicin’ then? In all the free time ye’ve had since we’ve gotten here?”
She covered her mouth and laughed to herself, the sight of her so lovely and bright stirring something deeper within him.
“And when do ye think I’d have had time to practice?” he quipped.
An unruly curl had slipped free from one of her braids, landing on the side of her face. Her skin was soft beneath his fingertips as he swept it back, tucking it behind her ear.
Arthur wasn’t certain, but he could have sworn that when he touched her, she’d shifted. Leaning into his touch ever so slightly, before her eyes went wide.
“Excuse me,” a child’s voice sounded above the din of the crowd. “M’Lady?”
Arthur looked around, seeing Marissa doing the same, until their eyes landed on a young girl who had somehow wound her way through the adults to stand directly in the center of their group.
She was tugging on Marissa’s skirts, looking up at her with big blue eyes filled with wonder and awe.
His future wife did not miss a beat. She sank down, putting herself at eye level with the child, and her lips stretched into a warm, friendly grin.
The crowd around them paused, each person paying rapt attention to the woman who would soon be the lady of their clan. Arthur scanned the people around them and spotted the council still standing on the raised platform, watching just as eagerly as everyone else.
“Greetings,” Marissa said, her tone light and friendly. “And who might ye be?”
“Me name is Fiona,” the young girl replied. “And I thought ye should ken that ye’re mighty bonnie.”
Marissa laughed, the sound of it so light and melodic it would have rivaled the most beautiful tinkering of bells.
“Is that so?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
When Fiona nodded, Marissa reached into her hair, expertly plucking one of the small white buds that had been tucked between the strands.
“Well,” she continued, her voice kind and clear, “I think that ye’re the bonniest thing here.”
She tucked the flower behind the girl’s ear. The moment it was nestled amongst her blonde locks, Fiona beamed.
“Do ye really think that?” the girl asked, her grin so wide it seemed like it might split her cheeks.
Marissa’s eyes went wide, her face showing nothing but sincerity as she nodded.
“Do ye want to ken what makes ye so bonnie?” she asked, waiting long enough for Fiona to nod eagerly before continuing.
“Because ye have a kind heart. Kindness is the bonniest thing a lassie can have. If ye’ve got a kind heart”—she raised a finger and pointed it directly at the girl’s chest—“then ye’ve got everythin’ ye need in the world. Will ye remember that?”
Once again, Fiona nodded eagerly.
Marissa didn’t have time to react before the young girl threw her slender arms around her neck. It took only a second before Marissa returned the hug, patting the girl on the back softly.
Arthur watched, noting that Marissa’s mouth was still moving. She was saying something to the girl that only she could hear.
When their hug broke, Fiona stepped out of her arms. She stared at Marissa for only a moment more, giving her a rather exaggerated wink and a nod, before turning and scurrying back through the crowd.
Marissa straightened, her hands working to smooth down her skirts. She seemed oblivious to the people around them. Oblivious to the fact that they were still watching her, murmuring amongst themselves about the display they’d all just witnessed from their new lady.
But Arthur did not miss it. He strained his ears, curiosity getting the better of him.
He wanted to know what they were saying. Was dying to find out what they thought about the woman who would soon be their lady.
“The lass was right. Bonnie as can be, that one.”
“Did ye see how she hugged the wee thing? Has the makings of a great lady, she does.”
“And did ye see how she gave her that flower? So sweet.”
All the sentiments were the same. Each bit of conversation that Arthur was able to pick up was filled with nothing but praise.
A bubble of pride began to warm his chest. His eyes flickered back to the platform. The council was still there. Many of their heads were bowed together, but two were looking at him—Shaw and McKellen. The former seemed eager, the latter seemed sour.
Arthur could only guess at how the conversation was going.
When his eyes locked onto Councilman Shaw’s, the man nodded his head in a clear command to come and join them.
Arthur turned, his gaze immediately falling on Marissa. She was deep in conversation with Abigail, her face animated as her arms moved with excitement.
He hated to interrupt her when she was like this—so carefree and seemingly unaware of those around her—but it couldn’t be helped.
May as well get this introduction to the council over with. Then, we can go about enjoyin’ the rest of our night.
Placing his hand on the small of her back, Arthur interrupted their conversation. The moment he touched her, heat flared through him.
It had been like that ever since the other night when he’d knelt between her thighs and tasted every bit of her pleasure. Every time she was close, he found himself on the precipice of madness.
But Arthur had promised her that he would not pressure her. He had promised that he would not attempt anything else, not until she was well and truly certain that she wanted him to.
And it was a promise he intended to keep.
Pushing the desire deep down inside him, he cleared his throat. Marissa halted mid-sentence, and her soft brown eyes flicked to him in question.
“It’s time for ye to meet the council,” he announced.
The excitement that had been on her face just a second ago was snuffed out like a flame, replaced with worry and confusion.
“Now?” she asked. When he nodded, her face paled. “Can we nae wait for a little while? Maybe they should see me enjoyin’ the night? Or dancin’? Or talkin’ to people? Mayhap—”
“They’ve seen enough,” Arthur interrupted.