Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“But they’ve hardly seen anythin’!” Marissa retorted, her voice rising with each syllable.
Arthur put his hands on her shoulders, causing her to focus entirely on him.
“They are goin’ to approve of ye,” he said sternly.
He didn’t want her working herself up into a fit, not when she would be nervous enough without her allowing herself to spiral.
“It’s goin’ to be all right,” Abigail chimed in from beside them. “Surely they saw what happened between ye and that sweet, wee thing—Fiona. Mayhap that will improve their opinion of ye.”
“They were watchin’,” Arthur grunted.
He studied Marissa’s face, seeing that some of the panic had left it, and he allowed his hands to fall from her shoulders. One, however, still snaked around her waist to bring her a little closer to him.
He pressed a little on the small of her back, beginning to guide her gently through the crowd. She cast a quick, worried glance at her sister, before walking along with him.
“Ye ken for certain that they were watchin’?” she asked, her tone betraying every ounce of her worry.
Arthur nodded. “They were, and almost all of them looked impressed. And they should be.”
“What do ye mean?”
He shot her a sidelong glance. Marissa was chewing on her bottom lip, wringing her hands in front of her.
Quickly taking in their surroundings, he stopped, pulling her up short. The crowd milled around them, briefly obscuring them from the view of the council.
“They should be impressed,” he said earnestly, “because ye had nay reason to be as kind to that lass as ye were. Most in that situation would have just thanked the wee thing and then sent her on her way. But ye didnae. Ye took yer time with her, made her feel special. That was nay small thing.”
He studied her face. She still looked uncertain, but at least she had stopped fidgeting with her hands, and he took that as a sign that he was getting to her.
“Ye did everythin’ right,” he assured her, making sure to keep his tone steady.
As he spoke, he willed her to listen to him. Sending silent commands in the air between them for his words to seep into her. Praying that they would imbue her with a little bit of courage. Or, if not courage, that they would at least assuage some of her more pervasive worries.
“They watched ye be kind to someone who could do nothin’ for ye,” Arthur continued.
“And that is the mark of a good lady. Because how ye treat people who have somethin’ to offer ye means nothin’.
It’s how ye treat the commonfolk, how ye treat those that society would deem beneath ye, that says more about yer character than anythin’ else ever could.
And in that moment, ye showed them that yer character is good. Do ye hear me?”
Marissa considered his words for a moment.
The change was subtle at first. The dropping of her hands to her sides.
The straightening of her spine. But it was when she finally stopped anxiously chewing on her bottom lip and her brown eyes flicked to his that Arthur finally knew that he had gotten to her.
He arched an eyebrow. “Are ye ready?”
Marissa held his gaze, her brown eyes twinkling. She nodded once before turning in the direction of the council.
They resumed walking, the crowd parting for them as they made their way to the raised platform.
The center of the courtyard had become a dance floor, bodies throwing themselves to and fro as people celebrated. A few waved at them, giving Marissa the opportunity to wave back.
Arthur watched as his bride-to-be won over his clansfolk with a few, well-placed warm smiles. By the time they reached the platform, the council had stopped whatever they’d been discussing. All five of them had their eyes fixed on Arthur and Marissa, clearly waiting patiently for their arrival.
Marissa executed a quick, respectful bow, before raising her head to look at them. “It is a pleasure to finally meet the esteemed council,” she said in a clear, confident voice. “Thank ye for attendin’ the cèilidh.”
McKellen’s eyes were narrowed on her, but it was Councilman Shaw who spoke.
“Thank ye for the words of welcome, Lady Marissa,” he said, his tone patient and welcoming. “And it was nay trouble at all. We wouldnae miss the opportunity to welcome our new lady into our clan.”
“And what a show ye’ve put on,” McKellen sneered.
Arthur bristled. His hand was still on Marissa’s back, so he felt it when she stiffened.
I willnae let him disrespect her. McKellen will be dinin’ on his teeth if he says somethin’ like that again.
His fingers flexed, trying to inject some of his strength into her. But Marissa quickly proved that she did not need it.
She cocked her head to the side. Arthur risked a glance at her, immediately noting the quizzical look on her lovely features.
“A show?” she echoed, voice filled with mock innocence. “I dinnae ken what ye mean.”
“With the lass,” McKellen grumbled. He nodded his head toward the revelers, in the direction they’d all been standing when she’d interacted with Fiona. “What? Did ye ask her to come up and greet ye? Wanted to make a good impression?”
Arthur expected Marissa to become indignant. He certainly would have. He expected her to raise her voice, to insist that she had done no such thing and that it was an insult to even suggest it.
But that was not the approach she took.
Her head remained cocked to the side, a smile dancing on her lips.
“Me apologies, Councilman,” she said, her voice as even and as placating as ever. “But ye must think quite lowly of yer clan if ye think they’d agree to trick ye like that.”
McKellen’s eyes went wide, and he began sputtering. Arthur’s gaze flicked to the other council members, finding varying expressions of surprise and amusement on their faces.
He could not have been more proud.
McKellen opened his mouth again, no doubt readying himself for another retort. Shaw, however, stepped forward, placing his hand on McKellen’s shoulder.
“We assure ye,” Councilman Shaw interjected in a magnanimous tone, “we dinnae think lowly of ye or our people. And I apologize if me fellow councilman’s comment caused offense. We are, understandably, protective of our clan.”
Marissa’s eyes flicked to Shaw, and she raised her chin, regarding him with the confidence of a queen.
“It is me understandin’ that the Laird has done well at protectin’ his people for quite some time now,” she responded without missing a beat. “Do ye think he would bring someone in that would cause them harm? That would seek to fool all of them as well as ye?”
Arthur watched Councilman Shaw closely. He’d expected the man to bristle at her words. Instead, there was a glimmer of amusement in the old man’s eyes, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.
His words had been a test. And it was a test that me betrothed clearly passed.
“I believe we’ve heard quite enough,” he said, his tone even and calm.
McKellen glared at him, narrowing his eyes. But whatever he’d been about to say died on his tongue as his mouth snapped shut.
Shaw and the rest of the council focused their attention on Marissa, who did not flinch under the weight of their scrutiny.
“And I believe I speak for the rest of the council,” Shaw continued, throwing a quick glance around at the men standing beside him, “when I say ‘Welcome to Clan Reid,’ Lady Marissa. I believe ye will serve us well.”
Marissa’s cheeks flushed with happiness as she bowed her head to him in respect. “I will do me very best,” she answered, her words sincere.
Arthur shot McKellen a gloating look, before delicately guiding her away from the council and back into the crowd.
Her family was standing off to the side. Even from a distance, Arthur could see them watching them with rapt attention.
Abigail had her hands pressed to her lips—trying to disguise a grimace or a smile, Arthur could not tell. Freya had her arm looped through Michael’s, absentmindedly rubbing her belly as she watched. Cody stood a little off to the side.
He was the only one not paying full attention to what had occurred between Marissa and the council. Instead, he was standing with Ayla and Amara, deep in conversation with the two women.
As Arthur and Marissa approached, he kept his gaze fixed on the young man. Even though Cody was clearly speaking to Ayla, Arthur didn’t miss the fact that the lad’s eyes kept flicking to Amara.
They were monitoring her for every reaction, eagerly waiting to see how she would respond to every word that fell from his lips.
Arthur huffed an amused chuckle, making a mental note to bring it up to Marissa later that night.
“How did it go?” Freya asked, the moment he and Marissa were within earshot.
“Did ye tell the sour-faced one to shove off?” Abigail squawked with barely concealed amusement. “I noticed he didnae look too pleased while ye were speakin’. But the others seemed to love whatever it was ye said.”
“Dinnae worry,” Marissa said airily, “I let them all ken exactly what I was made of.”
“She handled it flawlessly,” Arthur chimed in.
Marissa turned to him, her mouth open in surprise at the praise. “Have I gone barmy?” she gasped, feigning surprise. “Or did ye just give me a compliment?”
Arthur made quite the show of rearranging his features in a scowl. “Dinnae get used to it,” he grumbled, prompting her to laugh.
The music swelled, making it impossible for anyone else to speak. Which was just as well.
After the success of Marissa’s meeting with the council, Arthur didn’t feel like talking. He reached down and took her hand. With a gentle tug, he began guiding her toward the center of the courtyard.
She cast a glance over her shoulder, and Arthur spotted her sisters waving at her, yelling for her to go have fun.
The crowd moved around them, parting like water as they found their way toward where everyone was dancing. As they reached the very center, Arthur raised his arm and spun her.
A peel of laughter flew from Marissa’s lips, and her entire face lit up with a smile.
“Ye have been practicin’,” she yelled over the music.
Arthur shook his head but did not answer. He pulled her into his arms and spun her again.
Her hands fluttered up to his chest, her palms pressing just over his rapidly beating heart as their bodies began to move together. Her eyes grew hooded, desire darkening them as they remained locked.
“I dinnae need to practice,” Arthur murmured, his voice low and husky as he brought his mouth to her ear.
They were pressed closely enough that he was able to feel the shiver that ran through her.
“Ye certainly needed practice after the last time we danced.”
Arthur could hear the attempt at humor in her voice, but it was too thick with need for the joke to hold any weight. He shrugged.
“Then I suppose ye’ll just have to keep dancin’ with me,” he growled. “That way, I can get me practice in.”
He held her hand tightly, moving back as he twirled her again.
He didn’t care what happened from that moment on, as long as he was able to keep moving and dancing the night away with his soon-to-be wife.