Chapter Five #3
He contemplated me with a look of mild exasperation. “I hardly find your scowling grimace a cause worth rejoicing over.”
I stared at him, attempting to control not only my unease but also my temper. How rude he was! “I’m sorry if it displeases you, but as used to subservience as I may be, I don’t consider a forced union a cause for celebration. I had hoped to marry for love.”
“We all do,” he commented. “Yet we’d be wise to make the best of our situation, no matter how difficult it may be for either one of us.”
I felt a sense of quiet outrage at his statement.
Of course that was easy enough for him to say.
His situation was hardly difficult. He had just entitled himself to the impending lairdship of our growing, prospering clan, giving him total control over not only our army and our resources, but also...
well, me. If his reputation as a ruthless warrior had any credence whatsoever, I had no doubt he would avail himself of all his new endowments with gusto, me included.
It was with a sense of resignation that I quietly asked him, “And how do you propose to do that?”
He paused, sitting back in his chair, as though considering the question thoughtfully. “I had thought to start by drinking some ale with my new wife and discussing the evening’s proceedings, yet she wears a sullen expression and appears to be less of a conversationalist than I had hoped.”
My new husband was an absolute ogre! Any ethereal attraction I might once have felt for Kade Mackenzie abruptly vanished. “I’m so sorry to disappoint,” I replied icily.
“I’m experiencing a wide variety of emotions over our nuptials, lass, but I can assure you disappointment is not one of them.”
I eyed him warily, noticing the strong stripes of his eyebrows, his straight nose, the hard line of his jaw.
The cords of his neck were pronounced and his arms strained the white cloth of his shirt as he, unnervingly, clenched his fist. His eyes were narrowed slightly in casual speculation as though he were having as much difficulty interpreting my thoughts as I was baffled by his.
I wanted to ask him what emotions he might be referring to, yet I was restrained by one detail of his phrasing that echoed disconcertingly in my mind: the evening’s proceedings.
Before I could dare to ask him to elaborate, we were interrupted by the servers, who brought heaped plates of food to our table and placed them before us.
Laird Mackenzie stood, presenting an eloquent speech, welcoming me into the Mackenzie family and waxing lyrical about the bright future of our allied clans.
I tried to adjust my expression to one of gladness, however forced, not to appease my husband—not at all—but out of respect for my clan members.
It would hardly do, after all, to sulk through the speeches.
There would be plenty of time for that later.
As I listened first to Laird Mackenzie’s speech and then my father’s, I surveyed the crowd.
I hoped my sacrifice would benefit my people.
I knew my father’s failing health had negatively impacted our clan’s general well-being.
Glenlochie was looking somewhat unkempt.
The army was less organized. Food, of late, was less plentiful than in past years.
And there was the ongoing threat of Laird Campbell’s rebellion against the King of Scotland.
I hoped our alliance would deter the rebellion, and that my new husband would prove to be an effective leader, as his brother was.
If the appearance of Kinloch was anything to go by, the Mackenzie clan was indeed prosperous.
The manor was spotless and well equipped.
The bounty of food and drink was enviable.
There was lamb and beef, duck and pheasant.
Bowls of exotic fresh fruits were displayed on the tables, and a wide variety of vegetables, grown in the Mackenzie gardens, were sumptuously flavored with herbs and butter.
Fresh-baked breads were abundant and garnished with seeds and nuts.
And the staff and servants worked as an amiable, cooperative team.
I hoped Kade Mackenzie could bring order and a new vigor to our keep, and introduce a fresh optimism to our clan.
It was worth the sacrifice I was making: my body and my obedience.
Maybe I could find happiness outside my marriage.
Maybe Maisie was right: Kade might stray, and my life might be bearable outside the bedchambers, when I was away from my coarse husband.
And so my thoughts trod as I ate and talked and smiled and drank the ale that was offered to me, late into the evening.
In fact, I found that, at times, when I was briefly separated from my husband and surrounded by the buoyant excitement of my sisters and friends, I was mildly enjoying myself.
That is, until I heard the low, distinctive voice whisper in my ear.
“Stella.” Again, I felt a twinge of wishful familiarity.
“Wife, I must ask you to accompany me now. ’Tis time for bed. ”