Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The wedding feast took place inside the Keep later that evening and was barely better attended than the ceremony had been.
Maids scurried back and forth to make certain that the drinks were topped up and the plates were full, but conversation seemed stilted, almost careful, as though there were some matter that everyone was avoiding.
And the longer she sat there, the more certain Ailsa became that she was that very matter.
She was positioned at the head of the table, next to her new husband.
Though she hardly felt she commanded anything in the way of power as he did.
His hand rested along the back of her seat, and occasionally, he would let his fingers trace the nape of her neck.
He had a knack for identifying the most sensitive parts of her, the parts that would get a reaction, and she did not have it in her to deny him a response.
One of the clan elders, she noticed, seemed to have been muttering something to his dinner companion since she had walked in, and the two of them had been shooting glances in her direction all evening.
A part of her wanted to toss all of the food to the floor and demand to know what was being said about her, but she knew that it would only give Tavish more reason to keep her under lock and key.
Instead, she reached for the cup of ale before her and drank deep from it, catching the eye of one of the maids as she passed by and holding it up to her.
“May I have more, please?” she asked, keeping her voice as sweet as she could muster.
If she was going to survive here, then she would need to make sure that the household staff were on her side. An ally in such a place could be a powerful thing, and she was not foolish enough to make a mess of it before she’d even had a chance to get her feet under her.
She drank and drank and drank, anything to undo the knot in her chest. And every time she brought the cup to her lips, she could have sworn that she saw Tavish watching her.
She almost expected a smirk on his part, something to show her that he knew exactly why she was feeling the way she did and that he could do nothing to change it, but perhaps she was imagining it.
Every time the cup pressed against her lips, she felt his mouth there; the way he had kissed her in the chapel and how it was only the beginning of everything she knew they still had to share.
Eventually, a man approached the head of the table, not far off her age. He nodded to her in greeting, and she managed to muster a smile.
“I thought it was only right I introduce myself to the new lady,” he remarked, lowering his head. “I’m Ewan, Captain of the Guard.”
“A pleasure to meet ye, Ewan,” she replied. She furrowed her brow slightly as she ran the name around her head.
“I ken that ye likely dinnae remember me,” he went on. “But I was out wi’ ye and Callum a few times when we were bairns.”
“Oh, aye, I do!” she exclaimed, her mood brightening at once.
Catching sight of someone, however briefly, who had been part of her old life like that felt like a gift she needed to cling to with everything she had. She felt Tavish’ fingers brush against her nape again, and she could not tell if they were meant as a warning or something else entirely.
“I’m glad that ye could still become part o’ the clan,” he continued. “Callum’s loss was… it was a dreadful thing for all of us, but he’d be glad to see ye here.”
“Aye, he would be,” Tavish added, his voice measured.
She shot a look over at him; there was something loaded in his tone, something she could not quite make sense of, and frankly, she was not sure she wanted to. He had been almost silent since they had come to attend the feast, and she couldn’t help but wonder exactly where his mind was.
Though, frankly, she could have taken a good guess.
“If there’s anything ye need fae me or the guards, be sure to let me know,” Ewan continued.
She bit her lip. A part of her wanted to tell him that there was only one man that she needed protection from in this place, and it was the one she had just promised herself to, the one who had just ordered her to swear her fealty and love to him for the rest of her life.
Though, the way he touched her, she could tell that nothing as innocent as love was on his mind.
By the time Ewan had retreated, the maids were clearing the food away, and a few of the clan elders were beginning to retreat and retire to their quarters.
She could feel the claim in every glance that Tavish shot in her direction, and the creeping warmth began spreading down her back as she tried to make sense of what was going to happen next.
Her wedding night.
She knew what would be expected of her, of course she did.
She was not a fool, no matter what he might have taken her for, but she had never given herself to a man before.
She had never thought of it even when she was betrothed to Callum…
Well, they had been friends, and he would have suggested an acceptable way to approach the matter.
She hadn’t felt passion for him, but she knew she could trust him.
He would never have done anything to hurt her, and that, at least, was something she could cling to by way of comfort.
But Tavish? He seemed to hold no such sweetness towards her, and she had no idea where that would leave them.
What did he think of her? What did he expect from her?
She half-wanted to ask him, but that would have meant coming clean about what was on her mind, and she was sure he would only find some way to mock her for it.
Once the guests had left the room, she could feel the fear pulsing at the back of her mind, so all-consuming it seemed to take control of her entirely.
She felt his eyes lingering on her, practically pulsing through her skin, and she did not dare look back at him.
It felt like to acknowledge it would be to bring it to life there on the spot.
But he moved in close to her, his mouth just an inch or two from her ear, making sure that she heard every word as it passed his lips.
“It’s time, Ailsa.”
She glanced at him as he rose to his feet and offered her his arm. The perfect gentleman, or, at least, what could pass as one before he got her alone.
“Spare me the gallantries. I can find my way around—”
Again, he wouldn’t let her have the last word. He leaned in, bending over her seat, locking his eyes on hers. The proximity made her uneasy in so many ways that all she wanted to do was run far away from him.
“Remember yer vows, wife. Ye will obey, honor, provide—”
She took his hand then, only to make him stop frustrating her, and she allowed him to lead her from the Great Hall and towards their chambers upstairs. The dark smile on his face made her stomach turn.
Oh, how she hated him!
Then, she noticed how strong his arm felt under her grasp and how easy it would have been for him to take whatever he wanted from her.
Such a thing should have frightened her, she was sure of it, but it didn’t.
Instead, every time he touched her, her mind was cast back to his tongue against her lips like he was gorging himself on her and had no intentions of stopping.
When they reached his chambers, a grand bedroom at the head of the Keep that had a view of the rolling hills beyond, he moved away from her, leaving her standing in the doorway.
She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling ridiculous in her wedding dress. She was a bride, dressed for the ceremony, but what would take place in this room tonight was far from the eyes of God.
He half-turned his back to her, as if he could barely recall that she was there, and set about undressing himself; undoing the leather laces that held his shirt closed, withdrawing the dagger from his sock, and laying it on the small table next to the window.
When he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, her breath caught slightly at the sight of his bare skin.
He was strong, there was no doubt about it, probably from all the time he had spent training with swords and axes; the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed as he moved, stripping down until he was in nothing but his kilt.
She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest, frozen to the spot as she waited for him to turn his attention to her.
And it didn’t take long till he did. He cast a gaze around to her, catching her eyeing him, and a grin spread over his face.
“I didnae take ye for a voyeur, lass,” he teased as he closed the distance between them.
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, looking away. “I’m nae.”
“Ye’d rather be involved, then?” he asked, leaning on the wall beside her.
He did not make a move to touch her, though some part of her wished he would. At least, then, she would be able to get it over with instead of standing at this strange distance, waiting for him to make his move.
“Ye should undress, wife,” he murmured, nodding to the dress that still served as some protection between him and his roving gaze.
She shook her head. “Tavish—”
“I can help wi’ that,” he cut in, and he moved towards her, grasping her by the waist to turn her away from him.
She sucked in a sharp breath at his touch, staring at the wall before her, the delicate details in the enormous red tapestry that covered most of the wall before her.
She felt his fingers tugging at the ties that held her dress shut, and she swallowed hard, willing herself not to react, not to let him see the effect he was having on her.
Once he had undone the laces, the dress fell apart, exposing a narrow V of skin at her back. Even though he could see little more of her than he had when she had been dressed, she suddenly felt vulnerable, utterly laid out and exposed before him.