Chapter 4
Kayden carried his bride in his arms, walking slowly up the stairs while her lady’s maid followed anxiously behind.
Lilliana had regained consciousness only for a moment, looking discomposed and befuddled.
“Here,” Moira said, and gave her a cup of laudanum to calm her down.
“Thank you,” Lilliana had managed to eke out before fainting again.
Kayden did not want to look down at her, but could not help himself. She felt so soft and small in his arms. And warm.
He felt a curious protectiveness take root in his chest, seeing her curled up into him, her long lashes covering her expressive eyes.
It was strange, feeling protective of a woman who had literally fainted because she had married him, but this was different from the obligation he owed to her father. Now, he owed it to her and only her.
This is me fault.
Kayden took a deep breath as he stopped at her door and let the lady’s maid step around to open it for him. He walked over to her bed and laid her down gently. He stared down at her for a moment, her body loose and sprawled out.
He could not help the way his eyes raked over her. He bent down again and ran a finger down her face.
“Ye will be fine, lass,” he whispered before straightening.
He shifted his gaze to the lady’s maid, who was discreetly trying to take Lilliana’s shoes off. “Let me ken when she wakes, Betsy,” he said.
She nodded. “I will, My Laird.”
He inclined his head before crossing to the door. He hesitated another moment, looking back at his wife. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and left her to her maid’s ministrations, against his instincts.
Lilliana startled awake, looking around in bewilderment before realizing she was lying on her bed, in her chambers, in Malgrave Castle. Movement in the periphery of her vision made her jump before she realized that it was just Betsy standing up from the chair. Her maid looked anxious and scared.
“My Lady! How are you feeling?” she asked.
Lilliana reached a hand up to rub her forehead. “What happened, Betsy?”
“You fainted!” Betsy cried in what could be misconstrued as an accusatory tone, but upon closer examination, Lilliana heard the panic underneath.
“I am sorry. I…” she trailed off, not knowing what to say. “How did I get here?” she asked instead.
“The Laird carried you!” Betsy said with a little skip, her eyes glinting.
Lilliana’s brow furrowed as she remembered the strong hands around her waist. She also remembered thinking she had imagined that. Her stomach churned with confusion and disappointment as she realized that a man had held her close for the first time and she had missed it.
Then she pushed that thought away because why in God’s name should she care?
Taking a deep breath, she focused on Betsy. “Where is he now?” she blurted, though that was not at all what she meant to say.
Her feelings ebbed and flowed between desire for his concern and denial of wanting it.
She looked towards the door that stood between her chambers and the next one.
“Might that be the Laird’s chamber, Betsy?” she asked with resignation, pointing towards the door.
Betsy cocked an eyebrow at her but said nothing.
Slowly, Lilliana shuffled out of bed and walked to the door. It was made of heavy iron, and when she turned the handle, she found that she could not open it. She looked for a key and found none. She put her ear to the door, listening intently.
He must have locked it from the other side.
With a shrug, she turned away from it. “Help me take this gown off,” she told Betsy.
She was tired of putting herself on display for others. The ceremony was over, and now she wanted to go back to being just Lilly for a while.
Betsy came to her and began to undo the many small buttons at the back of the gown. “What do you think will happen tonight?” she asked.
Lilliana gave a helpless shrug. “I hardly know, do I?”
Betsy had either purposefully or accidentally not given in to Lilliana’s gruff tone as she continued bustling around the room.
“I do not even have a trousseau. What am I supposed to do?” she sighed, standing up to lay out a brush.
“Do you think they have the same traditions as us?” Betsy turned to smile at Lilliana, who shook her head helplessly as she sat on the bed.
Betsy laid out a simple muslin gown for Lilliana to wear, with a plaid to ward off the cold.
Lilliana found that she was angry at Kayden for not informing them of what to expect. She did not even know if she was dressed appropriately. It was infuriating.
He is the one who wanted this marriage. Surely he should let us know what is to come next.
As she finished dressing, there was a knock at the door. Lilliana jumped, back straightening as she stared expectantly at it, ready to give Kayden a piece of her mind. Betsy hurried to open the door, and Lilliana’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, as it was Moira who stepped into the room.
“I brought ye some tea, Me Lady. And something small to eat,” she said, putting a tray on the side table. “Supper will be served later in the evening, where we shall toast to yer marriage, but the Laird thought perhaps ye hadnae eaten enough, and that is why ye fainted.”
Lilliana had no answer to that. It was true that she had been unable to think about eating before the wedding, what with her stomach in knots, but she was also sure that was not why she fainted.
“Where is the Laird now?” she asked.
“The Laird is attending to clan business. He sends his apologies for nae attending to ye himself.”
Lilliana gave Moira a sidelong glance. She doubted that Kayden had sent any apologies, but decided to keep her own counsel on that.
Moira pointed to the tray. “Eat,” she urged.
Lilliana looked down at the plate, picking up the cake-like pastry they called bannocks and taking a bite. She was not really fond of Scottish food, but she did not feel sufficiently hungry to ask for something else. She took a sip of the tea, and suddenly she was starving.
Having tried everything on the tray, devouring some bits more than others, Lilliana reflected on the fact that she would have to get used to this new food.
Her usual cucumber sandwiches and honey cakes with cups of tea were probably a thing of the past. In the time she had been in Scotland, she noticed that they preferred bannocks and ale to break their fast.
Once Lilliana was done eating, Moira picked up the tray, but then paused.
“I ken ye had yer heart set on treating the villagers, Me Lady. I daenae ken if the Laird will let ye do that, but ye can always take over the healer’s duties.
It will be a big help to me, and I can inform him when he is most busy,” she said with a wink.
Lilliana looked at the housekeeper curiously.
“Betsy, dear, will ye grab Her Ladyship’s herbs and tinctures, please?” the housekeeper said before both women followed her out of the room.
Lilliana heard the click of her door before she spoke again. “Are you a healer too?”
Moira shrugged ahead of her. “I ken a thing or two, but now that Old Fergus cannae get up and down the steps, I have had to step in for the most part.”
They walked down the southern corridor, which seemed seldom used, judging by the lack of lit torches. All the light came from a large square opening at the end of the corridor.
A cloud of dust rose in the air as Moira entered the healer’s quarters after struggling quite a bit with the door.
Betsy and Lilliana followed behind, trying their best to tread lightly so as not to disturb more dust. The shelves were mostly empty, though there were a few musty-looking bottles standing on them.
If this place were to be used for healing, it would need a thorough cleaning. Still, Lilliana was grateful. Having something to do might heal some of her melancholy, and it was more than her father had ever offered her.
She turned to the housekeeper. “Thank you for this, Moira.”
Moira nodded. “Ye’re welcome, Me Lady. I will come fetch ye later for supper. Feel free to look around.”
Kayden was sitting at the high table with the man she recognized as Jacob to his left.
Lilliana hesitated a moment, unsure of where to go, until he looked up and gestured for her to take the seat to his right. She sat down and gave a wan smile to the table at large.
The man on his other side smiled at her. “Welcome, Me Lady. We havenae yet been introduced. Me name is Jacob McGill. I am yer dear husband’s cousin, which makes ye and I cousins as well.” He grinned at her, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Lilliana was in no mood for jokes, so she simply nodded. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jacob,” she said softly.
Jacob’s eyes softened as he studied her keenly. “It is all a bit new and different, I ken, but ye will adapt. Give it time.”
She was surprised at his compassion and that he said those words aloud, what with Kayden sitting between them. Her father never would have tolerated such disrespect from one of his subordinates. Kayden seemed unmoved by the implication that she was unhappy.
Does he not realize that it reflects badly on him?
To her surprise, he turned to face her. “Me cousin is right. Things seem strange now because ye werenae expecting all of this. But ye will settle. Daenae fash.”
She blinked at him, even more nonplussed. “Er, thank you for saying that. Does that mean you have changed your mind about me helping the villagers?”
He gave an enigmatic smirk. “As I said, time will tell.”
She stared at him, too tired to argue. Turning to the table, she picked up her spoon and ate the broth that had been placed in front of her, along with freshly baked bread. They even had some butter and cheese to go with it.
After the food was cleared away, the tables were moved out of the way. Lilliana made to leave, but Kayden closed a hand around her wrist to stop her.
“Daenae ye want to stay and hear the bard?” he asked.
She looked down at his fingers, so large they made her hand look small. His warmth seeped into her skin, making her own feel hot and prickly.
Suppressing a shiver, she cleared her throat. “I do not know your language. I probably would not understand anything.”
“Ach, ye daenae have to understand the lyrics to enjoy the music. Stay.”
Her eyes widened a bit in surprise that he was so insistent on her company. Heart beating a little too fast, face flushed, and hands trembling slightly, she slowly sat back down.
Kayden nodded in approval, leaning back in his seat, and then spent the rest of the evening aiming his remarks at Jacob. It was a puzzle to her, but she tried not to dwell on it.
The bard had a beautiful voice. She tried to focus on that and not on the large presence by her side, the heat of him radiating around her, making the fireplace unnecessary.
The scent of him, oak and smoke and sweat, and something else just underneath, suffused her senses.
She did not want to be so aware of him, but she could not help herself.
She hardly knew what to think or how to feel about this man—her husband—whom she had married just that day, who had carried her to her rooms and now barely spoke to her as they sat side by side on the evening of their wedding day.
She studied him discreetly, wondering what it was about him that evoked such strong reactions from her.
Kayden leaned towards her. “Are ye well, Lilliana?” he asked.
She cast a glance at him, wondering why he would address her in such a way. There was worry beneath his tone that she did not understand.
“I am fine. Tired.”
“Would ye like someone to escort ye to yer chambers?”
Her brow furrowed, and she mumbled softly, “First, you want me to stay, and now you want me to go.”
“What was that?” he asked, though he had clearly heard her.
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I can find my way.”