Chapter Fifteen
The great room looked nothing short of magical.
Garlands of greenery, woven through with spring blossoms, spilled across the mantels in artful cascades.
In the center of the long trestle tables, arrangements of wildflowers and fragrant herbs glowed softly in the candlelight.
Dozens of taper candles flickered from wrought iron sconces, bathing the hall in a golden warmth that softened every edge and made the very air shimmer in celebration.
Above the doorways, branches wrapped in colorful fabric ribbons arched like festive crowns, swaying gently each time a draft moved through the gathering.
The soft scrape of benches, the rise and fall of cheerful conversation, and the lively thrum of the fiddle and pipes created a harmony that seemed to echo in her bones.
With her arm threaded securely through Liam’s, Beitris let him guide her around the room, their steps slow as they paused to greet each guest. Every congratulatory smile, every lifted cup raised in their honor, only heightened the surreal haze she’d been floating in since morning.
The vows, spoken before a sober-faced clergyman whose expression suggested he’d rather be mucking out the sheep pen, had bound them as husband and wife.
Husband and wife. The words still rang like a distant bell in her mind.
Even while being fitted into her wedding gown and having flowers and ribbons wound through her hair, she had refused to truly believe it.
She’d been so certain that something would halt the wedding.
She’d barely been able to stand upright during the ceremony for fear her knees would buckle.
But several cups of honeyed mead had worked their magic. Warmth blossomed in her chest, excitement bubbling through her so brightly she felt she might burst from it.
A lively tune was struck and guests hurried to the dance floor, skirts swirling and boots stomping.
Liam gave her a look that was half hopeful, half mischievous, and led her to the center of the room.
The dancers parted, creating a circle around them as if this moment, this dance, belonged to them alone.
To her amusement, the consummate rogue, the man who could charm the apron off any lass within the land, danced like a man trying to avoid stepping on a chicken.
His steps were careful, concentrated, and terribly awkward.
Beitris couldn’t help her laughter, and soon Liam was laughing with her, especially each time he narrowly avoided stepping on her toes.
When the dance ended, her cheeks hurt from smiling.
As they stepped away from the floor, Beitris spotted her mother waving her over with the enthusiasm of someone who had clearly been enjoying the festivities and the mead. Ailith and Effie flanked her, flush-faced and grinning from ear to ear.
“Mam is calling me. I will see what she needs,” Beitris told Liam. He nodded, still smiling, though there was a spark in his eyes that made her heart flutter.
She reached her mother, only to have all three women surround her like co-conspirators.
“’Tis time,” her mother announced, wiggling her brows in a way that instantly put Beitris on edge.
“Time for what?” Beitris asked, dread creeping up her spine.
Effie groaned dramatically. “Must I say it out loud? Sakes, he’s my brother. I dinnae wish to think about it.”
Realization hit Beitris so fast her entire face heated as if she’d stepped too close to a bonfire. The bedding. Saints preserve her.
Before she could consider fleeing, she was whisked down a corridor into a small chamber. Inside, a neatly folded night rail lay across the bed, Ailith’s doing, surely. Her mother clapped her hands together, far too cheerfully.
“Let us help ye out of yer dress and into yer bedding gown,” she declared.
The three women descended upon her like delighted hens.
Giddy, slightly tipsy laughter filled the room as they loosened laces, untied ribbons, and eased her out of layers of fabric.
Beitris squeaked as Effie pinched her side in jest. Her mother nearly tripped over a discarded shoe.
Ailith tried shushing them all with a finger pressed to her tipsy smiling lips.
They slipped her into a soft, velvety nightdress of pale cream, the fabric whispering over her warm skin. Her hair was brushed until it gleamed like polished wildfire.
When they stepped back, pride and affection shone in their eyes.
Each one kissed her cheeks, one after the other, and then, in a flurry of giggles and whispers, they disappeared into the corridor, leaving the door firmly shut behind them.
Silence fell.
Suddenly the chamber felt too small, too warm, too quiet.
Beitris’s heartbeat thundered so loudly she wondered if it echoed off the walls.
What did brides normally do? Sit? Stand?
Lay upon the bed like some painted temptress?
Saints, no. Not that. The very thought made her want to hide beneath the bed.
So she paced. Sat on the edge of the bed. Stood again. Tried the chair. Pacing returned. She wrung her hands. She smoothed her nightdress. Where was Liam?
As if summoned by her spiraling panic, the door opened.
Male laughter and shouts from the hall spilled in for only a heartbeat before Liam closed the door behind him. Blessedly, he spared her any unwanted audience.
He turned. And froze.
His gaze swept over her, slowly, reverently, as though seeing her for the first time. Warmth spread over his features, softening everything about him.
“Ye are so beautiful,” he murmured.
Her breath caught. Her cheeks blazed anew. Surely she’d catch fire at this rate.
“I… I was nae sure where I should wait for ye,” she admitted, gesturing helplessly toward the chair, then toward the bed. “I forgot to ask my mam.”
His smile was tender, almost boyish, but laced with something deeper that made her stomach flutter. He crossed the room in a few sure strides, his hand sliding around her waist as he drew her against him.
“Ye standing there was perfect,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.
A shiver rolled through her.
He tipped her chin up gently, and his mouth found hers. The kiss began soft, cautious, and sweet enough to melt her bones. But in moments, it shifted. Heat surged between them, his lips moving with a hunger she felt mirrored in her own trembling response.
Beitris clung to him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. Every ounce of awkwardness she’d carried dissolved as his hands skimmed up her sides, then down again, leaving a path of delicious fire in their wake.
When he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing past her parted lips, something inside her ignited bright, dizzying, overwhelming.
Saints above she had never felt so alive. It was as if every corner of her heart, every inch of her skin, had awakened all at once. All for him.
Somehow between the fevered kisses and the desperate glide of hands learning one another, Liam managed to shed his clothing. Beitris barely registered the movements until the last piece fell away, and he stood before her, unguarded, unashamed.
Her breath caught.
Saints how was it possible?
The scars that once marred his hip and upper thigh, angry, raised reminders of the battle that nearly stole him from the world, had changed. They were still there, yes, but softer now, flatter against his skin, no longer harsh but almost a part of him. A testament to strength rather than suffering.
Her heart swelled so fiercely it almost ached.
He was magnificent. Beautiful in a way that stole thinking from her mind, broad shoulders, sculpted lines, every inch of him a promise and a temptation.
Heat fluttered low in her belly, urging her to touch, to explore, to press her lips to every place that had once known pain and show it tenderness instead.
Liam stepped closer, the warmth of him enveloping her long before his hands reached her. His gaze locked with hers, steady, reverent, hungry. When his fingers lifted to the ribbons at her shoulders, she forgot how to breathe.
Slowly… achingly slow… he tugged each ribbon free.
The nightdress loosened, sliding down her body, the silken fabric like a caress. Cool air kissed her skin as the silk pooled at her feet, leaving her bare beneath the weight of his gaze.
For a heartbeat she stood perfectly still, vulnerable and trembling, her heart hammering like a wild thing. But the look in his eyes, heat, awe, a tenderness so fierce it undid her and wrapped around her like a cloak.
He drank her in as though she was the most precious sight he had ever been given.
And in that moment, she felt it too. Felt desired, cherished, worshipped, and very beautiful.
Lifting her into his arms, Liam went to the bed, where he lowered her and somehow at the same time himself.
“Beitris, I cannae promise I’ll go slow. I want ye so badly.” His gaze moved from hers to her mouth, then further down, taking in her breasts.
Her breath caught, the demand that he kiss where his gaze had just landed on the tip of her tongue.
Thankfully he guessed her thoughts because his mouth lowered, lingering on her lips, then kissing a trail down from her jaw to her neck. Each press of his lips made her ache for more.
When his lips closed over her taut nipple, she gasped, her fingers instantly threading through his hair, urging him to do more.
He sucked the overly sensitive tip into his mouth, suckling, licking, and gently nipping.
All thoughts were lost. Rivulets of desire traveled up and down her body until gathering at her very core.
Of their own accord, her thighs pressed together in an attempt to ease the fire between her legs.
Liam’s mouth moved to her other breast to continue the magnificent attentions, his one hand cupping her free breast, thumb circling the tip.
Gasps and moans erupted from her unbidden as she lost the battle to contain the assault of sensations.
“Liam!” she cried out, not quite sure what she wanted or what she needed.