Chapter 26 #2
“That is usually dangerous. Ye have nae been one for subtle thoughts.”
Ailis narrowed her eyes. “I am tryin’ to understand why everyone seems determined to make me a wife before anyone has explained what bein’ one actually means.”
Sorcha’s mouth twitched. “Ye ken what marriage is.”
“I ken the part where two people stand before a priest and say vows they might nae keep. And then they live together,” she continued, gesturing with a hand to explain her point even though she highly doubted Gordon planned to live with her.
If she went through with this marriage, she would be alone. He had made that clear.
That he wants me gone.
“Aye. When ye are married, ye will live with yer husband,” Sorcha said with a low chuckle. “Ye are a little nervous,” she added and reached for Ailis hands. “The bindin’ is merely three days away. It is natural that ye will be.”
“I am merely wonderin’ if I should do this. It doesnae seem like Gordon wants to be wed to me. He himself asked me to leave just last night.”
Sorcha’s smile faded only a little. “He said those words to ye?”
Ailis swallowed and nodded.
The carriage stopped before a seamstress shop near the center of the village. Through the small windows, Ailis could see bolts of wool and linen stacked upon wooden shelves, ribbons hanging from pegs, and several gowns draped over wooden forms.
“This is where we are goin’?” she asked.
“Aye. Mistress Harriet has been charged with makin’ yer gown.”
Ailis sighed and toyed with her skirts a little. “Another woman who shall ask me about the bindin’.”
“I daenae think Laird MacLaren really wants ye to leave. Rowan swears he thinks his brother is in love with ye.”
Ailis scoffed and shook her head. “He isnae,” she told Sorcha. “I daenae think he is capable of that emotion.”
And me? Am I capable? Do I love him?
She did not have the answer to that.
Sorcha reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps give it a little more time. I learned to love me husband. It didnae happen at first, and I didnae think it even would.”
Ailis was grateful for her sister’s support as they held hands for another moment then they stepped out of the carriage and went into the seamstress store. Inside, an older woman approached them with a deep curtsy.
“Ladies,” the woman greeted with a wide smile. “Welcome.”
“Good day, Mistress Harriet,” Sorcha greeted. “We have come for the final fittin’.”
“Of course.”
Ailis was promptly surrounded by cloth. Mistress Harriet adjusted the bodice while Sorcha inspected sleeves, embroidery, and the fall of the skirt.
“Lift yer arms, Ma’am.”
Ailis obeyed.
“Turn.”
She turned.
“Again.”
Ailis sighed. “Must a weddin’ dress require so much sufferin’?”
Sorcha laughed. “It is a dress, Ailis.”
“It feels like armor.”
Mistress Harriet smiled. “Ye will thank me when ye see it finished.”
“Will there be pockets?”
Sorcha looked at her. “Pockets?”
“Aye,” she said with a nod.
“Whatever for, Ma’am?” Harriet asked with a laugh.
“I daenae ken. Things.”
“What things?” Sorcha questioned, too. “Are ye up to some mischief?”
Ailis laughed. “Nay, I promise. It is merely because I might need some honeyed fruits to feast on while I am nervous. Ye ken I eat a lot when I cannae relax.”
Harriet chuckled and wove her fabric around Ailis’s waist again. “Ye are an unusual bride, Ma’am.”
“Ye have nay idea,” Sorcha murmured.
When the final measurement was taken, Harriet began speaking quietly with Sorcha about the wedding preparations while Ailis walked around the shop, taking in the latest clothing styles.
Ailis watched them suspiciously when she heard them whisper her name. “What are ye whisperin’ about?”
“Nothin’ ye need concern yerself with,” Sorcha replied.
“That is precisely what people say before nae tellin’ me somethin’ I ought to ken.”
Sorcha sighed. “We were merely discussin’ the marital night.”
“What?” Allies questioned, staring at Sorcha.
Her brows drew together as her lips parted slightly.
“Ye do ken what happens after the bindin’, right? When ye retire to yer new chambers with yer husband?”
Heat flooded Ailis’ cheeks until her skin tinged.
She knew they saw her flush. Her throat dried up because of it, too.
For several heartbeats, she said nothing.
Her eyes moved across Sorcha’s face as though the answer might somehow be written there.
Confusion clouded her features, leaving her looking utterly lost
“I… I daenae ken what ye mean.”
“Oh dearest,” Sorcha murmured and crossed over to take her hand. “After the ceremony, ye and Gordon will retire together.”
“I ken that. We will share a chamber, will we nae? I ken I shall be miserable in his chamber… It is all dark and musty, and he absolutely hates me sheep beddin’.”
Sorcha smiled gently. “I do nae speak of sleepin’, sister. When a man and woman are married, there are certain…” Sorcha paused.
“Duties,” Harriet supplied to her.
“Aye, duties that must be performed,” Sorcha continued with an eager smile then lowered her tone. “Ye will be expected to consummate the marriage.”
Ailis blinked, a furious heat spreading on her cheeks. “Consummate? Do ye mean when a man touches a woman?”
“Aye,” Sorcha answered. “And when he makes her feel… bliss.”
“Bliss? What does that mean?” Her eyes searched Sorcha’s for answers as that heat swept through her again.
Does she mean makin’ bairns?
“It means the pleasures a man brings his wife.”
Ailis waited for Sorcha to say more. “That is all?”
Sorcha opened her eyes. “Aye”
Harriet cleared her throat, and Ailis looked across the room at her next.
“When the time is right, ye will ken what it is like,” Sorcha told her with another reassuring smile that made Ailis frown.
“That is not helpful, Sorcha.”
Harriet finally intervened. “Ye neednae fear it, Ma’am. A husband should be gentle. He should give his wife time. And he should listen if she is afraid.”
Ailis’ thoughts immediately betrayed her as she recalled Gordon’s hands on her waist and the hard feel of his body underneath her touch when he told her he did not wish to ruin her.
She swallowed hard now, the meaning of their words sinking in.
“Will it hurt?”
“Heavens nay, dearest,” Sorcha said.
“Aye, it will,” Harriet supplied at the same time.
Panic struck her so swiftly that her breath caught in her throat. Her stomach dropped, and suddenly the walls seemed too close, the air too thin.
“Daenae scare her,” Sorcha said to Harriet as the woman chuckled, and Ailis slowly dislodged her hands from Sorcha, the overwhelming sensations flooding her, taking control.
She remembered Gordon’s mouth against hers, the warmth of his hands, the way her whole body seemed to awaken beneath the simplest touch. If a kiss could leave her so shaken, what would it feel like to surrender completely to him?
This is what they speak of, right? Consummatin’?
Her stomach fluttered at the thought, and a slow shiver traveled down her spine.
She imagined his hands holding her close, his rough voice murmuring against her ear, his breath warm against her skin. The thought made her fingers curl into her skirts.
What would it be like to let him touch me without either of us stoppin’?
“I… I need a moment,” she said to Sorcha as a restless warmth spread beneath her ribs. She pressed a hand to her chest and found her heart racing.
She could feel every beat as she hurried out of the shop and ducked in a corner to evade Gordon’s guards standing out front waiting.
I merely need some time on me own.
The cool village air struck her face, and she drew in a deep breath, reveling in it while her cheeks burned.
Ailis began walking without purpose. At first, she merely meant to clear her head.
Then she passed the baker, the smithy, and several cottages she had never seen before because she had never walked through the village on her own.
She turned down another path, and the farther she walked, the more her thoughts scattered.
Gordon’s face appeared in her mind.
His mouth, his hands, the tremble of his voice as he kissed her…
All of that clouded her mind as she walked, as if hoping to go farther and farther away from the feeling. When she finally stopped walking, it was because her feet hurt and also because she felt the first droplet of rain on her cheeks.
Her stomach sank when she looked around her, slowly turning in a circle.
“Oh, Saints.”
The seamstress’s shop was nowhere in sight, and she had no idea how to find her way back.