Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
"Hold still, or I'll stab ye with this pin."
Magnus stood rigid as Torvald fussed with the clasp on his formal cloak—heavy wool dyed deep blue, edged with silver thread that marked him as jarl of Barra.
The fabric felt too tight across his shoulders, too confining. Or maybe that was just the weight of what that day meant.
"There," Torvald said, stepping back. "Ye look almost civilized."
"I look like I'm goin' tae me own execution."
"Some would say marriage and execution arenae so different." Torvald's grin faded when Magnus didn't respond. "That was a jest."
"I ken that."
"Then why dae ye look like ye're about tae face down an army?"
Magnus moved to the narrow window, stared out at the courtyard below.
Guests were already gathering—islanders from across Barra, the other jarls and their retinues, Brian and his royal guards.
Too many witnesses. Too many people watching to see if this marriage would hold or shatter like his first one had.
"I'm fine," Magnus said.
"Ye're nae fine. Ye've been pacin' yer chamber since dawn." Torvald moved to stand beside him. "Talk tae me."
"There's naethin' to say. I marry Ada, we consummate the marriage, Brian reports tae the king, and the Pact holds. Simple."
"If it were simple, ye wouldnae look like that."
Magnus's jaw tightened. "I dinnae want tae fail her."
The words came out quiet. Honest.
Torvald was silent for a moment. "Ye think ye failed Freydis."
"I did fail Freydis. I gave her everything—protection, a home, me name—and it wasnae enough. She still—" Magnus stopped. "I willnae fail Ada the same way."
"Ada's nae Freydis."
"I ken that."
Ada had proven herself. Had shown loyalty, competence, courage. Everything he'd thought he'd wanted in a wife.
But wanting her and trusting her were two different things. And Magnus didn't know if he was capable of trust anymore.
"It's time," Torvald said quietly. "The ceremony's about tae start."
Magnus nodded once. Straightened his shoulders. Became the jarl his people expected—cold, controlled, unshakable.
And tried very hard not to think about the fact that in less than an hour, Ada MacTavish would be his wife.
The ceremony was held in the great hall, with Father Domnall presiding.
Magnus stood at the front, flanked by Torvald and the other jarls. Brian watched from the side, his expression carefully neutral. The hall was packed—every bench filled, people standing along the walls, craning to see.
Then the doors opened, and Ada appeared.
Magnus's breath caught.
She wore a gown of deep green wool, the color bringing out the hazel in her eyes. Her blonde hair was braided back with silver ribbons woven through, and someone—Claricia, probably—had lent her a necklace of polished amber. She looked like a Highland lady, proud and proper.
But her hands trembled slightly as she walked down the aisle.
Magnus found himself wanting to go to her. To tell her it would be all right, that she didn't need to be afraid. But he stayed where he was, watching as she approached with her chin lifted and her shoulders straight despite the fear he could see in her eyes.
When she reached him, she looked up. Met his gaze directly.
"Ready?" he asked quietly.
"Nay," she whispered back. "But I dinnae think that matters."
Despite everything, Magnus felt his mouth twitch. "Nay. It daesnae."
Father Domnall began the ceremony. The words washed over Magnus—ancient vows in Latin and Gaelic, promises of fidelity and honor and obedience. He spoke his responses when required, his voice steady and clear.
Ada's voice shook slightly on her vows, but she didn't falter. Didn't look away.
"And now," Father Domnall said, "ye may seal yer union with a kiss."
Magnus turned to face Ada fully. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted slightly. He could see her pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat.
He remembered the festival. The way she'd grabbed his tunic and pulled him down, desperate and terrified. The way her lips had tasted of honey mead and fear.
This was different. This was a promise. A binding.
This was forever.
Magnus cupped her face gently in his hands. Gave her time to pull away if she wanted to.
She didn't.
He kissed her.
It started chaste, just a press of lips, simple and formal. The kind of kiss expected at a wedding ceremony.
But then Ada made a small sound in the back of her throat. Her hands came up to rest against his chest. And something shifted.
Magnus deepened the kiss without thinking, one hand sliding to the back of her neck to hold her closer. Ada responded immediately, her lips parting under his, her fingers curling into his tunic.
Heat flooded through him. Want. Need. Something deeper than simple desire.
The hall erupted in cheers and applause, breaking the moment.
Magnus pulled back, his heart hammering. Ada stared up at him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dazed.
"That—" she started.
"I ken." Magnus's voice came out rougher than intended. "We should start the feast."
"Aye." Ada touched her lips with trembling fingers. "That wasnae—I mean, it wasnae like normal."
"It wasnae our first kiss," Magnus said quietly. "So ye've nay need tae be embarrassed."
Ada's flush deepened. "I remember."
"Good." Magnus offered his arm. "Come on. Let's get through the rest of this."
The feast was interminable.
Course after course, toasts from the jarls, bawdy jokes that made Ada blush furiously. Magnus sat beside her at the high table, acutely aware of every movement she made, every breath she took.
That kiss had changed something. Had cracked open a door he'd thought sealed shut.
He wanted her. Not just physically—though God knew that want was there, burning hotter with every passing moment. But he wanted her. Her sharp mind. Her stubborn courage. The way she looked at him like he might be more than just the monster everyone believed him to be.
And that terrified him.
"Dance!" someone shouted. "The bride and groom must dance!"
Magnus cursed inwardly. He'd known this was coming, it was tradition, expected. But the thought of holding Ada close, of touching her in front of all those witnesses while his control hung by a thread...
"We dinnae have tae," Ada said quietly beside him. "If ye dinnae want tae."
Magnus looked at her. Saw the understanding in her eyes. The willingness to spare him this, even though refusing would draw questions and gossip.
"Nay," he said. "We should. They'll expect it."
He stood, offered his hand. Ada took it, her fingers small and warm in his.
They moved to the center of the hall. Musicians struck up a traditional Highland tune, slower than the wild Norse dances Magnus preferred, but manageable.
Magnus placed one hand on Ada's waist, held her other hand in his. She fit against him perfectly, he noticed. Not too tall, not too small. Just... right.
"I dinnae ken this dance very well," Ada admitted as they began moving. "Me faither never bothered teachin' me."
"Just follow me lead."
"I'm nae very good at followin'."
Despite himself, Magnus smiled. "I've noticed."
They moved together, finding a rhythm. Ada stumbled once, and Magnus caught her, his arm tightening around her waist. She looked up at him, her face so close he could count the freckles across her nose.
"Sorry," she whispered.
"Dinnae be." Magnus's hand slid lower on her back, not improper, but close. "Ye're daein' fine."
"I dinnae feel fine. I feel like everyone's watchin' us."
"They are watchin' us. We just got married."
"I ken that, but—" Ada's breath hitched as he pulled her slightly closer. "Magnus."
"Aye?"
"What are ye daein'?"
"Dancin' with me wife." His voice dropped lower. "Is that nae allowed?"
"It's…ye're very close."
"We'll be much closer later taenight."
Ada's cheeks flamed red. "That's nae what I meant. Ye cannae just say that."
"Why nae? We're married now. I can say whatever I want."
"Ye're impossible."
"So I've been told."
The music swirled around them. Magnus was aware of nothing but Ada—the warmth of her body against his, the way her hand trembled slightly in his grip, the pulse beating rapidly at her throat.
He wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to pull her from that hall and carry her up to their chamber and—
The music ended.
Magnus forced himself to step back, to release her. Ada looked up at him, her eyes dark and confused and full of want that mirrored his own.
"I need some air," she said suddenly. "It's too warm in here."
"I'll come with ye."
"Nay, I just, I need a moment alone." But her hand lingered in his for just a breath longer than necessary before she pulled away.
Magnus watched her go, weaving through the crowd, toward the doors. He should follow her. Should make sure she was all right.
But he needed a moment too. Needed to get his head straight before they retired to the chamber where Brian would inspect the sheets in the morning and make his report to the king.
Where Ada would become his wife in truth.
Magnus moved to the side of the hall, accepting a cup of ale from a passing servant. He drank deeply, trying to calm the want still burning through his veins.
"She's lovely."
Magnus turned. Claricia stood beside him, one hand on her swollen belly, her expression knowing.
"Aye," Magnus said.
"And ye're terrified of her."
"I'm nae."
"Ye are." Claricia smiled gently. "I recognize that look. Erik had the same one on our weddin' night."
Magnus was quiet for a moment. "How did ye… how did it work? Between ye and Erik?"
"Slowly. With a lot of arguin' and almost dyin' and finally realizin' that we were stronger taegether than apart." Claricia looked across the hall to where Erik stood with the other jarls. "But mostly? We had tae learn to trust each other. Truly trust. Nae just words, but actions."
"And if I cannae dae that? If I—" Magnus stopped.
"Then ye'll both be miserable, and the marriage will fail, and the Pact will crumble." Claricia's voice was matter-of-fact. "But I dinnae think ye will. Because I saw how ye looked at her when she walked down that aisle. And that's nae the look of a man who daesnae care."
She squeezed his arm once, then moved away to rejoin her husband.
Magnus stood alone, turning her words over in his mind.
God help him, she was right.
He cared about Ada. More than he'd thought possible after only a few days. More than was safe.
A commotion near the door caught his attention. Raised voices, one of them Ada's.
Magnus set down his cup and moved through the crowd, his instincts already on alert.
He found Ada near the entrance, her face pale, speaking with two women in servants' garb. When she saw Magnus approaching, something flickered across her expression, determination mixed with fear.
"Magnus," she said. "Could I have a word with ye? Privately?"
The two servants scattered immediately. Magnus studied Ada's face, saw the tension there.
"What's wrong?"
"Nae here. Please." Ada glanced around at the crowded hall. "The gardens?"
Magnus nodded, offering his arm. They slipped out through a side door, into the cool evening air.
The gardens were quiet, empty. Just stone paths winding between bare winter beds and skeletal trees. Magnus led Ada to a secluded corner, away from any windows where they might be observed.
"What happened?" he asked.
Ada wrapped her arms around herself. "I overheard somethin'. Two of the servants, talkin' about—" She stopped. "About yer first wife."
Magnus went still. "What did they say?"
"That everyone kens what ye did. That she was young and healthy and then suddenly dead, and ye wouldnae even hold a proper mournin'." Ada's voice shook slightly. "Magnus, I need tae ken the truth. Before we dae anything taenight, I need tae ken if ye…"
"If I murdered her." The words came out flat. Empty.
"Aye." Ada looked up at him, her hazel-green eyes searching his face. "Did ye?"
Magnus could have lied. Could have told her whatever she wanted to hear to make this night easier for both of them.
But he'd promised himself he wouldn't lie to her. Wouldn't treat her the way Freydis had treated him.
"If ye see me as a villain," he said quietly, "then it daesnae matter what I say. Ye'll believe what ye want tae believe."
"That's nae an answer."
"It's the only answer I have."
Ada was silent for a long moment. The wind rustled through the bare branches above them, cold and sharp.
Then she stepped closer. Close enough that Magnus could see the gold flecks in her eyes, could smell the herb-scent of her hair.
"I dinnae believe the rumors," she said firmly. "I dinnae believe ye're a murderer."
Something in Magnus's chest loosened. "Why nae?"
"Because I've seen ye with yer people. The way ye care fer them. The way ye rushed tae help the sick village without hesitation. The way ye—" Ada stopped, shook her head. "A man who'd murder his pregnant wife wouldnae dae those things. Wouldnae be capable of such... kindness."
Magnus stared at her. No one had said that to him, not since Freydis died. Many—mostly people outside of his clan—had simply assumed the worst, whispered behind his back, looked at him with fear and suspicion.
But Ada, Ada looked at him and saw something else. Something better.
"Thank ye," he said roughly. "Fer believin' that."
"I'm nae sayin' I understand what happened. Or that I dinnae want tae ken the truth eventually." Ada's voice was gentle but firm. "But I believe ye didnae kill her. That's enough fer taenight."
Magnus felt a smile tug at his mouth, the first genuine one in longer than he could remember. "Ye're a strange woman, Ada MacTavish."
"Ada Haraldson now," she corrected.
"Aye." Magnus reached out, tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Ada Haraldson. Me wife."
The words felt right. Felt true in a way he hadn't expected.
Ada's breath caught. "Magnus."
"We should go back inside," he said quietly. "Before they come lookin' fer us."
"Aye. We should."
But neither of them moved.
They stood there in the cold garden, close enough to touch, while the sounds of the feast drifted through the night air.