Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A layne watched the tavern maid walk away, a tight feeling in her chest. She knew enough now to understand that the maid had been flirting with Darren. More than that, from the ease of their conversation and the things she’d said, she was someone Darren might have been intimate with.

The thought made her feel hot, and angry, and gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Out of nowhere, she felt the urge to confront the woman and make it clear that she was Darren’s wife. She was the one who belonged in his bed now. Her hand itched with the urge to slap the woman.

She’d never felt this way, and the strength of it surprised her.

Is this what jealousy feels like? I’ve never felt so angered, or ready tae fight with someone. I dinnae understand - a fortnight ago I hated him, and I’d have been well pleased tae see him risk breaking his marriage vows.

The drinks and food arrived. Darren poured them each a cup of mead, and Alayne drained hers without thinking. It was sweet and bitter both, and tingled on the way down her throat. She drank deeply, then held out her cup for him to refill it.

Darren did so, a bemused expression on his face. “I didnae think ye were much o’ a drinker.”

“I dinnae drink often, but it doesnae mean I cannae.” Already, the warmth from the mead was filling her belly. She sipped the second tankard more slowly, content to savor the taste of something she’d never tried before.

The food was plain, simple fare, heavy and filling but easy to wash down with more mead. As she finished her second tankard and started her third, Alayne began to feel as if the world was melting away. Everything took on a hazy glow, and her mood mellowed to match. She watched the people of the village as they ate, drank, sang and laughed together.

She’d never been allowed to be a part of such things before. Her father had never permitted it, and Donall had been wary about letting her go too far from home. He’d always worried about her getting hurt or kidnapped.

But now she was here, safe with Darren MacLean, meeting his clan-folk and getting to know them. Like the mead, it was a new experience, and one she found more enjoyable as the night went on.

It wasn’t until she tried to rise from the table, overheated and in need of a breath of fresh air, that she realized she might have drunk more than she should have. She’d joked about not being permitted more than one or two glasses of wine at a meal, but the truth was, she’d never indulged in alcohol all that much.

The world swayed around her, making her feel light-headed and dizzy, a slightly more pleasant version of the way she’d felt when she’d had a winter fever as a child. She stumbled, and Darren caught her in his arms. “Och, I think ‘tis time tae be getting ye back.”

“I’m nae ill. Just a bit dizzy.” She blinked at him.

Darren smiled slightly, his expression both amused and exasperated. “I’m sure ye are. And I’m a fool fer letting ye have four tankards o’ mead when I kent ye werenae one fer drinking so much. ‘Tis just as well I didnae offer ye a sip o’ me whisky, fer ye’d probably be unconscious with something that strong.”

She hadn’t even realized he’d been drinking something different from her. “Is whisky… stronger?” She’d never had whisky. Father insisted it was a man’s drink, not something a woman should consume.

“Aye. Much stronger. If I’d had as much whiskyas ye had mead, they’d be carrying me out o’ the tavern taenight, and I’d likely be insensible fer days. Tae say naething o’ how I’d feel once the hangover came.”

She looked at him with curiosity. She knew the term, but she didn’t know what one felt like, although her brother had often warned her to avoid their father when he had one.

“Ale head, some call it. Ye’ll see what I mean in the morning, I wager.” Darren turned, still supporting her. “Och, Camden! I need tae borrow a horse from ye. I’ll have the stable boys bring it back in the morning, but me lady isnae feeling so well, and I dinnae want her tae risk walking.”

Someone responded, and Darren took her arm and began to guide her to the door. Alayne leaned on him gratefully. The floor seemed to be swaying like the deck of a ship, making it difficult to find her balance, and Darren’s support kept her from stumbling into tables and tripping over things she couldn’t quite see.

Outside, a young man brought them a horse. Darren handed her off to someone - she thought it might be one of his advisors - while he mounted, then lifted her gently up into the saddle in front of him. “Just relax, lass. We’ll be back soon, and then ye can sleep it off.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to sleep away the warm softness that filled her, but she couldn’t deny that everything felt heavy and her eyes wanted to close. She felt warm and content, in a way she’d rarely experienced before, and she was enjoying it too much to protest as Darren guided the horse in an easy walk up to the keep.

She rode in a daze, and was scarcely more coherent when they arrived at the keep. Darren helped her dismount, then guided her inside and along the now familiar path to their quarters. The arrival at their bedchambers sparked a thought in her.

Bed. She wanted to sleep, but there was something else. She wanted Darren to share her bed. Perhaps not to do all the things she and Evina had talked about, but he was her husband. Her husband, and no one else’s. And she was his wife. Being together was only right for them, and enveloped in the soft golden haze of mead-induced calm, she could admit that she wanted it. She wanted him.

Darren guided her into the bedroom and helped her remove her cloak, then her belt. Once she was in just her skirt and blouse, he helped her lay down on the bed, and gently removed her shoes.

Alayne watched him through half-lidded eyes. When he started to turn away, she reached out and clumsily caught his sleeve. “Ye’re nae going tae… undress me?”

“Nae more than this. I wouldnae want tae make ye uncomfortable.” His voice was soft, gentle, and warm.

“But… ye’re me husband. Ye could. Or ye could kiss me, if ye wished. I wouldnae mind.” She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to touch her. For that matter, she wanted him to desire her.

Darren stepped back, gently removing her hand. “Ye wouldnae mind now, but I wouldnae want tae take a chance on what ye’ll think o’ it in the morning. I’ll nae take advantage o’ ye, not when ye’re bein’ influenced by the mead.”

Anger and hurt flashed through her, and Alayne sat up so fast she nearly hit her head. The room spun, but she chose to ignore it as she forced herself upright on unsteady feet. “I might have drunk more than I’m accustomed tae, Darren MacLean, but that isnae the reason I say these things. And I wouldnae say I didnae mind kissing ye if I didnae think I would mean it in the morning as well.”

“Ye’re drunk. Ye cannae be sure what ye’ll think in the morning.”

“And ye’re a stubborn arse.” Alayne glared at him, then reached up to unlace her bodice. “Ye think I dinnae mean it? That I’m too drunk tae ken what I really want? Dae I have tae throw meself at ye like that tavern wench before ye understand I’m nae lying or tae far gone with drink tae ken me own mind?”

She pulled the blouse over her head, then pulled loose the ties of her skirt and dropped it to her feet. Darren’s eyes went wide, and he stepped back. “Alayne… dinnae be rash…”

“Dinnae be a stubborn fool then. Ye’re me husband. If I’ve said that I’m willing tae have ye, then why should ye refuse?” She stepped toward him, her hands clutching her chemise in preparation for dispensing with it as well.

Darren’s jaw clenched. “I’ll nae take advantage o’ ye. Nae when ye’re inebriated.”

Before she could argue further, he turned and stalked out the door. She was trying to find her footing to follow him when she heard the door to the outer room close as well.

He’d left. He’d left her. She’d offered herself to him, told him over and over again that he was welcome in her bed, welcome to touch her, to love her, and he’d refused.

Shame and hurt flooded her, extinguishing the warmth of the alcohol as she sank back onto the bed, then curled herself into a small ball under the coverlet. She’d hoped she was wrong, and that his arousal the night before had meant things were different between them, but it was clear she’d been right all along.

He didn’t want her. Maybe it had been the massage, maybe it had been thoughts of a lass like Shannon, but whatever he’d reacted to the night before, it wasn’t her.

She’d been an unwanted daughter, and now she was an unwanted wife. She’d thought nothing could equal the sting of her father’s dislike for her, but somehow, Darren’s disinterest cut a thousand times deeper.

Eventually, the lingering effects of the alcohol and her own dizzying emotions pulled her to sleep, and Alayne succumbed gratefully to the bliss of dreamless slumber.