Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It was strange, being part of a group of women who were uncertain if she truly belonged among them, but even so, Thora enjoyed her morning with the ladies of the other clans. Despite her supposed status as a recently elevated village maid, they were kind enough.

The lady she’d accidentally kicked the night before turned out to be Laird Sutherland’s wife. Thora’s apology was met with laughter, and the admission from another of the wives that she wished she had the temerity to kick her husband when he vexed her.

From there, they settled in the little-used solar to tend to needlework and talk among themselves. Serving maids brought bread, cheese and winter-preserved fruit for those who felt hungry, and a choice of mulled wine, hot cider, or hot tea for everyone.

Thora chose tea, as did many of the other ladies, and the morning passed in a lazy drift of needlework, reading, and idle conversation. It was oddly soothing, and by the time they dispersed to prepare for the noon meal and the afternoon festivities, she felt almost peaceful and content.

Aedan met her at the door to their rooms, his expression grim. “We’ve something we need tae discuss.” The tone of his words made her hazy contentedness vanish like mist in the morning sun.

“Aye?”

“Aye. The menfolk were talkin’ this morn… the subject happened intae intimate territory, and one o’ the lairds mentioned that he didnae hear much from our rooms.” Aedan’s mouth twisted with the same annoyance and disgust she felt. “I didnae want tae say too much, so I told them we’d had an early night because we were tired after our travels, and ye had been bruised by our fall in the courtyard.”

“Ye didnae have tae be so circumspect.” She’d expected there to be some speculation about their relationship, given the tale they’d told thus far.

Aedan gave her an annoyed look. “I was tryin’ tae spare both o’ us any more lies than we have tae tell - and act in courtesy tae ye.”

Thora blushed, feeling chagrined by his unspoken rebuke. It was a fair one - he could have told his fellow lairds any number of things, which would have been embarrassing, and also would have meant she’d have to live up to whatever reputation he chose to give her.

She nodded. “A headache and chills from exposure tae the cold… and mayhap I bruised or twisted part o’ me back?”

“’Twill be something they couldnae see easily, aye. And believable enough, I suppose.” Aedan agreed.

The two of them retired to separate sides of the screens to change into appropriate attire, then descended to join the rest of the guests. Thora received several sidelong looks from the men, but she did her best to ignore them. Instead, she focused on the way Lachlan Ross was guiding them about the first floor, showing off the great swathes of greenery, along with white, red, and gold cloth that hung about the hall as decorations, and the hundreds of multi-colored candles, releasing the scents of pine and cedar and woodsmoke into the air.

There were game tables set up in the library, which had more space than she was accustomed to seeing, and yet still possessed a large number of tomes. There was a large, open hallway set up for indoor contests of sport, from archery to hall races, and mention of myriad prizes for the winners. There were gifts piled in place for Yuletide through Twelfth Night, enough that each man and woman might take home two or three trinkets.

It was a magnificent spectacle, and Thora could feel Aedan growing more and more tense with every step. She couldn’t fault him for his growing unease, for she understood it all too well. Lachlan Ross was showing off, displaying his wealth and his prestige in a blatant manner that made her cringe.

And it must have been worse for Aedan, she knew. With the emptiness of his own clan’s coffers, he must feel the sting of the difference between Ross’s well-off clan and his impoverished one keenly. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to attend the Yule celebration. He must have known what an ordeal it would be - to be surrounded by such luxury and ease when his own men were struggling to put aside a copper or two for necessities or food.

Finally, the tour was over, and it was time to return to the Great Hall for evening tea, before the men began an evening of games, and the women left to attend to their own pursuits, prior to the supper feast.

They were passing into the hall when one of the younger lairds pushed Aedan to one side. Thora stumbled along with him, and the hall erupted into cheers. “Nay escape now, Aedan Cameron! Ye cannae hide behind yer words fer this!”

For a moment, she thought they’d been discovered. Then Aedan looked up and cursed. “Och, o’ all the foolish…”

Thora looked up as well. A branch of Golden Bough, mistletoe, had been hung above the space on one side of the door. It was obviously intended to be a Kissing Bough. And just as obvious that the guests, and possibly Laird Ross himself, had intended to catch them with it.

Aedan looked down at her. “We cannae disappoint them. And ‘tis tradition. ‘Twould be bad luck tae ignore it.”

“Aye.” Thora reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. “A kiss then, fer luck and tradition, and Yuletide cheer.”

She’d intended to offer a quick, chaste kiss, and cite shyness if anyone asked her about it, but the press of Aedan’s lips on hers drove every thought of caution from her. The mouth that claimed hers was firm, lips dry and slightly rough but intoxicating all the same. He tasted of roast meat and mulled wine, and something she didn’t recognize, but which seemed purely and utterly his. Smoke from the candles filled her nose, along with the scent of Aedan and rendered her powerless to pull away.

It seemed he felt the same, for the kiss became more demanding, more urgent. A hand that had cupped her cheek went to the back of her head, tugging her closer as his lips parted and his tongue flicked across her lips in silent question.

She could no more have denied that question than she could have learned to breathe water. Her mouth opened, welcoming his touch and his claiming as the kiss deepened still further.

A loud wolf whistle brought her back to her senses, and she and Aedan jolted apart. Despite his tanned skin, she could see his cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide, and she suspected she looked every bit as dazed. Her skin was humming, and in the brief moment before he pulled away entirely, she could feel that she was not the only one who’d been caught in a wave of desire.

Then Aedan took a deep breath and gave her a wry smile. “Dae ye think we’ve satisfied them, wife?”

Thora swallowed hard and glanced around his arm. Several of the ladies were blushing and fanning themselves, and the men were either smirking or outright leering. “Aye.”

Pulling back from the sweet heat of Thora’s mouth, and the pliant responsiveness of her body, was one of the hardest things Aedan had ever done. He was sure of it. His blood burned with the desire to pull her closer, to find some quiet corner to continue what they’d started. His manhood ached with arousal, and it was only Thora’s proximity and her long, full skirts that were hiding just how affected he really was.

If she’d really been his wife, he would have swept her off her feet and carried her to the nearest room for some privacy and showed her just how much she heated his blood.

As it was, he had to take deep breaths and think of snow for a moment before the raging heat and aching erection began to subside.

Once he was able to walk without wincing - though not without a certain amount of discomfort - the two of them joined the others at the table. Kendrick clapped him on the shoulder. “And here I was, thinkin’ ye might be telling tales this morn… but if that’s the way she greets a kiss from ye, then I envy ye man!”

“Och, I had wondered on yer reluctance tae speak meself.” Arthur nodded. “I thought perhaps ‘twas a brief liaison where ye were forced tae dae right by the lass afterward – ‘tis kent tae happen - but seein’ that kiss…” He trailed off.

Abruptly, Aedan remembered their story from the previous night. They’d mentioned her brother had caught them and brought them before a priest. He wanted to kick himself, or Thora, or both of them.

Of course with a tale like that and his reticence concerning their marriage bed, someone would think it was a marriage that had been demanded by her kin, rather than a bond of affection. He wanted to groan at how neatly he and Thora had nearly tripped themselves up.

Thora was already smiling sweetly at the men, with an air of gentle bemusement. “This morn, me lairds?”

“Aye. There was some discussion this morn, and ‘twas noted the two o’ ye were quieter than one would expect o’ a newly wedded couple…” Arthur trailed off. Aedan wished the man could have been half as uncomfortable this morning as he was bringing up the topic now.

Thora blushed and looked away as if abashed. “Och, never say Aedan isnae willing tae fulfill his position as a husband! But he was bein’ kind tae me, and didnae ask fer much. I’d bruised me back in fallin’ last night, ye see, and between that and the headache I had from facin’ the cold and wet yesterday…”

Lachlan laughed. “A headache, ye say lass?” The elder laird had been drinking steadily throughout the day, and though he held his alcohol well, his manners had slipped slightly. “I’ve heard it said that a headache is what a lass claims tae have when she doesnae wish tae properly fulfill her duties tae a man, as a wife or lover.”

Thora colored, and Aedan could see a spark of ire in her eyes, though she controlled it well. “Och, I dinnae ken about other women, me laird, but I do get headaches from long exposure tae the cold. Even taeday, I’ve had a dull throbbing in my temples… I was hopin’ some food and drink would ease it, and mayhap a hot bath…”

“Mayhap. I rather think that we menfolk must pity Laird Cameron, fer I’ll wager ye’ll leave him without any means tae relieve himself after what ye’ve inflicted on him just now.” Lachlan chuckled, and there were snickers all around the table.

There was a snide tone to his words, and a smug twist to his mouth that made Aedan want to hit him or challenge him to a duel for Thora’s honor. He didn’t dare of course - such things were frowned upon during a festival, especially when the cause was simple words, and the speaker was one’s host.

He still wanted to hit the man.

He wasn’t prepared for Thora to stand up and take his arm. “Me laird… if ye’ll excuse me, I need tae speak tae me husband. I wish tae make sure he’s nae in any distress, since ye’ve brought it tae me attention.”

Aedan doubted Thora was about to suggest they surrender to Lachlan’s words, but he followed her willingly enough. Anything was better than remaining there and trying to politely ignore Lachlan Ross’s gibes, and his obvious attempts to either cause a rift between them or prove to his guests that the marriage was a farce.

He didn’t know why the Laird Ross was so determined to do so, when the wedded state of his allies was no affair of his. However, the fact that Lachlan so clearly wanted to tear them apart was more than enough to convince Aedan to make sure his attempts failed.

Thora led him to a secluded alcove some distance from the Great Hall, then turned to face him, her expression tight. “Mark me.”

Aedan almost lost his footing at her blunt words. “What?”

“The kiss wasnae enough. He’s still suspicious, and I dinnae trust what he’ll try next. Worse, I dinnae want him convincing the other lairds he’s correct. We’ll never survive if they all suspect us and are lookin’ fer proof that we’re nae as close as we claim.”

She was correct, but even so…

“Mark ye?”

“Aye. I’ve seen me braither and his lady once or twice, comin’ from their bedchambers. She had marks…” Thora gestured to her throat. “Like bruises. Love bites, she called them, marks that her lover had claimed her.”

He knew quite well what she was talking about. He was reluctant to leave such a mark on her pale skin. And he truly didn’t want Lachlan Ross to think he’d driven him to possessively stake his claim. That might make the laird even more suspicious, for why would a man in a loving marriage feel the need to warn other men away?

On the other hand, a love bite would make a statement that even the most foolish or drunken man couldn’t ignore. Aedan considered the matter for a moment, then tugged on the shoulder of Thora’s dress. “Ye make a good suggestion, but…”

He loosened the laces of her bodice and tugged it down to expose part of her chest, though he left it high enough to preserve her modesty. Thora squeaked lightly in protest. “What are ye…?”

“I’m doin’ as ye asked, but in a way that they willnae be able tae tell whether the mark was made last night, this morn, or just now. A mark here…” He touched the soft, creamy skin above her breast. “...wouldnae be immediately visible.”

Thora was quick to guess where his thoughts were headed. “We’ll return, and I’ll be a wee bit tousled… if the laces are loose and the bodice slips so that they happen tae see… it can be an accident, and they willnae ken…”

Aedan nodded, then bent his head and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the silken skin, suckling and biting softly. Thora gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders as if she couldn’t decide whether to push him away or pull him closer.

Her skin smelled of snowmelt and lavender, and he wished he could explore more of it. Aedan forced himself to pull away before he aroused himself to a state that would make it impossible for him to return to the Hall.

There on Thora’s chest, just above the swell of her right breast, was a reddish mark with the slightest imprint of teeth. Aedan grinned. “As ye desired, lass.” He bent closer, unable to resist teasing her just a little, since she was certainly teasing him far too much for any man to bear. “Now ye’ve been marked as mine, little trickster…”

“Aye, and it’s a claim that neither one o’ us can put aside, me laird.” Thora’s breath ghosted across his ear and made him shudder with desire before she stepped away and made a half-hearted attempt to set herself to rights.

Looking at her, Aedan doubted any man would think anything other than that they’d enjoyed a quick, passionate tryst. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy color, and small tendrils of hair were escaping her careful braiding to frame her face and throat. Her clothing wasn’t overly mussed, but it was in slight disarray, the skirts creased a little more than they had been, and the bodice not as tightly laced.

The image was perfect for what they wanted others to think, but Aedan couldn’t help feeling a stab of disappointment. With a sinking heart, he realized that, for all he’d sworn not to let himself become entranced and entangled with Thora MacTavish, his heart and his desires had no intention of obeying him. Appearances were all well and good, but it was more than just his aching manhood that wished appearances and reality were the same.

He pushed the thought away with an effort and offered Thora his arm to lead her back to the hall. He was beginning to think he’d need a stroll in the garden to have any chance of sleeping this night, but for now, he had more important things to think of.

Silence fell as they entered, carefully avoiding the Kissing Bough. More than one pair of eyes roved over them as Aedan led Thora back to the table and pulled her chair free for her to sit. He saw more than one blush appear on the faces of the ladies, and more than one gleam of desire and appreciation in the eyes of the men.

“Me laird, will ye tak’ some tea, or would ye rather the mulled wine or the cider?” Thora offered him a winsome smile as she indicated his empty cup.

“Cider.” It had less alcohol than the mulled wine, and he needed to keep his head clear. Besides, the men would likely be drinking after supper, and he had no intention of becoming as drunk and loose lipped as Conall was.

Thora nodded and leaned across to get the cider flagon. The bodice of her dress slipped, as if she hadn’t planned it, revealing an expanse of her chest, and a good portion of the love bite he’d given her.

It was only for a moment, before Thora noticed her apparently disheveled state, gasped, and wrapped an arm over her chest. “Och, me dear husband… I apologize… I didnae mean… yer pardon…” She ducked away to tighten the laces, her ears and the back of her neck a crimson to rival the color of the wine.

It was enough. Enough for the men to exchange glances and low chuckles of appreciation. Enough for the women to blush and titter behind their hands, good-natured rebukes hiding in their expressions.

But most importantly, it was enough for Aedan to catch Lachlan Ross, staring at his wife with a greedy, covetous gaze that no man should ever be directing at another’s spouse.

It confirmed something else as well. Whether Lachlan suspected their ruse or not, it no longer mattered. The Laird Ross no longer had any desire to expose a deception in his castle.

His desire, instead, was to claim Thora for himself. Aedan hid a scowl behind his cup.

Lachlan Ross might covet Thora, but - wife or not - Aedan had no intention of letting her go, whatever scheme the elder laird might concoct.