Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Alison stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was definitely torn. Her wedding day. Wrong groom.

Nay, the right groom.

Truth be told, the best choice for her would be no groom.

She wasn't even sure she liked her intended husband. He was too bossy. Too confident, too ready to tell her all the things that were wrong with her.

Also, she didn't trust him. But she trusted no man. They only disappointed you. As long as she could hold her heart close, she would be fine.

A knock sounded at her door. Her cousin, Mairi, from the Mackay clan near the Sutherland border, stepped into the room. She was to be her witness, but since she had only arrived the previous morning—and with all the disruption that had occurred since then—they'd hardly had any time to speak.

"You look beautiful, Alison." Mairi held her hands over her mouth as she observed her cousin. "Your groom will be most satisfied with you."

Alison smirked. "Which groom? The one who left or the one who stayed?"

Mairi stepped farther into the room. "I admire yer sense of humor, cousin. I doona ken if I would be as calm as ye are after yesterday."

She snorted. "If ye could see my insides ye wouldn't be so impressed with my state of mind."

They clutched each other's hands. "I doona ken the full story, and I thought leaving ye alone last eve was a good idea, but we have a bit of time before ye are expected downstairs. Did ye wish to speak of it?" Mairi said.

Alison let go of her hands and walked away. "‘Tis no' something to speak of. Finn Mackay and I have no' gotten along since he arrived. However, there is no mistaking the attraction we have for each other.

"Last eve I was in the stable, feeling quite sorry for myself, when Finn stumbled upon me. He attempted to console me, which quickly turned into something we had been fighting for some time."

"What about Sinclair? Ye said ye were feeling sorry for yerself. Dinna ye care for the mon?"

She snorted. "I hated the mon. Part of our betrothal agreement was my assurance that I understood he would keep his lemman."

"Nay!"

"Aye. No' only that, but, when they arrived, she was with him and he instructed the maid to place her in the bedchamber he had been assigned."

Mairi just stared at her cousin, her mouth hanging open. "And yer da allowed this?"

"He made sure I agreed to it in the betrothal agreement, but he dinna seem to ken that the witch would come to the wedding."

Mairi placed her hands on her hips. "He should have thrown them out."

"Da has no' been the same since my brothers died. I think he was just happy to be rid of me."

Her cousin ran her hand down Alison's hair. "Ye could have come to stay with us instead of being tied to such a horrible mon."

"I thought I was fine with the arrangements until he showed up with her . Then it all seemed to be real. I would be sharing my husband with another woman who would occupy his bed while I slept in another room.

"Nay!"

"Aye." She smiled. "That was Finn's reaction to it. He was so upset I kept waiting for him to throw me over the back of his horse and ride away."

"Instead, he managed to save ye anyway."

Another soft knock caught their attention. One of the maids entered after they bid her enter. "My lady, yer da has asked that ye come downstairs."

Mairi slipped her arm into Alison's arm. "Come. Let us start this wedding."

Alison took a deep breath as she reached the bottom of the staircase. There were about fifty people gathered, a much smaller group than the night before. Apparently plenty of Sinclair clan folk had already departed from the bizarre wedding.

Mairi walked with her to where the priest, Finn, and his brother Robin stood in front of the kirk in the outer bailey. Both men dressed in formal Mackay wear turned toward her.

Her breath caught in her lungs. Finn looked so handsome, so impressive, so much in control, compared to how she was shaking as she reached him.

He offered a warm smile and held his hand out. "Ye look beautiful, lass."

She accepted his hand and licked her lips. He closed his eyes slightly and then turned them toward the priest.

At the proper time, they placed their palms together and the priest wrapped their hands with a piece of Mackay cloth.

Finn looked directly into her eyes as he repeated his vows. She, however, was unable to maintain the intimate contact with him.

Eventually the priest blessed them, offered a prayer for fertility and declared them husband and wife.

‘Twas a subdued group who left the kirk and returned to the keep. Her da had no' spoken to her since his announcement the night before that the wedding would still take place this morning. With a different groom.

"‘Twill no' be so terrible, Alison," Finn said as he bent to speak into her ear as they strolled to the keep. "I believe we will get along well."

"Aye. As long as I obey yer commands."

He drew in a deep breath. "I doona mean to make them sound like commands, wife. I am merely concerned about yer safety. ‘Tis dangerous times."

She nodded. He could wrap his orders in any sort of "caring" cloth he wanted to, but she knew what they were. Commands. Orders. Demands. Rules.

They took their seats at the dais, Mairi on her side and Robin next to Finn. Once they all settled in, and the food started to arrive from the kitchen, her da, Robin, Craig, and Finn became involved in a deep conversation.

She wondered if her da would take the time and effort to speak with her sometime today. So far, he'd said nothing since he ordered her to marry Finn.

She shivered, once again feeling the embarrassment at being caught half undressed in Finn's arms the night before her wedding to another man.

A man who brought his mistress with him to his wedding.

Since Finn was now her husband, she assumed he would take on the laird's position when her da died, which had been intended for Sinclair.

She knew nothing about it at all because, being a woman, whatever animosity between them and the Sinclairs that may have come from the broken betrothal agreement, that information would not be passed along to her. Women held no status, had no control, and had no use.

Including when their men wanted them to be married off.

The food had been consumed and the tables pushed away for dancing. "Are ye feeling better, Alison?" Mairi touched Alison's hand.

"Aye. ‘Tis always better when these things are o'er. ‘Tis the anticipation that causes the most anxiety."

Finn turned from her father and leaned in close to Alison. "We need some time together before the raucous group in the corner begins to demand the bedding ceremony." He nodded toward the warriors toasting the bride and groom and each other.

Her eyes grew wide and she shook her head. "Nay. I doona want that."

"Alison, I am the second-in-command and head trainer for the warriors. Do ye think we will get away without it?"

"Merely tell them nay."

He chuckled. "They have consumed much ale, wine and whisky. There won't be telling them nay." He stood and held out his hand. "Come."

She linked fingers with his and he walked her off.

"Where do ye think ye are going with the lass?" One of the warriors shouted. Immediately mugs began to pound the table.

Finn raised his hands, a smile on his face. "We are only going for a walk." He tugged Alison's hand. "Hurry."

"‘Tis too cold to walk outside. We can go to my bedchamber."

He stared at her. "Ach, too much temptation, sweetheart. I really want to talk, but, with that distraction, I'm afraid verra little conversation will take place."

She felt her face flush, which only made her husband of a few hours chuckle.

"We shall use the library next to my da's solar."

With them both taken up with their own thoughts, it was a quiet walk to the library. Once they arrived, Finn placed his hand on her lower back, immediately bringing heat radiating from that spot to the rest of her body. He reached behind her and closed the door. "At least there is no bed here."

Again her face flushed. But this time, with the memory of Finn's large warm hand on her back, she began to understand a bit about how desire worked. She'd never experienced that with Archie Sinclair. But then, the man had never even kissed her. Not that she had wanted him to.

Finn waved to a chair. "Can we sit?"

"Of course." She took the comfortable chair facing another one just like it.

Her husband didn't sit right away but stood looking at her until she became uncomfortable. "Why are ye standing over me, staring?"

"Most likely because I doona really ken what to say."

She raised her chin. "Mayhap ye wish to apologize?"

His brows rose. "Apologize for what? If ye're referring to the kiss we shared that ended with us?—"

"Nay." She frowned. "I'm thinking ye might want to apologize for all the demands ye've made of me since ye arrived."

Finn placed his hands on his hips. "The only demands I made upon ye was to keep ye from killing yerself, or, in the case of parading past the lists, one of my men."

She pointed her finger at him. "I was merely returning to the keep after collecting flowers from my garden. I think ‘tis yer responsibility to keep yer men under control."

He growled. " I am always in control."

"Aye. That is the problem. Ye feel as though ye need to control everyone." She pointed her finger at him. "Ye are an arrogant mon, Mr. Mackay. Ye think ye always ken what's best for everyone. Ye are no' always right, ye ken."

"Perhaps ye can tell me, lass, what I spoke with ye about that was no' necessary to protect yerself."

She jumped up. "‘Tis was no' yer right to tell me what no' to do."

"As yer husband it is my duty and job to protect ye, even from yerself."

She pointed her finger at him. "I was no' yer wife when ye ordered me around like a bairn."

Finn ran his hand over his hair and took a deep breath. "Alison. I dinna ask to speak with ye so we could argue."

Finn studied his wife's demeanor which told him this wasn't going how he'd planned. He wanted to spend some time with her alone since they hadn't had a chance to speak since the brief time the laird had allowed them after she'd been ordered to marry him.

He knew once the bedding ceremony began, it would end with them together in bed, naked, which would make any kind of discussion on his part impossible.

He took complete responsibility for his actions. He was the one with experience, and Alison an innocent miss. He should have known better than to let their kiss go as far as it had. For as infuriating as the lass made him, the lust he felt for her was frightening.

What was truly frightening was that he'd lost control again. Twice now the woman had done that to him. When he'd attacked Archie Sinclair and when he let his lust for her consume him.

However, he had no idea how he would have sat this morning and watched his Alison marry the bastard Sinclair.

His Alison.

It hadn't taken long for him to make a claim on the woman, even if they hadn't yet shared a bed.

Just as the blame for the event that led to their marriage should fall on his shoulders, the fact that they were already arguing was his as well. Mayhap he did sound a tad overbearing, but, from what he'd seen since he'd arrived, no one seemed to have control over the lass's actions.

He had many things to do both as second-in-command and now heir to the laird. He could not spend his time worrying that his wife was in trouble and endangering herself.

Give her a bairn to worry about, he told himself.

All the time he'd been musing, Alison had been staring out the window, her arms crossed, her body tense. This would not do. He wanted to spend this time making amends with her so when they did retire for the night the only thing on their minds would be a proper wedding night.

He walked up to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to his chest. With his other hand, he moved her long, curly hair from her back to her shoulder exposing the soft, silky skin on her neck.

She shivered as his lips touched her. He nibbled on the spot, then soothed it with small kisses. "So soft."

With a slight moan, she leaned back against his chest. His hand moved up to cup her breast, his thumb circulating over her nipple, feeling pleasure as the nub tightened and she pushed herself harder against him.

He closed his eyes, telling himself he needed to get this conversation over with so they could return to the great hall, finish the celebration and retire to their bedchamber.

Finn turned her body, his arms encircling her. "I doona want to argue because I think we can make a good marriage." He leaned in and pressed his lips to her hair and mumbled. "We will have many bairns. Strapping sons and bonny girls."

"I doona wish to argue, either. But I also doona want to be told what to do." She leaned back and looked into his eyes. "I can defend myself."

He grinned. "Aye? How can ye defend yerself?"

"Doona laugh at me, Mackay. I am excellent with arrows. I also carry a sgian dubh with me."

"Ach, lass, that scares me even more. If someone gets close enough to ye for ye to stab him, he would be able to grab it off ye and use it to cut yer throat."

Seeing her expression change, knowing she was about to argue the point, he cupped her face and took her mouth in a completely possessive kiss. There was no better way to stop a lass from speaking than to keep her lips busy.

A pounding on the library door broke them apart.