Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"‘Tis time for the bedding!!" A few voices carried the message through the door, and most likely to the great hall.

"Aye," he shouted back. He winked at Alison. "‘Twill be fine, wife. I will make sure no one but myself sees yer naked body."

Instead of reassuring her, she blanched, but, before he could say anything more, a group of women barged through the library door, grabbed her and dragged her up the stairs to the bedchamber floor.

"Time for another drink, Mackay." His cousin, Logan, slapped him on the back and the group moved him downstairs.

Foot stomping, mugs banging on the tables and a great deal of cheering greeted them. He looked at the dais where Robin and Craig sat, grinning at him with their arms crossed.

It was annoying to remember how both his brothers managed to avoid the bedding ceremony at the behest of their wives.

However, their positions in the clan gave them the standing to throw the men out of their rooms. He, on the other hand, instead of status, had rowdy, drunk warriors to contend with, who had no intention of missing the highlight of the celebration.

They tried their best to get him drunk, most likely hoping he wouldn't be able to perform and they could tease him about it the next morning. He sighed, just about ready to race them upstairs since he doubted any of them could, at this point, more than stumble after him, when one of the lasses came downstairs announcing the bride was ready for her groom.

He was half carried, half pushed up the stairs. The women outside the door, just as enthusiastic as the men, opened the door.

Alison sat on the bed, her face as pale as new milk. She had curled herself up, with the bedcover pulled all the way up to her chin.

The men started to strip his clothes off, tossing them in every direction as Alison's eyes grew wider by the second.

Once he was stripped down to his skin, he backed up until the back of his legs hit the bed. He sat and held his hand up to stop the shouting. Finally, he was forced to let out a loud whistle to gain their attention.

"This is as far as the ceremony goes, lads. My wife and I would like some privacy."

"Nay!" one of the men yelled. "We have to put ye into the bed."

"Aye, how do we ken if the bride is ready for ye?"

Finn pointed to the door. "Out! All of ye. ‘Tis no matter but mine. Besides, ask yer ladies there who prepared Lady Alison." He looked over at the group of women, not as upset as the men because they'd gotten a good look at his body, very prepared to consummate his marriage.

One of the older women walked toward the men. "Let's go, lads. The mon is correct. Ye don't need to take a look at his wife." She pushed a couple of the men toward the door. "Come on, now."

Reluctantly, with a great deal of grumbling, they made their way out of the room. Once the door was closed, Finn hurried across the room and barred it.

When he turned back, Alison was sitting in the same position in the bed, except the bedcovers were now over her head.

"Would you like a whisky or glass of ale, now that the crowd has left us?"

She lowered the bedcovers enough that he could see her eyes. But nothing else. She nodded her response.

It was going to take some time to get his new wife to relax. The last bit of frenzy certainly hadn't helped.

"Um, do ye have something ye can put on? I think ‘tis rather chilly in here." He almost missed her mumbled words, but realized she was correct. His nakedness, while quite normal to him and other men, would make her uncomfortable.

"Of course, lass." He walked over to the bundle of clothes the men had just stripped off him and dropped his liene over his head.

Once he was covered, he said, "Why doona ye join me o'er here by the fire."

She shook her head. "They took all my clothes."

"This is yer bedchamber, is it no'? Just tell me where yer sleeping gown is, and I'll fetch it for ye."

"In there." She pointed to a wardrobe next to a trunk with a pitcher of water and a bowl sitting on it.

He rustled through a few things and then pulled out the filmiest sleeping gown he could find. Apparently still flustered from the bedding ceremony, she didn't notice how visible her body would be in the garment.

Well, he was certainly not going to point it out to her. He brought it over to her and she shimmed into it. "Thank ye, I feel better now."

He held out his hand. "Come join me by the fire for a drink and it will relax ye."

She smiled at him, took his hand and climbed from the bed. He was staggered. He'd spent so much time snipping with the lass that he never really studied her.

The woman was stunning. Her near naked body was perfect. Lush breasts with rosy nipples, a definite curve at her waist and generous hips. At the apex of her firm legs, a silky thatch of blonde hair drew his eyes.

His eyes moved up to take in her wavy blonde hair that fell over her shoulders and rested on her back and breasts.

He actually had to shake himself to remember what he was going to do. The fire. He was bringing her to the fire. To warm her up. He, on the other hand, was so warm an ice cold bath in the loch sounded good just about now.

Or a quick drink and then to the bed.

He gave her a small glass of whisky and settled in the chair next to her. They stared at the fire and sipped the drinks.

She smelled of flowers, sunshine, and all things woman. He kept taking quick glances at her glass which she seemed to be holding onto like a lifeline.

"Alison. Are ye nervous?"

She took a deep breath, bringing his eyes directly to those beautiful breasts that he wanted to cup, squeeze, rub. He closed his eyes. He had to get control.

"I am a bit nervous. I haven't had a mam for a long time, to teach me, and, as much as I tried to listen to the maids whisper among themselves, I ne'er really kenned what they were talking about. I just heard a lot of giggling."

He ran his hand over his hair. Should he tell her, or show her? He was all for showing, so maybe, if he went slow, it would not frighten her.

Then he remembered this was Lady Alison, the woman who had no problem standing up to him. She rode horses like a demon with no escort, claimed to be proficient with the bow, and bragged about her sgian dubh . He was certain—once he broke through her initial fear—all the passion he'd sensed in her in the stable would take over.

Certain of himself now, he took the glass out of her hand and, placing his hands on her shoulders, turned her toward him. "Wife, ye are truly the most beautiful lass I've e'er seen."

Her face flushed and, before she was able to question or dispute him, he covered her plump lips with his, starting out slow and thoughtful. It didn't take long for her to demand more.

He was willing.