Arran dropped his head to the mattress and muttered a week’s worth of curses. He started to tell whoever was at the door to leave them alone, but he knew his clan was waiting for him to officially present Lady MacArthur.
His mood soured, but only for a moment.
“Ye look beautiful, Skye,” he murmured.
Her hair was fanned out on the pillow, the band of flowers now gone. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, begging for more.He watched her breasts rise and fall, not quite free from her corset, but the ample, soft curve and the hint of a pink nipple peeked through.
He fought the urge to lower his head and indulge in a feast of a different kind. “We must go,” he sighed. “The clan wants to meet ye, Lady MacArthur.”
He rolled off her and was surprised that his legs were weak.
What power does she have over me?
He offered her his hand to help her stand, and he was proud to see that she too was unsteady on her feet.
Arran squeezed her hand and moved to open the door, but she suddenly squeaked. “Arran! I cannae go out like this!”
He stopped, turned, and looked her up and down slowly. “Like what?” he asked seductively.
She swatted him on the shoulder and gave him a warning look. “Look at me! Me breasts are almost hanging out, and me hair is a mess! I cannae face yer clan like this.”
Arran started to tell her that she never looked better, but she was right.
Skye righted her dress and fastened the front, then she ran her finger through her hair and nervously smoothed down her skirts. “Do I look all right now?”
Arran smiled. “Aye, ye do, wife.”
But he didn’t tell her she still looked as if she’d been kissed and kissedwell.
He took her hand and opened the door, leading her out of his chamber. When he reached the landing that overlooked the Great Hall, a loud cheer went up.
“Clan MacArthur!” Arran boomed, and the room quieted. He raised their clasped hands and announced, “I present to ye Skye Gilroy, Lady MacArthur!”
The hall erupted in cheers and well wishes. Skye smiled, and Arran’s chest swelled.
Together they walked down into the Great Hall and took their seats at the head table. Magnus and Fionn sat to Arran’s left, and Elsie sat to Skye’s right.
Almost immediately, the sound of fiddles and bagpipes echoed through the hall, and the floor filled with dancing men, women, and children. Skye watched and clapped her hands, but a look of concern flashed across her face.
“What is the matter, Skye?” Arran asked.
“The food, Arran.”
Arran looked down at the table. Platters of roast duck with potatoes, parsnips, and carrots had been placed in front of each of them. Another platter of oatcakes with jars of honey to drizzle on laid in the center of the table. A large bowl of peas and another of cabbage, both seasoned with butter and spices, and a wheel of yellow cheese and dried apples sat on the side.
“There willnae be enough for the guests, Arran,” Skye explained. “Astrid could have never cooked enough for this many.”
“Ye are right, Skye,” Arran agreed. “But watch.”
Skye looked at the door that led to the courtyard and saw three long wooden tables being hauled into the Great Hall. As soon as they were lined up, a procession of women filed in, and plate after plate and too many bowls to count were placed on the tables.
Some brought leftover bread from breakfast. Others brought cheese or fruit. There were several platters of fish, hard-boiled eggs, and porridge. Stews and a few baked chickens were added to the lot.
Skye’s mouth watered at the delicious aromas. She’d not expected afeast!
“Arran, they have brought so much food!”
“I wanted me clan to celebrate with us. Dinnae worry, Skye. Each family was happy to contribute, and I made sure they were compensated.”
