Only a few weeks ago, she couldn’t have endured the touch of his hand in hers. So much had changed between them. Within her expression, he saw faith and trust. His fingers tightened over hers in a silent promise to take care of her.
When the three cords were wrapped around his wrist and Morren’s, the MacEgans applauded with cheers and encouragement to kiss her. Trahern didn’t ask permission but touched his lips to Morren’s. They were hesitant, but she accepted his kiss of peace.
“Kiss her longer than that!” Ewan called out.
Trahern started to refuse, not wanting to embarrass his bride. But Morren had already risen up on her tiptoes. Though she was flustered, he saw amusement on her face.
This time when he kissed her, he tilted her face to meet his. He hardly heard the voices around them or the teasing when her unbound hand went around his neck.
When their lips touched, he gave her the kiss a new husband ought to give his wife. Hungry and heated, he captured her mouth, coaxing her to surrender.
Morren rested her hand upon his cheek, then broke free of the kiss to the sound of loud cheers. Her face was crimson, and Trahern held her waist close.
The remainder of the evening blurred, and he hardly remembered any of it, though they shared food and drink. He couldn’t take his eyes off of his bride, and at one moment, Morren cast him a smile.
“I’m not going to leave you, Trahern. Our hands are bound together,” she reminded him. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.”
And yet, beneath her words, he sensed a sudden edge, as though something bothered her. He lowered his voice to murmur, “You seem frightened. What troubles you?”
From the glance she cast towards Aileen, he sensed he knew what it was. “Let them believe what they want,” he said softly. “I won’t touch you.”
Morren tried to muster a smile, though her face had gone pale. Trahern led her away from the others so they could speak alone about whatever it was.
“I’ve been thinking about what happened between us last night,” she admitted. “I turned it over in my mind so many times, I could hardly sleep at all.”
He waited for her to continue, and she lowered her chin. “You told me what it would be like, if you gave into your desires.” A faint shiver rocked through her. “And though it terrifies me, I want to rid myself of the unwanted memories.”
She rested her bound hand upon his heart, staring into his eyes. “I want to become your wife in body, as well as in name. For however long that is.”
Chapter Nineteen
Laterthatnightafterthe feasting was over, the king and queen had offered Morren and Trahern a chamber to themselves. Unlike other weddings Morren had attended, there were no women to laugh and undress her. Thankfully, Aileen had kept the other wives away, allowing them privacy.
But now, Morren stared at the bed in the center of the room. It was small, leaving no doubt that she and Trahern would touch each other while they slept.
She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. The fear consumed her so badly, she could hardly move. She didn’t know if she could go through with her promise. At the deepest level, she was afraid of losing her courage. Of screaming and trying to push him away. Or worst of all, lying beneath him while he used her body for his own pleasure.
A hard knot formed in her throat, for she didn’t want to believe it would be like that. She wanted so badly to let go of the past and move beyond her fear. But she sensed that she would be nothing but a disappointment to him.
Trahern reached to loosen the cords that bound their hands. Morren took a breath, willing herself not to cry. To her surprise, he took her in his arms, holding her. His strong arms were like a shield, and she breathed in the welcome scent of a man who cared.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?” he murmured.
The words were an offer to escape his touch, to simply sleep beside him. But she found herself saying, “No. I’m all right.”
His hand pressed against her hair, loosening the plaited strands until they fell free around her shoulders. He removed the crown she’d worn, of greenery and heather. The green fragrance calmed her, reminding her of the hillside where Aileen had helped her find the late-blooming flowers.
“Come and sit,” he bade her, leading her to a wooden bench. A steaming basin of water rested upon the floor, no doubt placed there by the queen’s servants. She recognized sprigs of dried lavender floating in the water, no doubt to soothe her anxiety.
She started to take off her shoes, but Trahern interrupted, “Let me.”
He removed the shoes, immersing her bare feet in the water. His large hands washed her skin, massaging the soreness from them. Morren closed her eyes, surrendering to the gentleness of his touch. He poured warm water over her calves, his hands caressing her skin as though she were something precious.
Warmth slid over her, and she looked down into his eyes. He was focused upon her, humbling himself like a servant. When he saw her gaze, his hands grew still.
“Don’t fear me, Morren,” he said slowly. “I’ll make no demands of you.” He reached for a cloth and dried her feet. “As you said last night, nothing’s changed.” His face ventured a quiet smile.
She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this. And then, it occurred to her that he’d once planned to marry Ciara. Was he thinking of her, and what they’d shared together?
