“Now, everyone out.” He looked at Gybbon. “And that includes ye.”
“But . . .” Gybbon began.
“Nay, we will go down to the hall and have some ale to calm tempers and discuss what happens next, then back to our own beds till morning. Mora, I warn ye, ye will have Jolene in here first thing in the morning.”
“Why?”
“To plan your wedding,” Sigimor said, and her brothers nodded, and then he went and shut the door to the passageway and locked it.
“But . . .”
“Sleep weel, Mora,” said Sigimor as he ushered everyone out the door only to poke his head back in a moment later. “Lock the door.”
She sighed when he left but got up and locked the door. She did not know why that was necessary as it appeared there were all sorts of places in this room for someone to sneak up on them. And how would Jolene get in if she locked the door?
“Not my problem,” she said as she climbed back into bed.
She lay on her back, scratched her cat’s ears when it jumped up to curl at her side. It appeared she would soon be married. Gybbon had not looked overly distressed by that, but she was annoyed. She had always hated it when she was ordered to do something. She just prayed Gybbon did not have any resentment over being dragged before an altar.
They had deprived her of the chance to have Gybbon ask her to be his wife and any of the loving that might have come after that. It should have been a lovely, romantic moment and they had stolen that away. Mora decided she would find a way to make her interfering brothers pay for that.
* * *
Gybbon sipped his ale and tried to ignore the way Niall and David were glaring at him. He did not like the fact that he was being pushed to the altar but knew he would have been going there soon anyway. Then again, he had only just begun to think of how to ask Mora to marry him and had a small sense of relief that he did not have to come up with something a woman would think was suitable. He had not been gifted with the skill at romantic talk such as some of his relatives were.
“I want Harcourt there,” he abruptly said as the brothers and Sigimor talked about the wedding they were busy planning for him.
“Already sent him word. The priest, too, and just received the reply from him.” Sigimor scowled. “Didnae need the sermonizing he put in, just an aye or a nay. He will be here in time to wed the sinners.” He grinned at Gybbon. “So be sure to look appropriately shamed.”
“I will do my best.”
“Ye should look shamed,” said David. “Mora is a proper lady.”
“Who tried to steal a horse,” Gybbon murmured, took another sip of ale and winked at a grinning Sigimor.
“That was under extreme circumstances.”
“Doesnae matter, David,” said Sigimor. “Now, I am eager to go back to my bed. Ye do not beat on him. I want him to look as handsome as possible when he stands afore the priest.” He got up and walked out.
Gybbon decided he would also go back to bed and make himself resist the urge to go through that clever door. He stood up and so did her brothers. Gybbon could see how badly they wanted to hit him and he did understand that urge. He had enough sisters and female cousins who had lain with the man they married before the vows were said to understand how it made a man feel.
“Nay, sorry ye cannae, but Sigimor wants my face pretty for the wedding.”
“Ye willnae be getting wed naked so we just need to avoid your face.”
“True, Niall, but I think your sister would notice those bruises later.” That remark made David take a swing at him, but Niall stopped it and Gybbon walked away.
Gybbon went up to his room and stripped off his clothes. He forced himself not to look at the door that would take him to Mora’s side. It would be folly to give in to that temptation. He would have her as his, without question, after tomorrow, so he could just control himself for one night.
* * *
Mora woke to Jolene and Mary and another maid, their arms full of clothes and flowers. She was tugged out of bed as some servants came in and filled a bath. Jolene poured some pleasantly scented lotion into the water, then urged Mora to shed her night shift and get in. Unused to undressing before other people, even though these were other women, Mora tossed off her night shift and hopped right into the water, sinking down until she was somewhat shielded.
She scrubbed herself as Mary washed her hair. Then she was dragged out, dried off, and had cream rubbed into her until she thought she would swoon from the embarrassment. At last she was dressed again in a gown Jolene was lending her, but she had no time to admire it. She was sat down in a chair and her hair dried, then Mary set a wreath of flowers on her hair. The other maid, Anne, handed her a small bouquet.
“Now ye can look,” said Jolene, and tugged Mora to her feet, then turned her so she faced a large looking glass.
Mora looked and lightly smoothed her hand down the fine gown Jolene had dressed her in. “It is beautiful.”
