“I am still abed,” she squeaked in protest even as her heart skipped from a burst of eagerness. “Canna it wait?”
“I said we would be wed by the church as soon as I could set hands upon a priest. I have one, so we will be wed. There will be no chance left for anyone to try and deny our son his birthrights. I will send Kate to ye.”
His high-handedness irritated her, but she did not argue. She wanted this union sanctioned by the church. Foolish or not, it would make her feel more secure. Alexander was a man who respected vows, and honored them, and those spoken before a priest were far more binding than the implied ones of handfast. She firmly pushed aside the memory of a promise and Malcolm MacCordy.
The priest was young and nervous, clearly perturbed by the irregularity of the wedding, but he performed it. Ailis suspected that he was more concerned about angering or offending Alexander. There was also the hint that the priest felt it was far past time to sanction the union.
When it was all over, Alexander firmly, and quickly, cleared the room. Ailis could no longer hide how weary she felt. The combination of her first meal in days plus being married had sapped what strength she had. She clasped her new husband’s hand in hers when he sat down on the bed. It was frustrating to think that there would be no wedding night for a while.
“Ye are stuck with me now, Alexander MacDubh,” she murmured as she closed her eyes.
“Aye.” He pressed a kiss into her palm, still holding her hand even though she was asleep.
He studied her sleeping face. She was his now. The sense of calm that gave him surprised him only a little. He was growing accustomed to uncharacteristic emotions where she was concerned. Handfast had served its purpose, but now she was his in the eyes of God and the church. It would take both those powers to protect any man who tried to take her from him.
