“Why didnae ye e’er go to a wedding?”
“I was rarely taken anywhere, Uncle,” she said very quietly, hoping not too many people overheard her words.
“Weel, looking at ye all done up bonnie like that, I cannae see why.”
“Why, thank ye, Uncle. That was a lovely compliment.” She smiled even more when he blushed a little, suddenly discomforted by uttering flatteries. “Ye do have an impressive group of men under your command. So impressive I think the priest was a little nervous.”
“Ah, aye, I noticed that. He is a Lowland laddie, so we have to be understanding. Our ways have ne’er been his and he needs to learn them.”
“Ye couldnae get a Highland priest?”
“There arenae that many that go into it, I suspicion.”
Just as Cecily opened her mouth to ask, Artan whispered in her ear, “I wouldnae ask that question if I were ye.”
When she looked at her uncle she suddenly recognized the glint in his eye. “Tsk, Uncle,” she murmured. “And on my wedding day. Have ye no shame.”
“Nay, none at all,” he said cheerfully and grinned at Meg, who was laughing.
There was a jovial air to the feast that made it so much more enjoyable than the few she had endured at Dunburn, Cecily wondered how Artan had endured those meals. It had all been made even worse by the fact that few had made any secret that they considered Artan little better than some animal. Cecily was not fool enough to think she would have been treated quite so kindly by everyone if she had just been a Lowlander. It was her connection to the laird and Meg’s as well that kept them from feeling like complete misfits.
When it was late enough to escape without attracting the shocked attention of everyone, Artan signaled Meg and Crooked Cat to take Cecily upstairs. She had done him proud tonight. Her manners and her sweetness would have been acceptable at a king’s table. There had been an odd reserve in her manner, however. It was as if she played some game or feared a misstep so much that she took each one with supreme care. This was his wedding night, but it was hardly their first, and he was beginning to need an answer to the puzzle that had become his wife more than he needed to leap right into bed with his bride. By the time Artan got to their bedchamber he had honed his curiosity to a fine edge. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.
Meg slipped into the seat next to Angus and murmured a thank you when the page poured her some wine. “She certainly looked pretty.”
“Aye, she did, and sometimes she seemed at ease. But other times, weel, ’twas looking and listening to a stranger.” Angus shook his head. “Over the last few weeks that has happened more and more.”
“I fear Anabel has a verra long reach,” muttered Meg.
“What do ye mean?”
“Anabel had a heavy hand when she taught Cecily all that young ladies are supposed to know. One reason I accepted Artan and trusted him was because he wasnae like the courtiers cluttering up the house then. But Anabel and Edmund are. That is what ye saw here tonight. For reasons only she can understand, Cecily has decided to try to be a perfect lady. I sensed it shortly after Artan got better. If I didnae ken better, I would think she made a promise to God that she would be a good wife and a perfect lady if He just let Artan live.”
“And then the laddie opened his eyes.”
“It would be just that girl’s luck. She makes a promise to be something she hates and all the fates turn round and make sure she has to.”
“Weel, it wasnae so bad. Just a bit of a surprise.”
“Just wait, Angus. Just wait. It willnae be long before one of ye wishes to strangle her.”
“If being a lady has rules that make it all so objectionable to people, then why do any of them do it?”
Meg grinned. “It is objectionable when it takes a good lass like Cecily and turns her into a person ye dinnae ken and probably cannae get to know. It is certainly objectionable if ’tis Anabel doing the teaching, for she is the worst of the lot.”
“I will, but then it isnae really my problem, is it?” Angus grinned and sat back to sip his wine and watch his guests.
Artan opened the door to their bedchamber, ready and eager to question his bride. He took one look at her in her thin linen gown with her long red hair hanging loose down her back and he forgot every question he had had ready. He just wanted to rip his clothes off and then rip hers off and they would proceed to the next step with speed and vigor.
He took a deep breath to calm himself. In many ways, his wife was still very innocent. A man did not rush an innocent. The very last thing he needed was to scare Cecily so badly she ran from the room. With the sort of luck he had had lately, he would be willing to bet that half of their wedding guests would be in just the perfect place at just the right time to see the future laird of Glascreag chasing the future lady of Glascreag through the halls of the keep. Glancing down at himself, he realized he had already removed half his clothes and decided they would quickly be telling everyone that he had been chasing his bride through the halls while naked.
He stepped up to Cecily, thinking that she looked more determined than anxious. Then again, he mused, she was Angus’s niece. He suspected it would take more than a naked Highlander in pursuit to scare her.
“I thought ye looked lovely in your wedding gown,” he murmured, then lightly fingered the fine linen lace trimming the placket of the night dress, “but in this ye look like an angel.”
This was going to be a lot more difficult than she had thought if he was going to be complimenting her and looking so interested. It was easy enough to remain only dutiful for a man who simply says it is time to try for an heir, or so it had been implied, but this was so much different. This was heat and want, and everything inside of her was answering that call.
Artan pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He could feel the heat through his shirt and he still wanted all their clothes gone now. It was not long, however, before he got his wish.
