They made their way through the small crowd as flowers were thrown and excited cheers rang out. But Helena noticed that the red-haired girl who hung at the back of the group was still glaring daggers in her direction.
She leaned closer to her sister-in-law. “Alice,” she asked quietly, “who is that girl there? With the red hair?”
Looking around Helena briefly, Alice waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, that’s just Felicia. She’s an orphan Alexander found on the front line. All of her family was killed—she only survived by hidin’ in a vegetable storage cabinet in their home.”
She paused, noticing the scowl on the young woman’s face for the first time.
“Dinnae worry about her. She’ll get over it. She’s harmless, anyway. I suppose she’s suspicious of Alexander takin’ a MacPherson as his bride, considerin’ the circumstances.”
They stepped into the hall and took their seats at the main table, while the rest of the congregation filed in behind them.Alexander and Michael brought up the rear, still discussing something in low tones.
The feast lasted well into the evening. Ale flowed freely, and music was sung cheerfully. Though they had kept the ceremony small, the whole keep had gathered to celebrate.
I must send a message to Faither, to inform him that we are now officially married. Well, almost. We still need to consummate our marriage.
After more than an hour of being tortured by her thoughts, Helena worked up the nerve to excuse herself. She put a hand on Alexander’s arm to draw his attention, and her breath caught when those hazel eyes flicked to her.
“Would it be too forward of me to ask to be excused? I’d like to write a letter to me faither informin’ him that we are now wed, and send it out with the first rider on the morrow. Also…” She blushed slightly, averting her gaze. “I’d also, ah, like to have time to prepare meself for, um, for what’s to come. To, ah, to please ye, Me Laird.”
The smile that spread across Alexander’s face was less of a charming one and more of a taunting one, irritating her. But she held her tongue. He then touched her hand, making the butterflies in her belly flutter madly, before motioning for Margaret to accompany her.
“See that Lady MacAllister has everything she needs—I’ll be up in a bit. Tell Frync that he rides out with the sun to MacPhersonCastle with a letter to her faither, so he shouldnae get pished this evening,” he instructed. Then, he leaned over to whisper in Helena’s ear, “I’ll see ye in a while. I look forward to discoverin’ what treasures lie beneath that dress, lass.”
Helena swallowed nervously and nodded, before slowly standing up and retreating to their rooms. Margaret helped her change into the simple white linen nightdress with the flowers embroidered on the collar and sleeves, then led her to Alexander’s room next door, setting out a quill and blank parchment on the writing desk for her to use.
Helena took in the large bed, the dark canopy, the clan crest over the fireplace, and the various effects throughout the room. She ran her fingers over the claymore that lay on the mantelpiece.
“Goodnight, Me Lady,” Margaret said, nodding and leaving the room quietly, closing the door behind her.
Helena turned to the task at hand, sitting at the desk to write to her father about her marriage and how the war was over now that the two clans were united.
She finished folding the letter and reached for Alexander’s seal, realizing that this would be her first official action as a MacAllister and not a MacPherson. As she pressed the seal into the wax and watched it dry, the door to the bedchamber opened, revealing Alexander.
“Oh! Ye scared me,” she gasped as she jumped slightly, dropping the seal. She quickly grabbed it and put it back in its tray.
“Me apologies,” Alexander said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Is that letter for yer faither?”
“Aye.”
She looked down at the parchment again, the wax fully dry now. She ran her fingers over it thoughtfully before picking it up and holding it out to him.
As Alexander took it, his fingers brushed hers lightly, the touch shocking them both for a brief moment. Their eyes met at that moment, and Helena turned away, blushing.
The nerves she’d felt earlier hadn’t ebbed away, and she knew that much relied on their wedding night. He took the letter and returned to the hallway, speaking in a low voice to a servant outside. A few moments later, he stepped back into the room and closed the door behind him.
Helena’s anxiety rose as she realized this was it—this was about to happen. Standing abruptly, she crossed her arms to hide her breasts as she faced him, her eyes seeking out the fibers in the rug. She started counting them hopelessly to distract herself from her growing panic.
So, she was surprised when Alexander crossed the room to the bed, not saying more than a single word to her.
“Wife,” he rasped.
Then, to her surprise, he kicked off his boots, lay down on the bed, and closed his eyes. In a matter of seconds, he was snoring… and she was utterly baffled.
What in the world do I do now?
She had imagined several ends for their wedding night. This was not one of them.
Mags jumped up on the bed beside the snoring hulk of a man, kneading the blanket for a long minute before settling beside him. Yawning, he looked at her through expectant green eyes as if urging her to lie down as well.
