Though, frankly, she could have taken a good guess.
“If there’s anything ye need fae me or the guards, be sure to let me know,” Ewan continued.
She bit her lip. A part of her wanted to tell him that there was only one man that she needed protection from in this place, and it was the one she had just promised herself to, the one who had just ordered her to swear her fealty and love to him for the rest of her life.
Though, the way he touched her, she could tell that nothing as innocent as love was on his mind.
By the time Ewan had retreated, the maids were clearing the food away, and a few of the clan elders were beginning to retreat and retire to their quarters. She could feel the claim in every glance that Tavish shot in her direction, and the creeping warmth began spreading down her back as she tried to make sense of what was going to happen next.
Her wedding night.
She knew what would be expected of her, of course she did. She was not a fool, no matter what he might have taken herfor, but she had never given herself to a man before. She had never thought of it even when she was betrothed to Callum… Well, they had been friends, and he would have suggested an acceptable way to approach the matter. She hadn’t felt passion for him, but she knew she could trust him. He would never have done anything to hurt her, and that, at least, was something she could cling to by way of comfort.
But Tavish? He seemed to hold no such sweetness towards her, and she had no idea where that would leave them. What did he think of her? What did he expect from her? She half-wanted to ask him, but that would have meant coming clean about what was on her mind, and she was sure he would only find some way to mock her for it.
Once the guests had left the room, she could feel the fear pulsing at the back of her mind, so all-consuming it seemed to take control of her entirely. She felt his eyes lingering on her, practically pulsing through her skin, and she did not dare look back at him. It felt like to acknowledge it would be to bring it to life there on the spot.
But he moved in close to her, his mouth just an inch or two from her ear, making sure that she heard every word as it passed his lips.
“It’s time, Ailsa.”
She glanced at him as he rose to his feet and offered her his arm. The perfect gentleman, or, at least, what could pass as one before he got her alone.
“Spare me the gallantries. I can find my way around?—”
Again, he wouldn’t let her have the last word. He leaned in, bending over her seat, locking his eyes on hers. The proximity made her uneasy in so many ways that all she wanted to do was run far away from him.
“Remember yer vows, wife. Ye will obey, honor, provide?—”
She took his hand then, only to make him stop frustrating her, and she allowed him to lead her from the Great Hall and towards their chambers upstairs. The dark smile on his face made her stomach turn.
Oh, how she hated him!
Then, she noticed how strong his arm felt under her grasp and how easy it would have been for him to take whatever he wanted from her. Such a thing should have frightened her, she was sure of it, but it didn’t. Instead, every time he touched her, her mind was cast back to his tongue against her lips like he was gorging himself on her and had no intentions of stopping.
When they reached his chambers, a grand bedroom at the head of the Keep that had a view of the rolling hills beyond, he moved away from her, leaving her standing in the doorway.
She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling ridiculous in her wedding dress. She was a bride, dressed for the ceremony, but what would take place in this room tonight was far from the eyes of God.
He half-turned his back to her, as if he could barely recall that she was there, and set about undressing himself; undoing the leather laces that held his shirt closed, withdrawing the dagger from his sock, and laying it on the small table next to the window. When he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, her breath caught slightly at the sight of his bare skin.
He was strong, there was no doubt about it, probably from all the time he had spent training with swords and axes; the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed as he moved, stripping down until he was in nothing but his kilt.
She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest, frozen to the spot as she waited for him to turn his attention to her.
And it didn’t take long till he did. He cast a gaze around to her, catching her eyeing him, and a grin spread over his face.
“I didnae take ye for a voyeur, lass,” he teased as he closed the distance between them.
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, looking away. “I’m nae.”
“Ye’d rather be involved, then?” he asked, leaning on the wall beside her.
He did not make a move to touch her, though some part of her wished he would. At least, then, she would be able to get it over with instead of standing at this strange distance, waiting for him to make his move.
“Ye should undress, wife,” he murmured, nodding to the dress that still served as some protection between him and his roving gaze.
She shook her head. “Tavish?—”
