“Why is she dressed so?” Alec demanded, though he already sensed the answer as Hamish sighed heavily.
“I brought her up like her brothers—an only daughter with her mother dying soon after her birth. What did I know of feminine things? She can outride them and out-hunt them?—”
“And out-swear them?” Alec broke in dryly, recalling Rowen’s blistering curses. “So this is the bride King Robert has bestowed upon me…reared to act like a man and as wild-spirited as an unbroken colt.”
“Aye, well, break her in then, Mackay, she’s yours now tae do as you wish!” Hamish’s face grown nearly as red as his beard, as if Alec had insulted him, he turned to his three sons still flanking him. “Let’s be gone from this place, the marriage is done.”
“Will you not join your daughter at our wedding feast?” Alec sensed the answer to his terse query, too, even before Hamish gave him a disdainful glance.
“You’re my lawful son-in-law now, but that doesna mean I have tae eat under your roof. It’s enough that we’ve honored the king’s decree and will keep the peace. Rowen is a Sutherland no longer, but a Mackay—and dinna forget King Robert expects a wee bairn from the two of you by late next summer as proof that you’ve held tae your vows.”
Hamish had spat out the last words and then strode from the chapel without another glance at his daughter and with his strapping sons hastening after him.
That left only the wide-eyed and still frightened-looking priest, Alec’s father, and the older woman, who rushed forward, wringing her bony hands, to sink down beside Rowen.
“My poor sweeting. I urged her tae eat, but she wouldna listen, Laird. She’s always had a mind of her own—och, forgive me. I’m her nurse, well, she ceased needing a nurse long ago, but I’m her kinswoman, too. Gaira’s my name, and she’s as dear tae me as if she were my own daughter. What are we tae do? She looks so pale! I’m going tae cry?—”
“Dinna cry, woman, that will do nothing tae help her,” Alec cut her off, though the tears welling in Gaira’s big brown eyes made him regret his brusqueness with her. “Look, she’s rousing.”
Indeed, Rowen had turned her head to groan softly.
For all that Hamish had raised her like a man, the lass was lovelier of feature than any Alec had ever seen and with a form beneath her mannish garb that hinted of womanly curves—his breath quickening.
Och, God, he was a man after all and Rowen, his wife. He did have the right to do with her as he wished, and tonight was their wedding night.
Another groan slipped from Rowen’s pale pink lips, her eyelids flickering open to reveal a gaze filled with confusion.
Again, Alec was struck by the color of her eyes…so vivid a blue in stark contrast to the redness of her hair. Her brows were a slightly darker red and her fair skin appeared as smooth as silk, which made him reach out to stroke her cheek to see if she bore a fever. Ravenous hunger could sometimes lead to illness?—
“Aagh, woman!” Alec wasn’t fast enough to pull away his hand before Rowen had bit down—hard—upon his thumb, Gaira gasping beside him.
“Och, Laird, she grew up wrestling with her brothers and knew many tricks tae best them! Let him go, lass, the man’s your husband now!”
Rowen didn’t seem to hear her, but ground down upon Alec’s thumb so fiercely with straight white teeth that he grimaced in pain—finally wrenching himself away from her.
His thumb throbbing from the curved row of red marks that had begun to bleed, Alec cursed under his breath.
He wasn’t surprised at all—how could he be after what she’d just done?—when Rowen swore right back at him and jumped shakily to her feet to straighten her rumpled tunic. Yet he was thankfully faster when her hand flew to the knife at her belt, Alec grabbing the weapon from its hilt and flinging it against the wall.
“So this is how it’s going tae be, aye? A wildcat for a wife who would rather bite and maim than accept a king’s decree?”
Alec grabbed her before Rowen could retort and flung her bodily over his shoulder, grimacing again as her balled fists struck his back and buttocks while she screeched in fury.
“Let me down, damn you! I hate you, Mackay, and you’ll never know anything different from me as long as you live!”
Grateful that he held her legs fast so she couldn’t kick him, Alec strode past his astonished-looking father while the priest made another sweeping sign of the Cross. Aye, God help him, he would need the help of heaven to tame his unwilling bride.
Alec didn’t head for the great hall where the tempting smell of food hung heavy in the air, making his own stomach growl. Instead he strode toward the tower as Rowen struggled against his hold upon her and rained fresh blows down upon him.
“Go on with you, then, you accursed scourge of Scotland! Lock me up and refuse me food and water, but it willna make me more willing—aye,never! I would rather starve tae death than remain your wife for another hour longer. Do you hear me, Mackay?”
Hear her? Alec’s ears were ringing from her howling, and he grunted in pain when she landed a particularly vehement blow to his left kidney. Yet her outcry had made him realize the futility of locking her in their bedchamber to try and tame her rebelliousness—and he turned on his heel instead and made his way to the great hall.
Rowen must have been surprised, too, by his sudden change of tactic for she had grown still as if trying to gauge what might come next.
“Sweeting, dinna fight your wedded husband, I beg you!” pleaded Gaira, who hastened close behind Alec, her frantic footsteps reminding him of the fluttering of a sparrow.
The woman’s name suited her as if her parents had known she would be short and slight, while his reluctant bride’s was more a man’s name—Alec guessing that must have been her father’s doing as he felt another well-landed blow to his spine.
