“There is a sight I never thought to see,” Mariota told Stellan as they crossed the bailey. She nodded at his father and Seamus. “They look like old friends.”
“Old drinking buddies at the very least,” Stellan said in agreement.
“They’ll achieve that this night, I have nay doubt,” Mariota said as he handed her up the steps into the keep and walked her to the high table. “I hope ye’ll agree with me to get through this celebration as quickly as we may,” she said while he seated her. “We have much to accomplish in private.”
Stellan’s pulse kicked up at her intimation. He quickly took his seat beside her. “Is now too soon?”
Mariota laughed at that. “I fear ’tis so. We must eat and perhaps dance before we can slip away.”
Later, while Mariota danced a women’s dance with the other lasses, Anders dropped into the seat beside him.
“How are ye?” Stellan was truly concerned how his feelings were affecting his brother.
Anders gave him a penetrating look. “I have sensed enough from ye to understand how true love feels. No’ lust, no’ just an enjoyable tumble with a different lass every night. Ye have taught me that I’ve been missing the most important thing in life.Love.I will carry that knowledge with me until I find a bride of my own. Ye have shown me that only one lass can make me feel what ye feel for Mariota.”
“Anders, I had nay idea.” Stellan didn’t know whether what he felt was shock at his brother’s admission or joy that he now would seek out and find the very thing that lit Stellan’s life from the inside out— a love like he had with Mariota.
Anders sat back and raised his cup. “Enough of that. I promise to get drunk or go hunting and get far away. Or both. All of those.” He gestured into the middle of the great hall. “How do ye like that? Cameron brought Mary with him. See? She’s dancing with the other lasses. We have three lairds attending yer wedding. That might be some kind of record.”
“I think ye are well on yer way to fulfilling yer promise to get drunk, brother. Have a care ye dinna drink too much.”
“I’m nay so far gone as I will be. Never fear, several lads are going with me to ensure I dinna fall from my horse and break anything. Congratulations, brother. Ye have a fine wife. Ye are a lucky man.”
“I hope soon ye will be as lucky,” Stellan told him.
Anders shrugged and stood. “A quest for another day, brother. Have a successful night. I’m on my way— elsewhere.”
Stellan watched him go, weaving a bit but still in control of his movements. As long as Anders had men with him, he would be well, but it still worried Stellan that he felt he had to takethese measures. After a moment’s thought, he realized Anders was doing it as much for his sake as for his own. For Stellan’s privacy. And Mariota’s. In that moment, he could not have loved his brother more. Their twin connection had brought them closer together than most siblings could ever imagine being, but there were limits. Anders recognized that and was taking measures to give Stellan the space he needed.
“Fare well, brother,” he said softly as Anders left the great hall. “I’ll speak to ye tomorrow.”
Mariota returned to him breathless from the dance and grinning. She put a hand on the back of his chair and leaned in close to his ear. “’Tis time? I saw Anders speaking to ye.”
“Aye, lass, ’tis time.”
“Good.” She stepped back to let him stand, then took his hand.
CHAPTER 22
Stellan was never clear if he walked her across the great hall or she walked him. Either way, they were greeted with applause, laughter, and catcalls. Mariota took it all in stride but wasted no time mounting the stairs. Stellan stayed right with her, not sure how much she had to drink and whether she could injure herself on the steps. But neither of them did.
Their chamber was lit with a multitude of beeswax candles. The scent of honey filled the air, along with the scent of roses. Bunches of them had been placed on every table, and when Stellan stepped forward and glanced into the bedchamber, he saw rose petals scattered on the bed.
“Courtesy of Nan and Brìghde, I’ll wager,” Mariota said as he closed the door behind them— and locked it.
“’Tis lovely,” Stellan told her, “but nay so lovely as my wife.”
Mariota blushed and dropped her gaze, then raised it again. “Ah, look!” The weaver’s four-season tapestry had been hung on the wall across from the hearth where it would be safe from soot and flames. “I’ve admired that so. She finished it just in time!”
“What do ye mean?”
“She said she was making it for the clan’s new lady. I guess that is me. Or will be, someday.”
“Sooner than ye think,” Stellan warned her. “Da will recruit ye to serve as hostess and chatelaine. Ye’ll be well practiced by the time ye must do both for me.”
She nodded, suddenly serious. “Long years from now, I hope. Yer da is strong and hale. And a good laird.”
“He is all of that, but I dinna wish to talk about him. This is our time. I wish to make love to my bride. To make ye mine in truth.”
