Page 8 of His Forgotten Highland Bride

“At our expense,” he said with a scowl.

“You’ve got broad shoulders, and it doesn’t bother me overmuch. I’ve endured my share of name-calling. This was not so bad.”

His brows creased even more. “No one will call you names now that you’re my wife. I won’t stand for it. You’ll let me know right away, and I will handle it.” The fierceness in his eyes tempered quickly. “Or if I’m not nearby, speak to my grandsire. He’ll address it.”

Her initial flush of warmth at his concern withered. So quickly he wriggled out of taking care of her.

“Aye,” she murmured.

He pushed open the door to his chamber and nodded for her to go in before him. Everything was as she’d expected. Thick, dark fabrics were everywhere, and nothing was out of place. A pitcher holding a few fresh flowers sat on a table in the corner. Perhaps a maid’s kind welcome.

“If you feel you’re not ready to do this, we can put it off,” he said, briefly meeting her eyes.

“But the marriage isn’t official until we’ve consummated it.” There was still a chance he could change his mind until their marriage was legitimate. Despite everything, she didn’t want that.

“Aye, but no one would know what happens in our bed but us.”

“Are you suggesting a lie, husband?”

“I am suggesting I don’t like forcing myself on a lass who’s not willing.”

“But I am willing,” she nearly shouted in exasperation. Was she ready to lie with him? She had many questions and worries about the act. Hannah had given her more advice than Brenna expected a virgin to have, but she wasn’t sure how much of it was true. No doubt Hannah had embellished the truth to frighten her.

She’d never been so nervous, not when she’d jumped from the cliff into the loch, nor when she’d stood up on Brimstone’s back for the first time. Those things had frightened her initially, but they’d also brought her much joy.

This was sure to be the same. At least, she hoped so. She knew she would do what was needed to make this marriage work. This was her chance to start fresh, to cast off the reckless reputation that made her a laughingstock at Innes House.

To earn her husband’s approval and, perhaps, one day, his heart.

***

Ronan’s bride stood before the hearth, looking at the floor instead of at him. Despite Brenna’s outburst about being ready, he could see the truth in her worried greenish eyes and the stiff set of her shoulders. She seemed determined to have this happen tonight, which fit his plans nicely, so he persevered. “Please don’t be afraid,” he said as gently as he would to soothe a newborn colt.

“I’m not afraid,” she said so quickly and firmly that he had no choice but to believe her.

“Do you understand what is to happen between us now?” he asked, his nerves getting the best of him. Maybe he should have had more ale before bringing her to his chamber. He was not a green lad, but he’d never taken a lass’s virginity before, either, and it seemed a great responsibility.

“Aye,” she said crisply. “I will lie on the bed. You will lie atop of me and put your—” She waved in the direction of his groin as her cheeks turned pink. “There will be some pain, but I’m not to whimper or cry out, for it might disconcert you and impede your enjoyment.”

Impede his enjoyment? God’s balls. Who had taught her about relations between men and women? It sounded like torture. No wonder the lass was terrified. “I’ll try my best to be gentle. If you do cry out, don’t fret. I’ll not be angry or…disconcerted.”

She nodded and reached around the back of her gown. She undid her own laces, and her gown dropped in a pile at her feet.

“You don’t require help to undress?”

She blinked. “Oh, no. I learned to do it myself so I could go swimming whenever I wanted. I couldn’t take a maid with me. She might have told my mother, and I would have been scolded for being unladylike.”

Ronan wondered how often she’d been scolded for such a thing and was oddly proud that it hadn’t changed her. His bride was many things, but she was true to herself, and he admired that quality considerably in a man, so why not a woman?

She stepped out of her dress and removed her shoes and stockings as if it were a race.

“Slow down. We have all night.”

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry I’m not more to your liking,” she whispered, covering herself with her thin arms. “Hannah said men sometimes wish to put out the candles so as not to have to look at their partner if she is not to his taste. She told me to expect such a thing tonight.”

He frowned at both his doubts and her sister’s questionable tutelage. “You’re lovely,” he said, wanting to compliment her as a husband should. In truth, she was more enticing than he’d expected. Her brown hair rippled over the pale skin of her bare shoulders, with strands of copper glowing in the firelight. The slight slope of her hips enticed him. “I would like to see you, wife.”

Her hazel eyes glittered in the candlelight. As he removed his shirt, she watched with blatant curiosity. She stood before him in nothing but her shift and bravely reached down to loosen the tie, but he stopped her. Because something had stopped him. The way her hands trembled made his breath catch. He would be a gentleman and wait until she was ready and not rush her, despite the need growing under his kilt. “If you would rather wait…”