Page 19 of A Bride for the Kilted Beast

“I swore I would, did I nae? But can ye spare me a pillow and a blanket?”

“Aye. Take the coverlet to lay on too.” She passed him what he needed, and he got up, setting the debris of their meal on a nearby table before spreading the coverlet on the floor and arranging his blanket and pillow.

Lillie climbed into bed and pretended to close her eyes while he took off his sword belt and laid it down on the floor beside the coverlet. Then he stripped off his coat and vest. His shirt fell open, revealing black, springy hairs on his broad chest, and when he lay down, the huge muscles in his arms and shoulders rippled.

She frowned when the sight unexpectedly fanned the little flame he seemed to have set burning inside her. It warmed her through and through in a way she did not understand. And she hated it.

Soon, she heard his breathing slow and knew he was asleep. Feeling safe, she allowed herself to give way to her weariness and slip into comforting slumber.

Diarmaid awoke with the dawn. He sat up, running his fingers through his hair, casting about him and wondering where he was. Then, when he glanced over and saw the bed with the slight figure of his new wife huddled beneath the covers, it all came back to him.

For a few moments he stayed put, listening to her soft, regular, breathing, realizing she was fast asleep. Not wishing to wake her just yet, he rose from his hard bed on the floor as quietly as he could and pulled on his coat and vest. He carefully put on his belt and boots and padded over to the bed. Looking down at his bride, he smiled.

He could not help thinking she resembled an angel, her finely cut features perfect in repose, her long blonde tresses spread over the pillow, lips slightly parted. He had to admit it was a tempting prospect, more so, he joked with himself, because she was not talking. He briefly toyed with the idea of getting naked and getting in bed with her.

Nay, lad, dinnae break yer word or she’ll never trust ye. Just be patient. Tonight will be yer night!

With a heavy sigh, he put his lusty thoughts aside and, after a brisk wash and shave and a change of shirt, he gave his unruly hair a cursory combing and crept from the room, steeling himself for the morning’s council meeting. It promised to be another rough ride, for he could see no way out of admitting the marriage had not been consummated on the wedding night.

On his way to the council chamber, he stopped off next door to fetch Ciarán along with him. But his brother was just coming out of his chambers, looking the worse for wear.

“Wheesht, man, ye look sick as a dog. I see ye celebrated me wedding well enough, Braither,” Diarmaid remarked, giving Ciarán a hard slap on the back.

His brother groaned and cringed away, clutching his head. “Ow, ugh! Why did ye havetae do that? Are ye tryin’ tae kill me? I feel bad enough already.”

Diarmaid laughed and feigned another slap, but Ciarán dodged away. Secretly, Diarmaid felt a little bit jealous of his brother, who had clearly made merry at his wedding party in a way he, the groom, had not been able to.

But the thought of what he was about to face in the meeting soon overtook that, and he and Ciarán set off, wending their way through the castle hallways, finally reaching the council chamber near his study.

When Diarmaid entered the chamber, he was greeted by a ring of inquisitive, expectant faces staring at him from around the table. The pair took their seats.

“Good day tae ye all,” Diarmaid said, leaning back in his chair, ready to face the interrogation he knew was about to begin with as much cool aplomb as he could muster.

It fell to Andrew Latham to ask the burning question clearly on the minds of everyone present. The chief advisor cleared his throat and smiled placatingly at Diarmaid before speaking.

“Good day tae ye, melaird. We all congratulate ye on yer marriage again, of course, and I for one was very pleased tae meet Lady Kincaid yesterday, even if it was only briefly. We all hope she is feelin’ better today.”

“Thank ye, that is kind, I’ll tell her ye send yer regards,” Diarmaid replied with a nod.

“I hope ye willnae mind if I enquire on behalf of the council as tae the success of the wedding night, melaird. In the, er, unusual circumstances, ye ken the importance of the marriage being consummated with some urgency. Can ye assure us that has now taken place?”

Diarmaid stared at Andrew for a moment, contemplating whether to lie or not. Deep down, it secretly niggled a little at his sense of manhood to have to admit his bride remained untouched. At the same time, he knew it would be foolish to lie to the council, for he needed its support in case Lennox dared to launch an attack on the clan to retrieve Lillie.

“I’m afraid I have tae tell it hasnae,” he told them bluntly, to be greeted with a chorus of shocked exclamations. Brows wrinkled, heads were shaken, and grumbles of furious disapproval filled the chamber.

“But why nae, melaird?” demanded Latham, looking surprised and unhappy.

“There was a very good reason why nae. As ye ken, me bride was taken ill last night at the party, and we had tae retire. Only a brute would’ve taken advantage of her in that state, the poor wee lass,” Diarmaid added loudly, feigning an expression of husbandly concern to garner sympathy.

But he soon realized that if he expected sympathy from his councilmen, he was about to be gravely disappointed.

“Nae consummated?” another man gasped out, his tone disbelieving as he stared back at his Laird. “But this cannae be!”

“’Tis nae been heard of fer a Kincaid nae able tae consummate his marriage on the wedding night,” one of the men pointed out accusingly.

Diarmaid ignored him. “As I said, the lady was unwell. It was impossible to consummate the union,” Diarmaid repeated, his irritation rising at their interest in knowing the ins and outs of his marriage bed.

“But melaird, ye ken as well as we dae that the marriage vows mean nothing without consummation. This is a troubling turn of affairs, I must tell ye,” Latham said, his face lined with worry.