Maya Banks - In Bed with a Highlander

“You must keep your mouth closed.”

“I see.”

She nodded to reinforce her statement. “Aye, there are no tongues involved in kissing. ’Tis undignified.”

“Undignified?”

Again she nodded. This was going better than she imagined. He was taking her instructions quite well.

“Mother Serenity told me that kisses are for the cheek or the mouth, but only in very intimate situations. And they shouldn’t last overlong. Just enough to convey the proper emotion. She never mentioned anything about a tongue. It can’t be proper for you to kiss me and stick your tongue inside my mouth.”

His lips twitched in a suspicious manner. He even put a hand to his mouth and rubbed firmly for several moments before he lowered it and said, “And your Mother Serenity is an authority on kissing, is she?”

She nodded vigorously. “Oh aye. She told me everything I needed to know for the eventuality of my marriage. She took her duty very seriously.”

“Perhaps you should instruct me personally on this kissing matter,” he said. “You could show me the way of it.”

She frowned but then remembered this was the man she was taking as her husband. In that case, she supposed it was entirely proper, and even expected, that she should offer instruction in the matter of loving. It was very decent of him to be so understanding and to offer to correct the matter immediately. Why, they were going to get along quite well.

Feeling much better about her impending nuptials, she leaned forward and pursed her lips, prepared to show him the way of it.

As soon as her lips touched his, he grasped her shoulders and hauled her even closer.

She felt swallowed up. Consumed. Like he was absorbing her very essence.

And despite her stern lecture and patient instruction, he used his tongue.

CHAPTER 12

“Wake up, my lady! ’Tis your wedding day.”

Mairin pried open her eyes and groaned at the sight of the women crowding into her small chamber. She was exhausted. Her late-night escape attempts and the time spent pacing her chamber had caught up to her. After last night’s conversation with the laird, she’d fallen into a deep sleep.

One of the women threw aside the furs covering the window, and sunlight speared through Mairin’s eyeballs with razor-sharp clarity.

Her moan was louder this time and it set off a titter of laughter through the room.

“Our mistress doesn’t sound excited to be marrying our laird.”

“Christina, is that you?” Mairin grunted out.

“Aye, lady. ’Tis I. We’re having hot water brought up for a bath.”

“I bathed last evening,” Mairin said. Perhaps it would gain her an extra hour of sleep.

“Oh, but a bath on your wedding morning is a must. We’ll wash your hair and work sweet-smelling oils into your skin. Maddie makes them herself and they smell divine. The laird will be most appreciative.”

The laird wasn’t uppermost on her mind this morning. Sleep was.

Another giggle raced around the room, and Mairin realized that once again, she’d given voice to her thoughts.

“And we’ve brought you a gown to be married in,” another of the women said.

Mairin looked over, trying to remember the name of the young woman who was beaming excitedly at her. Mary? Margaret?

“Fiona, my lady.”

Mairin sighed. “Sorry. There are so many of you.”

“I took no offense,” Fiona said cheerfully. “Now would you like to see the gown we’ve fashioned for you?”

Mairin shoved herself up to her elbow and stared through bleary eyes at the assembled women. “Gown? You sewed a gown? But I agreed to marry the laird only last evening.”

Maddie didn’t look the least bit apologetic. She smiled broadly at Mairin as they held up the gown for her to see. “Oh, we knew it was only a matter of time before he persuaded you, lass. Aren’t you glad we began sewing? It took two solid days of round-the-clock sewing, but I think you’ll be happy with the result.”

Mairin stared at the beautiful creation in front of her. Tears crowded to the surface, and she blinked to keep them at bay. “ ’Tis beautiful.” And it was. It was rich green brocade and velvet with gold-trimmed sleeves and hem. Around the bodice were intricately embroidered designs with gold threads that shone in the sunlight.

“I’ve never seen anything to rival it,” she said.

The three women beamed back at her. Then Maddie went over to the bed and yanked the covers back. “You don’t want to keep the laird waiting. The priest arrived at dawn this morning, and the laird is quite impatient to have the ceremony done.”

For the next hour, the women washed, scrubbed, and rubbed Mairin from head to toe. By the time she was done with the bath and laid out on the bed for them to work in the scented oils, Mairin was perilously close to falling into unconsciousness.

They’d washed and dried her hair and then brushed it until it crackled and shined. It fanned over her back, satiny fine. Mairin had to admit, the women knew how to make a woman feel her best on her wedding day.

“All done,” Christina announced. “ ’Tis time for the dress and then you’re off to your wedding.”

Just then a knock sounded on the door and Gannon’s voice boomed through the heavy wood.

“The laird wants to know how much longer.”

Maddie rolled her eyes and then went to yank open the door, though she kept her body between Gannon and the inside of the room so he wouldn’t look on Mairin’s nakedness.

“You tell the laird we’ll have her down as soon as we can. These things can’t be rushed! Would you have the lass not looking her best on her wedding day?”

Gannon muttered an apology and then backed away, promising he’d relay the news to the laird.

“Now then,” Maddie said as she returned to Mairin. “Let’s get this gown on you and then downstairs to the laird.”

“They’ve been at it for hours,” Ewan muttered. “What could possibly take so long?”

“They’re women,” Alaric said, as if that explained everything.

Caelen nodded and turned up his mug to drain the last of his ale.

Ewan sat in his high-backed chair and shook his head. His wedding day. There was a marked difference in this day and the day he’d wed his first wife.

He hadn’t thought of Celia except in passing for quite some time now. Some days he had difficulty conjuring the image of his young wife to mind. The years had passed, and with each year, she’d faded more from his memory.

He’d been a much younger man when he’d wed Celia. She, too, had been young. Vibrant. He remembered that much. She always had a ready smile. He’d considered her a friend. They’d been childhood playmates before training had become his life. Years later, their fathers had seen fit to ally themselves and marriage between the clans made sense.

She’d borne him a child in their second year of marriage. By the time the third year rolled around, she was dead, his keep was in ruins, and his clan nearly decimated.

Aye, their wedding day had been a joyous occasion. They’d feasted and celebrated for three days. Her face had been alight with joy, and she’d ed the entire time.

Would Mairin smile? Or would she come to their marriage with those same wounded eyes she’d had when she arrived?

“Where is she, Papa?” Crispen whispered beside him. “Do you think she changed her mind?”

Ewan turned to smile at his son. He stroked his hand over the lad’s hair in a reassuring manner. “She’s just getting dressed, son. She’ll be here. She gave her word, and as you know, she puts great store in keeping her word. Women like to look their best on their wedding day.”