Page 18 of The Cordial Bride

“Oh yes? Goat will be a first for me. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Calan cocked his head. “You really don’t know anything about what you’re getting yourself into, do you?”

“Not when it comes to the ‘before the wedding’ part.” He wished that he’d bothered to ask some questions. If he had, he’d have made sure that Isabeau procured a pig instead. Pork had to be far tastier than goat, in his estimation. No matter. Calan seemed genuinely pleased, and that’s what counted. “I promise I excel at the after-wedding customs.” He let his meaning show through his gaze.

On cue, Calan blushed again. “I have no doubt, my lord. You could have had all of that without the lifelong commitment.”

Ian got serious because it was important that Calan understood his feelings on the matter. “I know. You’ve been very generous with yourself, but I am a greedy man. I want all of you all the time.”

“Oh, well. It’s a good thing I feel the same way. But we both have to wait a couple of more days. Those are the rules, my lord, and perhaps it’s because I’ve broken quite a few of them in my life, I find I really want to obey these.”

“And so we shall.” Ian took one more step closer and leaned in. “You are worth the wait, darling boy.”

* * * *

It was funny how two days could feel like a lifetime when one was waiting for something they truly desired. Ian had dug deep for patience during the Shadow Valley’s betrothal customs. The welcoming tea ceremony at Councilwoman Celia’s house had been followed the next day by a gathering at the longhouse of the council and friends hosted by Isabeau and Amalie. As his only relatives available, the task had fallen to them to reciprocate on behalf of the groom’s family, despite the gifts they’d given already. At least the party had been more lively, with music and a large meal of local delicacies. But, as with the previous event, Ian and Calan were not afforded any real opportunity to be together. Everyone acted as chaperones, guarding the bride’s virtue in an old-fashioned way that had mostly fallen out of favor in Moorcondia. Not so much, apparently, in Shadow Valley. The forced celibacy had been driving Ian mad. His only outlet for his constant state of arousal had been his own hand, and that was wholly inadequate, given Calan’s proximity.

It all changes tonight.

The wedding was now finally upon them. Calan had chosen to have the ceremony by the fountain at the heart of the maze. It was the bride’s prerogative to choose the place for the wedding, and with the agreeable weather, this outdoor venue suited it very well. As Ian stood in his black velvet tunic and trousers trimmed with gold, he was glad that he’d brought formal clothing on the chance that Shadow Valley would require it for some occasion. He wanted to look his best when he bound himself to his bride. It was a matter of pride, and Calan deserved the best that Ian could give him. He had no idea what the boy, himself, would be wearing, but it hardly mattered. He was always stunning in Ian’s eyes.

Beside him, his sister and niece were beautifully decked out in matching blue silk gowns with seed pearls sewn into the bodices. Amalie was practically vibrating with excitement. Unlike her mother, the girl had no trouble accepting the idea of Ian marrying another man. She was thrilled to be a part of it all, however minor her role. Given how young she was, she probably didn’t appreciate that this union guaranteed that she would one day be the Countess of Charteris. Ian was pleased with that outcome. It freed him to enjoy his marriage without guilt, and while Isabeau’s silent censure was a disappointment, he also hoped she’d come around to accepting Calan as Ian’s wife.

A sudden hush among the milling crowd told him his bride had arrived. A moment later, the guests parted and Calan came into view. He was on his aunt’s arm, but Ian barely noticed the dour woman. His gaze was homed in on the boy, resplendent in all white. His long tunic flowed out by his calves, and his trousers were gathered at his ankles. Cloth shoes the color of oatmeal blended into the packed earth path, giving the impression that he floated above the ground. A garland of colorful flowers served as a belt, and a small version of the same sat on his head like a crown. In his hand, Calan clutched a sprig of white and lavender flowers. There was nothing to read in his expression, closed-off as it was and solemn. Ian knew a moment of worry that perhaps now that the time was upon him, Calan was having second thoughts. His heart lightened in the next instant when Calan winked at him. The boldness of his wife-to-be delighted him. He wanted to break out in a broad grin, but the moment his lips twitched, Isabeau elbowed him in his side. Taking the hint, he set a serious expression on his face.

Celia led Calan in a slow circle around Ian and his family three times, showing him to everyone gathered, before stopping in front of him. With a look that could curdle milk, the councilwoman offered Calan’s right hand. Ian understood what to do. He clasped the boy with his left hand and gave it a brief squeeze of encouragement. Then he turned them both to face the officiant, the oldest person on the council. The woman had long, gray hair and a comforting smile. She clearly had no trouble with the marriage. The tension Ian felt in Calan eased as the woman tied a long white cord around their wrists to hold them together. Then it was all about the vows. Ian heard the woman’s words, spoke those required of him, but his concentration was focused fully on his bride—the bowing of his head, the movement of his soft, pink lips, the serious tone of his answers to the officiant’s questions. Each moment brought the boy closer to being his.

There was one awkward moment toward the end when each of their family representatives was asked if she accepted the vows of the couple as true and right. After a fraught hesitation, Celia bit out the proper response. Isabeau was far better at doing her duty as expected, but knowing her as he did, Ian heard the lack of sincerity in her tone. Calan showed his distress with a tightening of his fingers clenched around Ian’s. He squeezed back, rubbing his thumb along the boy’s finger to soothe him. It worked. Calan once more relaxed in his grip and smiled broadly when the officiant pronounced that they were married. Ian gave into his growing temptation to kiss the boy, lifting him in his free arm and melding their lips together. He wanted to take it longer and deeper, yet knew it wouldn’t be proper and with their wrists still bound, it was awkward. So, he contented himself with the brief contact and allowed the crowd to sweep them away.

The celebration meal was being held in the longhouse. Unlike for the other banquets, the tables were configured differently. One was stationed at the far end of the room horizontally, set with only five places. This was for the happy couple and their family. The others were formed in vertical rows across the room for the guests, of which there were many. Ian figured it was the entire village…or close to it. Everyone was in a jovial mood. Once Ian and Calan were stationed by their seats, Celia came up to hand Ian a short, plain dagger. Because she held it out hilt first, Ian was not alarmed, but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do other than accept it with a nod of thanks.

“It’s to cut the cord binding us,” Calan leaned in to whisper.

“Ah.” Ian obliged, careful not to nick his bride’s soft skin.

Calan caught the cord before it fell and deftly wound it around the flowers he still clutched. “It symbolizes how you are going to take my virginity, although I’m not sure if many brides are still virgins when they marry. I am, as you well know.”

Ian nearly choked on his spit. “I really should have paid more attention to Isabeau when she was schooling me about your marriage customs.” With a grin, he held out Calan’s seat for him.

The meal was sumptuous by Shadow Valley standards, with wine flowing freely and everyone chattering and laughing with obvious enjoyment. The unfortunate goat—which proved to be more tender and not as gamey as he’d expected—was reserved for the bridal party only. Isabeau was paying for it all, and she was nothing if not an excellent hostess when it came to parties. She even seemed to loosen up herself over the affair, and Amalie was beyond happy to be included in such adult activities. She wasn’t the only child, either. The ceremony had occurred in the late afternoon, so no one other than the very young were staying up past their bedtime. Ian thought it quite civilized to conduct marriages at the end of the day instead of the morning. Once the banquet was over, he would have Calan all to himself for the entire night and into the next day as much as he liked. That part he had been paying attention to.

As the meal was coming to an end, musicians arrived and started playing. Calan tapped Ian’s arm. “We are expected to dance.”

“We are?” More information he’d glossed over, yet except for delaying their leave-taking, he didn’t mind. Dancing was something he did enjoy.

Taking Calan’s hand, he led his bride to the floor in front of the musicians and gently tugged Calan into his arms. If there was some local dance he was supposed to follow, he had no knowledge of it, so he simply led the boy in a slow circle as he would have back home. He held their bodies flush against one another. This close, his arousal was obvious and more importantly, he could feel Calan’s in response.

He leaned in to whisper for Calan’s ears only. “What you do to me, wife.” The sound of himself saying that word sent a frisson of excitement down his spine. He liked how possessive it made him feel—and protective. Whatever Calan’s life had been up until now, Ian was going to make it his constant duty to give him the best of everything. And he would be safe with him. Celia’s disapproving face came into view. Ian stared back at her, trying to convey with his eyes alone that her reign over the boy was done. She couldn’t hurt him anymore, something he was certain she’d done many times in the past.

Calan ran his fingers along Ian’s shoulder, catching his attention once more. “Is it bad for me to want this all to be over quickly? I think you can tell I want you as urgently as you do me.”

Ian smiled. “It is very wicked, indeed, for you to wish to leave our guests so soon. And, as your husband…I approve. How much longer do we need to linger to observe the expected proprieties?”

Calan gnawed at his lower lip. “There will be more dancing, with the guests joining in. Then there’s cake…”

“Well, cake is always worth waiting for, just so long as you leave room for me to fill you up, too.”

Calan gasped and popped his eyes. “My lord, what kind of randy talk is that? Do it some more,” he added with a fluttering of his lashes.

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