Page 21 of Wed to the Highlander
But she couldn’t shake the chill that curled beneath her ribs. Something seemed off. And it wasn’t just a spiteful woman in green plaid or a bitter old matriarch clinging to power—it was something deeper.
Chapter 6
The hour was growing late. Mostly stragglers filled the dining hall now. Dozens of conversations at once were replaced by the soft clink of silver being cleared.
Duncan stood and offered Maggie his hand. “Come,mo chridhe. It’s been a long day.”
She slid her fingers into his, warm and sure. As they climbed the stairs, silence stretched between them—not strained but heavy with anticipation, and for her, uncertainty.
He paused outside their chamber door. “You’re quiet again.”
“I’m nervous,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “And a little overwhelmed.”
“Understandable,” he said gently, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “But there’s no cause for fear.”
She hesitated. “You’re done waiting.”
His gaze darkened, though his voice remained soft. “Aye, Maggie. We’ve delayed long enough.”
A breath caught in her chest—not from alarm but from the shiver of awareness that followed. There was no menace in his words. Only longing.
“We’ll move at your pace,” he added, voice low. “This will be the cherishing part of my vow to you—the first of many.”
He opened the door and motioned for her to enter first. The fire crackled bright, warming the chamber, and the bed had already been turned down. Noticing something on one of thepillows, she crossed to it. It was a pouch filled with crushed herbs.
“Another charm?” she asked.
Duncan locked the door and crossed the room. He took the small bag from her, sniffed, then poured a bit out in his palm.
“What is it?”
“I’m not an expert on herbs or charms, you’d have to ask one of the women, but I believe it’s a mix of raspberry leaf and nettle rose.”
“For luck, too?”
“Not quite. It’s believed that raspberry leaf can strengthen…appetites and can help speed conception.” He angled her an amused glance as he tucked the herbs away.
Understanding struck at what kind of appetite he meant, and she huffed a dry laugh. “It’s a little unsettling that so many have a vested interest in the success of our marriage bed.”
“The last year has been hard,” he admitted as he set the bag aside, more serious. “Don’t hold it against them. They mean well.”
“Including Isla and Agnes?”
He didn’t answer for a beat then slid an arm around her and pulled her close. “I refuse to speak of anything negative on our wedding night.”
It was unofficial. They’d been wed for two days, but this would be their real wedding night.
“I always imagined I’d be wittier and more worldly once I was a wife. But I’m at a loss at what to say.”
“Maybe we say nothing at all.” His green eyes held hers—lit with desire and something quieter… devotion, perhaps.
“You want to consummate and make it official,” she said, more statement than question.
His mouth lifted faintly. “I want to be close to you. That takes many forms. One of them happens to be exquisite.”
Heat rose in her cheeks, but she didn’t flinch, holding his gaze. “My mother isn’t a shy, retiring flower. She told me what to expect,” she whispered. “I just need to know you want to be here for me. Not because the clock is ticking toward your birthday.”
“Maggie…” he breathed as his big hands cradled her face gently. “Even without my grandfather’s diabolical demand from the grave, I would have married you. Because I want you and no other. To hold you, to kiss you, aye, to make bairns with you, and to wake up beside you for the rest of my days. I want your snark and your wit, to be soothed by your laughter, and undone by your fire. It’s been over a year since I spoke to your brother about my intentions—tragedies and delays made acting on them impossible—”
