Page 60 of Highlander of Steel
Ailis fidgeted with the embroidered hem of her sleeve. “This and that.”
“Did he…?” Paisley wiggled her eyebrows, a grin on her lips.
Believing she understood the meaning, Ailis spluttered, “Nay! We… werenae married then. I wouldnae have—hewouldnae have… It was just… We just fell asleep; that’s all!”
“Ye ken there’s more to bein’ ‘taken to bed’ than fallin’ asleep though, aye?” Paisley teased, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I just want to be sure. Ye’d been trapped in yer faither’s castle for so long, and I wouldnae want ye to be oblivious when the feast is over and yer weddin’ night arrives.”
So flushed with heat she feared she might ignite, Ailis gulped down a mouthful of her wine. “Me sister… enlightened me some.”
And last night enlightened me some more.
“Anyway, ours isnae that sort of marriage,” she hastened to add. “Our duty to one another was done the moment we left the chapel.”
Paisley sat back in the chair, a sly smile quirking her mouth as she brought her own cup to her lips. “If ye say so.”
“I do, actually,” Ailis insisted, and might’ve gotten away with it if Killian had not stepped back into the Great Hall at that moment.
Her gaze drifted toward him, drawn to him despite everything. He stood windswept just inside the towering double doors, as if he had been riding. Even now, she had never seen a finer man in all her life, and it beggared belief that he was hers.
“If ye say so,” Paisley repeated with a wink, darting away from the table before Ailis could protest again.
At that moment, Killian’s sharp blue eyes found her. She stared right back, taking in the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest and the open collar of his shirt, revealing a slick triangle of skin. Her memory spouted forth a torrent of images of him entirely naked, running across the sand and up the cliff to fetch her something warm. Perfection in male form.
But remember, that was his sole concern—keepin’ warm. It wasnae more than that, and he willnae come to ye tonight.
Her throat constricted at the very thought of him knocking on her chamber door with that hungry look in his eyes, coming to confuse her some more.
Indeed, she had been so overwhelmed by the wedding and all the moving parts around it that she hadn’t stopped to think about her wedding night at all.
It might have been the first wedding Killian had ever attended where the bride and groom did not say more than a handful of words to each other throughout the entire feast.
Fraser would have laughed and remarked that it was exactlywhat he had envisioned his brother’s wedding being like, but he wasn’t there to make his quips and jests; he was rotting away in a dungeon.
Fortunately, as no one seemed to be in a festive mood, the feast didn’t last long. By nightfall, it was over, everyone retiring… the bride included.
“Is this yer plan for yer weddin’ night then?” Paisley asked, lowering herself into the chair opposite, the only guests at an empty feasting table in an empty hall.
Killian looked up from the whiskey he had been nursing. “If distance is what me bride wants, then distance is what me bride shall get.”
“With nay respect whatsoever, Killian, the two of ye are idiots,” Paisley scoffed with a shake of her head.
Irritation flared in Killian’s chest, right below the dull thud of a heart that longed to race to the moans and sighs of his wife.
Until he became the Laird, Paisley had always called him by his name. The informality jarred him now, after just about getting used to being referred to as ‘me Laird.’
“Watch yer tongue, Paisley,” he warned.
“I willnae, when the two of ye are wastin’ precious time,” she retorted, with a pointed sip from her wine goblet.
Judging by the sheen in her eyes, she had already had too much, but he figured he shouldn’t judge. She was missing Fraser asmuch as he was, probably more. Whatever helped her survive his absence wasn’t to be commented upon.
“If Fraser were here right now, and this was ourweddin’, do ye think he or I would be sittin’ here alone, mopin’? Even if we’d argued, do ye think anythin’ would keep him from me door?” Paisley mumbled, her voice thick with sadness.
Killian sighed. “That’s a different situation, Paisley. Ye’ve been betrothed for a while. Ye love each other.”
“See, I daenae think it’s that different.” Paisley waved her hand wildly. “I think ye like her and she likes ye, and somethin’ happened last night that has ye avoidin’ each other like bairns who’ve had a fallin’ out. And all I’m sayin’ is, she’s yer wife now, and her faither could march on us tomorrow and kill us all. Do ye want to spend this one good night alone in this room, or up there with her?”
Up there with her.
