unbalanced.
Once she regained her equilibrium, he kept her by his side, and then retrieved a dirk from his worn knee-high boot. She tensed, certain she had seen that same ornate design somewhere else, but it was impossible. Certain her memory played her false, she discounted the recollection.
Curious, she observed with interest as Aeden sliced a three-inch wide strip from the bottom of his plaid.
“Look at me, wife,” he commanded.
He called her wife.
It had really happened. He stood before a priest, recited vows and claimed her as his woman. Her heart swelled ready to burst with suppressed emotion. She straightened her spine and faced him.
A somber expression replaced his smile when he draped the plaid strip over her right shoulder covering her heart. From the inside of his white linen shirt, he unpinned a broach fashioned in silver that was inscribed in Latin.
“I flourish again?”
He secured the jewelry above her breast on the left. His fingers covered the words, and then he slowly dropped his hand back to his side.
“’Tis the Maxwell motto.”
Aeden held out his hand and she placed hers atop his. As one, they turned and he led her down the aisle.
From behind them, Father Pollock’s voice rose over the chatter of the men and the few villagers in attendance.
“In honor of his marriage, Chief Maxwell requests you make merry at his expense. Follow old Kirkwall there and he’ll show you the way.”
Once the revelers were on their way, Aeden guided her to the front of the cottage.
Nervous, she gazed at him with wide eyes. “Are we going in?”
“You are. Never fear, Mrs. Kirkwall will see to your comfort.”
When he started to leave, she placed a hand on his forearm and swallowed hard unable to believe what she was about to ask.
“You will stay somewhere else?”
Slowly he pivoted and stared at her. “I will sleep with the men.”
Confused, she tried to make sense of his actions.
“Will you not stay with me?”
She didn’t understand much, if anything, about the intimacies of the marriage bed, but she knew enough to comprehend he had to be in proximity of her to accomplish the consummation.
“We have a day’s ride on the morrow, and I do not wish to cause you any discomfort.”
She bit her lip, uncertain to what he referenced.
His gaze softened as he said, “Elisande, when we couple for the first time, your maiden’s veil will be torn. Although I’m told the pain is fleeting, the after effects will leave you too sore to ride the next day.”
Her face burned with each word he uttered. Still, he was her husband and she would rather start out their marriage in the traditional manner. Besides, the idea of anticipating pain made her more afraid than the actual deed. Determined to have her way, she looked him in the eye.
“I believe it is my body, therefore, should it not be my choice?”
His look of stunned surprise almost forced a laugh from her. “Elisande, you do no’ know what you say.”
“No.” She thrust her hand in the air to halt his speech.
“I would arrive at your home as man and wife in truth.”
The expression in his eyes was too obvious to mistake. He brought his hand up and traced a finger down her cheek. A brief shiver rippled through her, as an invisible web of desire wove around them. He lowered his head and took her lips in a tender kiss.
He pulled back to cup her cheek. “A local woman named Mrs. Kirkwall shall attend you. She was a great friend of my mother.”
She laid her hand over his. “Thank you. I … ” She cleared her throat. “I shall await your pleasure.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mrs. Kirkwall accomplished much in the short time she tidied the room. Her steady prattle helped to settle Elisande’s jittery stomach. She offered to help, but, instead was led to a snug chair near the snapping fire. She learned that the croft belonged to her widowed sister, who had given it up to the exalted chieftain of clan Maxwell. Uncomfortable with the idea that
Once she regained her equilibrium, he kept her by his side, and then retrieved a dirk from his worn knee-high boot. She tensed, certain she had seen that same ornate design somewhere else, but it was impossible. Certain her memory played her false, she discounted the recollection.
Curious, she observed with interest as Aeden sliced a three-inch wide strip from the bottom of his plaid.
“Look at me, wife,” he commanded.
He called her wife.
It had really happened. He stood before a priest, recited vows and claimed her as his woman. Her heart swelled ready to burst with suppressed emotion. She straightened her spine and faced him.
A somber expression replaced his smile when he draped the plaid strip over her right shoulder covering her heart. From the inside of his white linen shirt, he unpinned a broach fashioned in silver that was inscribed in Latin.
“I flourish again?”
He secured the jewelry above her breast on the left. His fingers covered the words, and then he slowly dropped his hand back to his side.
“’Tis the Maxwell motto.”
Aeden held out his hand and she placed hers atop his. As one, they turned and he led her down the aisle.
From behind them, Father Pollock’s voice rose over the chatter of the men and the few villagers in attendance.
“In honor of his marriage, Chief Maxwell requests you make merry at his expense. Follow old Kirkwall there and he’ll show you the way.”
Once the revelers were on their way, Aeden guided her to the front of the cottage.
Nervous, she gazed at him with wide eyes. “Are we going in?”
“You are. Never fear, Mrs. Kirkwall will see to your comfort.”
When he started to leave, she placed a hand on his forearm and swallowed hard unable to believe what she was about to ask.
“You will stay somewhere else?”
Slowly he pivoted and stared at her. “I will sleep with the men.”
Confused, she tried to make sense of his actions.
“Will you not stay with me?”
She didn’t understand much, if anything, about the intimacies of the marriage bed, but she knew enough to comprehend he had to be in proximity of her to accomplish the consummation.
“We have a day’s ride on the morrow, and I do not wish to cause you any discomfort.”
She bit her lip, uncertain to what he referenced.
His gaze softened as he said, “Elisande, when we couple for the first time, your maiden’s veil will be torn. Although I’m told the pain is fleeting, the after effects will leave you too sore to ride the next day.”
Her face burned with each word he uttered. Still, he was her husband and she would rather start out their marriage in the traditional manner. Besides, the idea of anticipating pain made her more afraid than the actual deed. Determined to have her way, she looked him in the eye.
“I believe it is my body, therefore, should it not be my choice?”
His look of stunned surprise almost forced a laugh from her. “Elisande, you do no’ know what you say.”
“No.” She thrust her hand in the air to halt his speech.
“I would arrive at your home as man and wife in truth.”
The expression in his eyes was too obvious to mistake. He brought his hand up and traced a finger down her cheek. A brief shiver rippled through her, as an invisible web of desire wove around them. He lowered his head and took her lips in a tender kiss.
He pulled back to cup her cheek. “A local woman named Mrs. Kirkwall shall attend you. She was a great friend of my mother.”
She laid her hand over his. “Thank you. I … ” She cleared her throat. “I shall await your pleasure.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mrs. Kirkwall accomplished much in the short time she tidied the room. Her steady prattle helped to settle Elisande’s jittery stomach. She offered to help, but, instead was led to a snug chair near the snapping fire. She learned that the croft belonged to her widowed sister, who had given it up to the exalted chieftain of clan Maxwell. Uncomfortable with the idea that
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