The Wrong Bride by Gayle Callen

skill for a while.”
    They spent some time choosing an outfit for Riona to wear to her first dinner with the clan. It was a deep maroon that Mrs. Wallace thought highlighted her green eyes. The stomacher revealed by the lacing was cream with lovely flowered embroidery, which was echoed in the fancy petticoat on display beneath the open skirt. After two weeks without wearing stays, it was rather jarring for her rib cage to be laced so tightly. Jarring, yet also familiar, as if she was almost back to herself, instead of a prisoner.
    Making “ooh” noises of appreciation at the sight of the McCallum necklace, Mrs. Wallace proudly put it around Riona’s neck, where it sat like a weight of expectations Riona would never meet.
    She sat at the dressing table looking into the mirror as Mrs. Wallace worked on arranging her hair into a chignon, leaving random curls to drape against her neck. She knew her old life was gone. Whether she married or not, she could never again be considered an innocent, virginal potential bride. No man would want her now, she thought, swallowing hard.
    â€œAre you and Himself harkenin’ back to the old ways for the start of yer marriage?” Mrs. Wallace asked as she worked.
    Riona frowned. “Pardon me?”
    â€œYe’re here, livin’ in the chief’s rooms. Will ye be handfastin’ then?”
    â€œHandfasting?” Riona echoed uncertainly.
    â€œI ken there’s a contract, o’ course, but neither of ye knows the other. Perhaps ye’ll handfast—live together—for a year, then make a decision. Make sure ye can have children together. All would understand.”
    Riona had to work hard to keep her mouth from sagging open. She could not reveal her feelings to Mrs. Wallace, regardless of how friendly she seemed. No one at Larig Castle would ever be Riona’s true friend.
    McCallum had installed her in his rooms, as if she was his wife. Had he planned this handfasting all along? Did he intend to come to her rooms this night to make her his, and the kiss had been a prelude of what was to come?

C HAPTER 7
    A s he bathed and dressed in his plaid, Hugh knew he was doing the right thing—Riona had to leave her childish ways behind and accept the duties of a woman. She couldn’t change the agreement between their families, just as he hadn’t been able to change things when he was nineteen and desperately wanted a different bride.
    He would treat her well and make her see that they could have a good marriage. Love was not something to be expected in an arranged marriage, but they could find respect and understanding with each other.
    He would make that happen.
    Was kissing her against her will the best way to do that? He didn’t know, but it had tested the limits of his control to be there when she was bathing—again. He should have realized what he’d be walking into as she prepared for the evening meal aftera long journey. But he’d been so focused on anticipating his clan’s questions that he hadn’t thought of anything else. He’d burst in and found her once again naked, wet, and alluring. She’d been full of fire and insult, and he’d admired every bit of it, especially since she was all alone at Larig Castle, with no one she knew to look out for her.
    But that kiss . . .
    She was obviously an innocent, but she’d caught on quickly. Her lips had been so soft and moist, her taste exotic to him. He’d almost shaken with restraint when he’d desperately wanted to deepen the kiss, to explore her mouth, to discover and inflame her passion.
    Maybe he needed to douse himself in the tub again, now that the water had turned cold.
    Instead he fastened the brooch that held his plaid over his shoulder and headed toward the dressing room, to escort Riona and face the people he’d barely seen in ten years.
    R IONA paced her bedroom, waiting for McCallum. She wasn’t about to come to