Married to the Icy Highlander (Unwanted Highland Wives #3)

Chapter 6

6

I t never failed to impress Ceana how the power of a laird could move things so quickly. Her first wedding had not been half as fancy as this one, but it had been difficult enough to plan. Granted, she ended up at the altar alone, but that was not going to happen to her for a second time.

How silly that it was even a fear.

Nerves coiled in her gut. She couldn’t stop worrying about the day and the ceremony itself. She wanted to get it over with, to know that it was handled and that she had done her duty. But her mother’s fussing wasn’t helping either.

Ida had moved the pins in Ceana’s hair over a dozen times now, and she pinched her cheeks to make them more pink.

It was more than what was necessary, but her mother would hear none of it. The dress that the Laird had chosen for her was stunning—a pretty emerald-green piece with silver embroidery on the bottom of the skirt and all over the bodice. The cream-colored sleeves and inserts matched the stockings that had been gifted to her as well.

It was the finest dress she had ever worn. She supposed that if their arrangement didn’t work out in the way she wished it to, she would have gained a wonderful dress out of it.

Peter had left his cat, Myrtle, at home for the occasion, but Ceana had a sneaking suspicion that the creature would show up sooner or later at the least opportune moment. Her mother had insisted on accompanying her—not that Ceana would have fought her on it—and Peter was nearly beside himself with excitement. He wouldn’t stop bouncing up and down on his feet for anything. Ceana knew that it was the wedding feast that he was actually looking forward to.

“It’s almost time,” her mother said, tugging at the waist of her dress one last time to make sure that everything was exactly where it needed to be.

“Aye,” Ceana answered absently.

“The Laird seems like a good man.”

They already had this conversation over a dozen times. Ida was pushing and pushing to know what Ceana truly thought of her soon-to-be husband or her plans for the future, even though Ceana was not answering any of her questions or comments.

“I think ye are doin’ a brave thing, Ceana,” Ida continued. “I dinnae ken how this arrangement came about, or how yer strong personalities will work together, but I think it could be a very good match. And if it’s nae, ye come right back home. Ye hear me?”

Ceana smiled softly, pushing her nerves aside as best as she could. This was the only option she had left. With the Laird’s help, she would have protection, power, and sufficient income to keep on the whole staff at the distillery and then some.

“I hear ye, Maither. Ye dinnae need to worry about me. I promise.”

“I’ll worry anyway,” Ida insisted, squeezing her shoulders softly before turning to walk her down the aisle.

The Great Hall of the castle had been transformed for the occasion. The long dining tables had been pushed to the sides, but they were covered with flower displays. Clansmen and women stood on either side in their best clothes, their attention fixed on Ceana. But hers was fixed on the large Scotsman waiting for her at the end of the aisle.

The knot of uncertainty in her gut started to unfurl when she saw him standing there. She could hardly believe how worked up she had gotten over such a silly thing as him not being at the other end of the aisle in his very own castle.

The intensity in his eyes was hard to look away from, even when his daughter tugged at the hem of his kilt and then whispered something to him that Ceana couldn’t hear. The Laird nodded to his daughter, who then scurried off to her waiting nurse.

When Ceana stopped before him, she could hardly breathe. Her mother pulled her in for a kiss on the cheek and then moved to stand beside Peter to watch the ceremony.

“I chose a good dress,” the Laird commented.

“Are ye unable to pay women proper compliments?” Ceana returned without the usual bite in her voice.

She simply couldn’t get the poison to come out. She was spending all of her energy on not shaking. It was not marriage that she was nervous about… it was this strange tension that filled her every time the Laird stood this close to her. She couldn’t predict his actions.

Growing up in the village, encountering Ferguson as often as she had, Ceana liked to think that she had a fairly good understanding of men and how they acted. But the Laird? He was like no one she had met before.

Sparks traveled up her arm as he took her hand in his. The handfasting, the wedding ceremony itself—even the vows she repeated—seemed to pass in a blur, and she couldn’t get her heart to settle for anything. The words blended together as time seemed to both speed up and slow down, all coming to a head only when she heard the priest declare that the Laird could now kiss his bride.

She was a wife now.

She lifted her chin, her heart hammering in her chest as she watched him intently. It was almost a shame to have her first kiss in front of all these people. She had truly thought he would kiss her when he had come to visit a week ago. Not that she was disappointed that he didn’t, of course. She just kept thinking of how close they had been up until now. Nothing more.

The Laird’s long dark hair fell around both of their faces like a curtain as he hooked his fingers beneath her chin and tilted it up slightly, pulling her out of her thoughts.

The desire to feel his lips on hers was so strong that it surprised her.

Ceana’s eyes closed in anticipation, her lips parted and waiting for him to close the distance between them. She could feel his breath on her skin and then… nothing. At the last moment, he kissed her cheek. His lips barely grazed the corner of her mouth and the side of her face before he pulled away.

This time, the disappointment hit her hard , right in the gut.

There was no reason for her to expect anything else. There was certainly no reason for her to care if he did or didn’t kiss her. It wasn’t as if he was a particularly pleasant person. She was just going to be another member of his household, and this was just a stark reminder of the place he intended to keep her in.

The guests erupted into cheers and a flurry of movement. In what felt like a blink of an eye, she was being congratulated as the tables in the hall were moved once more and the servants started to bring in the food. The tables were soon covered in various dishes, while two pipers played music just off the wide square dance floor.

Cèilidhs had always been her favorite part of weddings. Ceana loved nothing more than dancing until her feet fell like they were going to fall off, drinking until her face became numb, and then dancing even more. It was such a rare thing that she was allowed to let her hair down in that way.

Yet, now that it was her own wedding, she didn’t know if she could let loose like that. She was now Lady MacTristan, wife of the Laird of Clan MacTristan. Was she supposed to hold herself apart? Were there other rules that she didn’t know about? It seemed like she ought to have been told.

Well, if there were such rules, she was going to remain ignorant of them and choose to enjoy herself.

Pulling away from Neil, Ceana went in search of her brother, who was stuffing his face with bannocks and everything that he could get his hands on. She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the dance floor, much to his chagrin.

Peter was a clumsy dancer, but it didn’t matter when he was so excited about partaking. One dance bled into the next, and one dance partner bled into another. The guests eventually joined in, forming couples on the dance floor. Her feet were sore, and her hair started falling loose from her updo before her husband decided to join her.

It was perfectly natural for his bride to spend the night dancing until her feet fell off. It certainly was natural for her to enjoy the festivities after her wedding. Something that he ought to be doing himself, and he knew it. But he couldn’t seem to make himself do it. It was impossible to tear his eyes away from his bride.

Neil had never been very good at sharing.

Try as he might—which wasn’t that hard at all—he couldn’t stop cataloging the hands of every clansman who dared to touch her. Every palm and finger that brushed against her as she moved and the face of every man she smiled so prettily at.

And yet he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Every twist and turn, every dip as her skirts flared out. She looked almost soft, which he couldn’t help but find funny because she liked to aim her temper right at him more often than not. He wondered what it would be like to experience that soft side of her. If he would glimpse the same fluidity in other areas of her life.

“She’s a fine dancer, is she nae?” Arthur remarked, bumping Neil’s shoulder with his own. “I dinnae think there’s a pair of eyes in the room that arenae glued to yer wife.”

“Ye sure do ken what to say to make me want to punch ye,” Neil sighed, accepting another glass of whiskey.

“Well, what do ye expect when ye’re too proud to go and dance with yer own wife, at yer own wedding?” Arthur pointed out, before taking another swig from the goblet in his hand. “Perhaps I’ll?—”

“I caution ye to remember who it is that ye’re speakin’ to,” Neil grunted, his hand curling into a fist by his side.

He knew that his friend was only trying to get a rise out of him, but it was working a little bit too well.

“I ken very well to whom I’m speakin’,” Arthur drawled. “Just as I ken that ye werenae half as upset when yer first wife danced like this at yer first wedding. If I recall properly, ye got piss-faced drunk and had to be carried up to yer bedchambers.”

Neil sighed, not wanting to remember his first marriage at a time like this. “I’d rather nae speak about her right now.”

“Right, ye dinnae want to mix yer first marriage with yer second one. But since they are both just contracts to ye, are they nae the same? Nay reason to look like ye want to tear apart yer clansmen with yer bare hands,” Arthur concluded with a smirk.

He was getting a little too comfortable with his version of the truth, in Neil’s opinion.

“Life with Ceana willnae be like life with Jessica—I’ve taken measures to ensure that,” Neil stated firmly, hoping to end the conversation.

He could hardly think about his first wife without getting irritated. He wasn’t a man who could easily get over things. He was quick and strategic, and perhaps if he had been facing Jessica on a battlefield as a tactician, he would have been able to commend her prowess and deception. But as his first wife? As the mother of his child? No, thinking about her only enraged him further.

She was brilliant in her last moments. The things that she had whispered to him on her deathbed were… life-altering. Everything that he had thought he had known about his marriage was wiped away in an instant.

The lump in his throat felt like it was thickening all over again, and he swallowed past it to steady himself and push all of those emotions back down where they belonged.

Ceana’s giggles drifted to his ears, and his eyes darted back to where she was dancing as if she was never going to run out of energy. He had made mistakes in his first marriage, and whether his second marriage was a contract or not, he wasn’t about to make the same mistakes again.

“Aye? And what sort of ‘measures’ might those be?” Arthur asked with a wet laugh, finishing off the contents of his glass.

“They are none of yer business,” Neil retorted. “Unless ye want to see what happens inside me bedchambers—in which case we’d need to have another conversation.”

Arthur scrunched up his face as if he had sucked on a lemon and shook his head. “Absolutely nae.”

“I’m nae sure about that.” Neil grinned into his cup.

He never did fancy himself much of a dancer, nor did he particularly enjoy it, but he wasn’t going to be the only man in the room not dancing with his wife. He downed his drink in one large gulp and then thrust the empty glass into Arthur’s chest.

“Careful. If ye step on her feet, ye might break her,” Arthur teased.

Neil was certain that if he did somehow step on Ceana’s feet, she would give back as much as she had gotten. He didn’t have to know her well to know that she wasn’t a woman who tolerated nonsense from anyone.

“Ye’re mistakin’ me dancin’ for yer own,” he said with an eye roll. It was better to do this now before he talked himself out of it. “Ye’re the one with the two left feet, nae me.”

With that, he moved toward the dance floor.

When the Laird moved, the guests parted for him like the Red Sea. Ceana had a strong feeling that it was not just his clansmen who moved out of the way when they saw him coming. When he stopped a foot away from her, she stopped too.

The dancers moved around them to the upbeat music, swirling in and out like the blooming petals of a flower. Ceana itched to resume dancing, but perhaps he had come to tell her that it was time to retire for the night.

Shockingly, he reached for her hand.

For a warrior, the Laird was surprisingly light on his feet. A man as large as him should not have been an accomplished dancer, but he was.

“Thank ye again, for the dress,” she said over the loud music as he moved closer to her.

The Laird’s eyes roamed hungrily over her dress, and then lower. When he was close enough, he wrapped his hand around her waist and whispered in her ear, “Do ye remember the rules, wife?”

Her whole body seemed to flush as his words washed over her. She did not doubt that her face was red, yet again.

Honestly, what was it about the way he looked at her that made her feel so… whatever this was? She knew that she was beautiful, and plenty of men had looked at her as if she were more appealing than their next meal, but this was something… more.

“Do ye remember me rules, M’Laird?”

Neil smirked.

Eventually, the song drew to a close, and he stepped back and disappeared into the crowd. Ceana stepped off the dance floor to find herself a drink. Wine called her name, begging for indulgence that she was only too happy to provide.

Once she was at the refreshments table, she poured herself a glass and quickly lifted it to her lips. However, her hand paused midair when she felt something tugging at the skirt of her gown. She spun back to find Jeanie standing before her, looking up at her happily.

“Ye dance so prettily!” Jeanie gushed. “Will I dance as prettily as ye when I’m older?”

“Och, I think ye’ll dance far better than I when ye’re grown.” Ceana laughed as she hiked up her skirts and knelt down in front of her. “Me maither taught me how to dance when I was but a wee lass of five years.”

Jeanie’s eyes widened in shock. “But I’m seven! I havenae learned to dance at all!”

“Well, I can help ye with that while I’m here,” Ceana offered. Perhaps they could bond during the dancing lessons. After all, raising the little girl was her husband’s first rule. “Would ye like to learn to dance with me?”

“Aye!” Jeanie nodded enthusiastically. “Me faither is always so… man. He never pays attention to the things a lass might like.”

Man? Ceana had no idea what to say to that.

Mercifully, a maid came to take Jeanie to bed. No doubt the little girl had been avoiding her bedtime to spy on the festivities as best as she could.

“Five more minutes!” Jeanie pleaded, even as she was dragged away by the maid.

Alone again with her wine, Ceana took a sip from her glass as she swept her eyes over the dance floor. She spotted her husband leaning against the doorframe, speaking with another laird she didn’t recognize. He held a glass of her whiskey in his hand, and the muscles in his arm flexed even with the slight movement.

A shudder rippled down her spine as her face flushed. As if sensing her gaze, Neil glanced up, catching her eye for only a moment before she turned her head away so quickly that she was sure she looked like a fool. If she had not been blushing before, she certainly was now.

Maybe his daughter was right.

“Aye, he is very man ,” Ceana muttered under her breath.