Victoria Roberts - [Bad Boys of the Highlands 03] (5 page)

He held up his hands. “Aye, ye found me out. Can we please take our leave now before we are discovered?”

She gave a brief nod. “That would probably be best. If we were to be discovered and Father found out ye—”

“Exactly. Let us seek your chamber. I would like to know what kind of poverty my sister is living in,” he said in a jesting tone. He opened the door and gestured her through as he blew out the candle.

They walked down the hall and entered Sybella’s bedchamber. She had just closed the door when Colin smirked. “There is nay way this is your chamber, Sister.”

“What do ye mean? Of course this is my chamber.”

He spoke in his casual, jesting way. “
’
Tis far too clean to be your room, Ella.”

She tossed a pillow at him and he caught it with one hand. He placed the pillow back on the bed and sat down beside her. His eyes had a burning, faraway look in them.

“What is it, Colin?”

“Are ye going to be all right here with the MacDonell? I would expect the truth.”

His smile was almost apologetic, and she punched him playfully in the arm. “Is that what is troubling ye? In truth, I am nae thrilled to be the MacDonell’s wife, but as I told ye before, I will do what is expected of me. Like all things in life, I am sure I will grow accustomed.”

“Do ye mean that?”

“I wouldnae speak the words if they werenae the truth.” She couldn’t figure out if Colin’s concern was that of an older brother or if there was some other meaning to his words or lack thereof. He was always direct with her and never made a play upon his words—yet, she had an underlying feeling something was off. “Are ye certain that is all that troubles ye?”

He hesitated, studying her for a moment. “I am only concerned for your welfare. Father made this alliance for the sole purpose of finding the stone.
’
Tis dangerous, Ella. I want ye to be careful and donna be so quick to search for the stone. It will probably take the MacDonell a little while to lower his guard around ye. Give him time to know ye, and I am sure he will be besotted.” He smiled warmly. “Most importantly, earn his trust. Make him realize that his wife stands by his side. I know it may be difficult for ye, but be a dutiful wife and please try to hold your tongue.”

“This is the second time ye and Father have made such a reminder. Why do I get the feeling ye donna trust me to take this responsibility seriously? I am a MacKenzie. I know what is to be gained from recovering the stone.” When his eyes flashed with the same familiar display of impatience, she added, “But I understand what ye mean. I will make certain I have the MacDonell’s trust before I start to search for the stone so he isnae suspicious of me.”

Colin kissed her on the cheek and then rose. “I will see ye in a few hours for your wedding, Sister. Try to get some rest.” He was about to open the door when she spoke.

“And Colin?”

He turned around and raised his brow. “Aye?”

“Seek your own chamber and stop your wanderings lest we both find ourselves upon the gallows.”

He rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him.

***

“Where the hell is he?” asked Alex for the hundredth time.

“Donna worry. We will find him,” said John reassuringly.

“And ye searched the chambers?”

“Aye.”

“The bailey, stables, parapet.
”
Alex knew there was no need to continue because Colin MacKenzie had simply walked into the great hall. Turning to John, Alex snarled, “Make sure Ian keeps a firm watch on the MacKenzie’s son now. I will see ye on the morrow or in a few short hours.”

Alex reached the hall to his chamber. When he heard laughter, he glanced up as Aunt Iseabail and William walked from the other end of the hall, arm in arm. Alex made a mad dash inside his bedchamber and closed the door. When William’s voice carried through the hall, Alex couldn’t help himself and he paused inside the door.

“Lady Iseabail, I must thank ye for a most enjoyable evening. I havenae had the pleasure of such delightful company for quite some time.”

“I thoroughly enjoyed your company as well, William. Ye have many entertaining stories. I am especially fond of your tales as a young lad. They were verra charming.”

“’Tis been my pleasure. I shall see ye on the morrow for the wedding.”

“Aye, the wedding. We have waited so long for Dòmhnall to wed, and frankly, I ne’er thought it would happen. My husband and I are verra proud of him.”

William paused and Alex cringed. But he had to give William credit when the MacKenzie man simply made a polite farewell and left his aunt to her own devices. Poor Aunt Iseabail. Alex wished he could cease his aunt’s memory lapses, but at least she was otherwise healthy and happy.

He finally crawled into bed only to find himself staring at the ceiling. When he grew tired of that, he gazed at the wall. He lay in the drowsy warmth of his bed, thinking. He wasn’t sure how long he had remained in the same position when an image popped into his mind.

Five years ago, Alexander first laid eyes on the fair-colored lass with her golden tresses and dusty rose cheeks. She was going to jump from the top of the waterfall. Alex admired a lass who showed some bollocks. Of course, that was before he realized the wily female was a dreaded MacKenzie. At the time, he could not say what had surprised him more. The fact that the damn MacKenzies stepped foot on his father’s land or his own brazen mockery of kissing his enemy’s daughter.

The lass had barely spoken with him this eve, but he knew he hadn’t really gone out of his way to initiate conversation with her, either. He probably should have made more of an effort, been more attentive. Sybella said she had a headache. Perhaps he should show her some kindness and ask if she needed anything—well, if she was still awake.

Alex threw the covers from the bed and stood. Hastily, he donned his kilt. He walked toward the adjoining door, completely aware that the headstrong MacKenzie lass probably had it barred. He was momentarily taken aback when he tried the latch and found it unlocked. He knocked softly and then slowly pushed open the door.

One bedside candle remained lit, illuminating Sybella’s long golden tresses. He stood close to the edge of the bed and simply watched her. Her nightrail had slipped down over her shoulder and displayed the milky color of her skin. Her hair tumbled carelessly down her back, and her seductive young body and wholesome good looks tightened his groin.

Her smooth skin glowed with pale undertones, and her cheeks were of rose and pearl. She looked more delicate and ethereal than ever. The prolonged anticipation of touching her was almost unbearable.

He stepped forward and extended his fingers over the contours of her shapely figure. He was close enough that he could almost caress her. When reality sunk in, Alex hastily pulled back his hand, knowing the mere touch of her body would be his undoing. With one last look, he lazily appraised her.

She was beautiful. And in a few hours she would be his.

He walked back through the adjoining door and gently closed it behind him—completely unaware that Sybella’s eyes were open.

Sybella’s eyes burned from sleeplessness. Her mind kept turning to last eve—or should she say a few short hours ago—when her betrothed had snuck into her chamber through the adjoining door. Alexander had some bollocks; she would give him that. Did he presume their wedding night would start earlier than expected? She had feigned sleep to deter any advances and had breathed a sigh of relief when he eventually left. Only the gods knew what went on in that man’s head.

She pulled out her wedding dress and tossed it on the bed. At least her tiredness would keep her sanity at bay. She splashed some water from the bowl onto her face, but it was not as cold and bracing as she’d hoped it would be. She needed something to snap out of this tired stupor. When there was a knock at her door, she picked up a cloth and dried her eyes.

“Sybella,
’
tis Mary.”

Praise
the
saints.

Mary swung open the door, and Sybella didn’t think fast enough to close it again. Mary stood with her hands on her hips, assessing Sybella from head to toe. “Look at ye. Ye arenae even dressed. Your hair is a mess, and your eyes look as though ye were in a brawl.”

“And good morn to ye as well, Mary,” said Sybella with a bright smile.

Mary closed the door and spoke in a rush of words. “Come now. Ye must make haste.” She approached the bed and then brushed the top of the feather mattress with her hand as if she were wiping crumbs from the table. “I am nae saying anything about last eve because I know ye were distraught, but there is something we need to discuss before ye speak your vows.”

Sybella cringed. “And what might that be?”

“There is nay delicate way to speak upon such matters so I will be blunt.”

“I would expect naught less,” Sybella said dryly.

“There are certain duties a man expects from his bride on the eve of his wedding.”

When stains of scarlet appeared on Mary’s cheeks, Sybella gave her a polite smile. “Please spare us both. Ye donna need to discuss such subjects with me.”

“Since your dear mother is nay longer with us and I am the only woman of close relation,
’
tis my duty, Sybella. How will ye know what to expect if nay one tells ye?”

A suffocating sensation tightened Sybella’s throat. From the look upon Mary’s face, she was not going to give up on her commentary any time soon. With a sense of dread, Sybella knew the battle of wills was lost before it had even begun. It didn’t help that Mary was right. Sybella didn’t know what to expect on the eve of her wedding, and frankly, she was more than a little curious and nervous.

While Mary talked in very specific terms, Sybella studied the furnishings. She gazed at her gown. She stretched her neck and almost forgot to give the occasional nod. With that, the detailed instruction on coupling was finished, and they got back to the task at hand.

Sybella was lifting the gown over her head when Mary asked, “Are ye all right?”

After pulling down the dress, Sybella straightened her bodice. “Of course.”

“Ye can talk to me. I know this must nae be easy for ye.” When Sybella gave her a wry smile, Mary studied her intently. “Come sit down and let me fix your hair.”

Sybella sat on the bed while Mary brushed her hair. For some reason, Sybella’s palms had started to sweat. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “I donna know what is the matter with me, but my stomach is verra unsettled. I think I feel ill.”

“’Tis perfectly normal for all new brides. Once ye see your betrothed at the altar, ye will find your nervousness disappears. Trust me. The man will only have eyes for ye. There. Ye are all done. Ye look beautiful, Sybella, and I’m sure your mother would be verra proud.”

For the first time since she could remember, Sybella hoped that was true.

***

Alex stood in front of the altar in the stone chapel, waiting patiently for his betrothed. Bloodshot eyes stared back at him, and some of the men leaned up against the wall. Everyone was indeed a sorry sight. His clan sat to the right and Sybella’s kin to the left. Aunt Iseabail was the only MacDonell who sat next to a MacKenzie. She sat in the pew next to William, beaming approval. Alex hadn’t seen that spark in her eyes since last eve, when she was in her cups and doting on the MacKenzie man. Alex briefly contemplated whether or not his betrothed had fled when a vision of beauty stepped foot through the entrance.

The MacKenzie plaid was proudly draped over Sybella’s shoulder, and her sky-colored gown displayed a slim waist that flared into rounded hips. The sun illuminated her long golden tresses, making them look like strands of lustrous silk. She was simply…enchanting.

Escorted by her father, she walked slowly and moved with an easy grace. She nodded at a few people along the way and approached Alex at the altar.

He couldn’t help but smile. “My lady.” His voice was shakier than he would have liked.

She curtseyed in response. “My laird.”

The priest asked something of Sybella’s father and the MacKenzie may have answered, but to be truthful, Alex only half listened. Sybella was simply beautiful, and he could barely take his eyes from her. Everything that happened next would remain a haze around the edge of his mind.

He believed he had spoken his vows when he heard his stammering voice, which was nothing but a buzz in his ear. But when Sybella spoke, there was a gentle softness to her words. Her tone was comforting, calming. Or maybe it only sounded that way because he’d barely slept.

“Ye are now man and wife,” said the priest.

When everyone clapped and shouted in response to the priest’s words, Aunt Iseabail’s voice could be heard above all others. “Give her a wee kiss and make it a good one, Alexander!”

He looked directly at Sybella, and they exchanged a subtle expression of amusement. “I cannae disappoint my aunt.”

Sybella gave him a gentle smile. “Of course ye cannae.”

Her eyes froze on his lips and he lowered his head. Standing on tiptoe, his wife pressed her lips to his, his hands locking against her back. She was soft and warm, and suddenly he was very conscious of where his wife’s flesh pressed up against his.

When their kin whooped and hollered, Alex pulled back slightly and gazed into her eyes. Ignoring everyone, he spoke only to her. “Welcome to Glengarry, Lady Sybella MacDonell.”

Aunt Iseabail rushed to the altar and handed Sybella a tartan sash. “This belonged to Alexander’s wife. Ye should have it.”

“It was my mother’s,” he said.

Sybella accepted the sash with gentle kindness. “Thank ye, Aunt Iseabail.
’
Tis quite lovely and I shall wear it proudly.” She removed the MacKenzie plaid and draped the MacDonell sash over her dress, fastening the garment with the MacKenzie badge.

“I also have a gift for you,” said Alex. He handed her a bejeweled dagger. “I thought of ye and had it made.”

***

“Thank ye, Alexander.”

Although she was reluctant to admit it, the man looked positively dashing in the MacDonell kilt and plaid. God help her, but his blatant good looks were hard to ignore. When he touched his lips to hers, Sybella felt as though she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. In truth, she was shocked at her own eager response to his touch.

“Are ye ready for another feast?” Alexander’s hand came over hers possessively and he smiled.

“I am, but I am nae sure I can say the same for our kin.” She glanced around the chapel at the tired faces. “It seems they are still recovering from last eve.”

“There is that,” said Alexander.

A hand clamped down on Sybella’s shoulder and she jumped.

“Let me be the first to congratulate ye, Sister.
Gu
meal
sibh
ur
naidheachd.
”
Congratulations
to
both
of
you.

“Thank ye, Colin,” she said with a warm smile.

Sybella stepped around Colin, and her father tugged her close. His lips whispered lightly into her ear as he rubbed her back. “Best wishes, my daughter.”

“Thank ye, Father.”

Her father gave a brief nod to Alexander. “Congratulations on your union to my daughter, Laird MacDonell. I am sure ye will find Sybella to be a faithful and obedient wife.”

Sybella stiffened as Alexander clasped her father’s arm.

“Let us hope so, for
’
tis too late to go back on our agreement now,” said Alexander, a trace of laughter in his voice.

Her new husband glanced at her for any sign of objection and so did her father. Sybella bit her lower lip before her mood veered sharply to anger. She didn’t think it wise to have heated words with both men on the day of her wedding. When she looked up at Alexander, he gave her a broad wink as if he knew how she felt.

“Is everything all right,
Wife
?”

“Of course…
Alexander.
” She paused as soon as the word “husband” attempted to escape her lips.

“’Tis so wonderful to have ye here.” When Sybella turned, Aunt Iseabail brought her hands to Sybella’s cheeks. “I hope ye and my nephew will be verra happy for many years to come.”

“Thank ye, Aunt Iseabail.”

The kind woman lowered Sybella’s head and kissed her on the forehead. “
’
Tis a pity the wedding is over. My husband and I wish we could have spent some time with ye, but we must return home on the morrow.”

Sybella’s heart sank and she wasn’t sure what to say. She rubbed her hand over the aging woman’s frail shoulder, giving her a compassionate smile. Sybella was relieved that Alexander was by her side, but she watched as his features grew more concerned the more Aunt Iseabail spoke.

“Dòmhnall, ye have yourself a bonny new bride, and I am looking forward to plenty of bairns under this roof. More than one, I tell ye—and they donna need to be all lads. I donna think my poor heart can handle it.” She raised her hand over her chest and laughed.

His gaze was filled with sympathy. “I am Alexander.”

Aunt Iseabail waved him off. “Of course ye are. Ye remind me so much of your father.”

“Will ye be sitting with William for the meal?” Alexander asked, his tone holding a degree of warmth and concern.

Sybella saw William and gestured him forward. “William, Aunt Iseabail will sit with ye for the meal.”

“It would be my pleasure to enjoy such company again.” William held out his arm to Aunt Iseabail, his smile courteous. “What other tales do ye have for me, Lady Iseabail?” Alexander’s delightful aunt rewarded William with a large smile of her own.

Alexander escorted Sybella to the great hall, accepting felicitations along the way. Once again, she took her place beside him on the dais and watched men and women flow into the hall for the celebration. She couldn’t help but glance at him and notice the worried expression on his face. She sensed his disquiet, and frankly, the feeling of hopelessness was all too familiar. Watching the health of loved ones fade was by no means an easy feat.

“Does Aunt Iseabail lose her thoughts often?” asked Sybella in a soft tone.

Alexander had opened his mouth to reply when her father raised his tankard and spoke in an impressive voice. “May you travel in the truth on straight paths—be moderate and civil and never abandon reason; may your race be numerous throughout the land. And may you see your great-grandchildren following in your footsteps.”

Cheers were shouted out in response to the marital blessing.

Alexander took a drink from his tankard and then looked directly at Sybella. When he realized she was still waiting for an answer to her question, he sighed. “More often than I would like. Ever since my father passed, her mind has worsened.”

Sybella looked around at the celebratory crowd and began to speak as memories flooded her. “I cared for my ailing mother and barely left her side. This was the same woman who raised me and loved me from the time I was a bairn. When her days were good, they were verra good. When they were bad…”

When he raised his brow, she added, “I think
’
tis harder on us to watch their health fail. Aunt Iseabail may call ye by your father’s name and forget the reason for the celebration, but ye still have her. Other than her mind, she seems hale. I know it pains us greatly to see our loved ones nae as they once were, but in truth,
’
tis truly a blessing they are still with us. Donna mourn for the past, Alexander. We should be grateful for the time we have left with them—now, in the present.”

Angus and Mary approached the table and Sybella was irked by the intrusion. “Congratulations again, Cousin,” said Angus, giving Sybella a slight bow. “Mary and I are verra joyful for you both.” Mary stood silently by Angus’s side—ever the dutiful wife.

“Thank ye.”

Angus stretched his arm around Mary’s waist. “We shall be taking our leave on the morrow and thank ye for the hospitality, Laird MacDonell. Colin and I are looking forward to getting back to some hunting.”

Sybella tried to stay the pang of regret that washed over her when she remembered all of the things she would miss with her brother. It was almost as if Angus had intentionally rubbed salt on an open wound, a subtle reminder that she was no longer a part of the MacKenzies.

Alexander leaned forward in his chair. “Are ye both skilled with a bow?”

“I am more accomplished than Colin,” said Angus. “It doesnae take too much to best my cousin at anything.”

When Angus gave Mary a conspiratorial poke in the ribs with his elbow, Sybella’s instinctive response was to reach over the table and throttle her witless cousin. Granted, Colin was not adept with a bow, but Angus had no right to tell that to a MacDonell. Although it was difficult, she willfully restrained her tongue, lest there be bloodshed on the day of her wedding—caused by her own hand.

As a peaceful alternative, Sybella shifted in the seat toward Alexander, clearly dismissing her vexing cousins. “My laird, pray excuse me for a moment.” She rose from her chair and walked to her brother’s table without a backward glance.

***

“Ye must forgive my cousin. She doesnae yet know her place,” said Angus. The MacKenzie man spoke as if he and Alex were longtime friends.