The MacNaughton Bride (8 page)

Charlotte’s blinding, full
blown smile was meant to entice him, but he was looking past it and her to his
wife, who, although it was only about four in the afternoon, was practically
falling asleep in her chair.
 
Not
thinking what it would look like to anyone,
Kell
abruptly ended his dance with Charlotte even though the song was nowhere near
over, and practically dragged her to her brother, who was her only living
relative and entirely overwhelmed in every way by his sly sister.

With a barely courteous
bow,
Kell
headed single mindedly to his bride,
picking her up and onto his lap as he reclaimed his own chair.
 
“Tired, little one?” he whispered,
trying to disturb her as little as possible.
 

She could only nod against
his chest.
 
One of her small hands
came up to clutch at his shirt front, and
Kell
felt
such a surge of conflicting emotions that he wanted to scream with it.
 
On one hand, she conjured deep within
him a very feral, basic urge to protect.
 
That small hand looked so meek and defenseless against just about
anything or anyone in the world.
 
He wanted to wrap her up in cotton and carry her around, making sure
nothing and no one ever had the chance to hurt her again – not her
loutish Uncle or even the memories of her drunkard father.
 
Her father’s brother was only too happy
to unload all sorts of family secrets to the man who was going to take the
burden of his niece off his hands.

The only one he knew he
couldn’t protect her against was himself, and his even baser urges.
 
He adjusted himself – and her
– in his seat, thankful for the forgiveness of a kilt, and the innocence
of his bride, who might still be wondering just what it was that he was wearing
that was poking insistently into her hip.

Kell
pressed his lips to that pale forehead with its damp tendrils of hair and stood
up all at once.
 
Aislinn
barely stirred in his arms until everyone noticed
that the guests of honor were leaving and they rushed to throw nuts and rice at
them as they ascended the stairs.
 
And even then she only awakened enough to peep sleepily over his
shoulder.
 
Her still somewhat fuzzy
gaze fell of all people on Charlotte, who hung to the back of the crowd, eying
the couple with malice in her eyes.

Aislinn
,
who wasn’t trying very hard to wake up, did something in all innocence that
could not have been more calculated to passively slap Charlotte across the face:
she wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and squeezed, burying her face
against his neck.
 

Charlotte had a hard time
not being physically sick as the other guests insisted in indulging in wave
after wave of congratulations and best wishes as the couple ascended the
stairs.
 
She was incensed at having
lost
Kell
MacNaughton
to
another woman – and a Sassenach at that.
 
She had never really given up hope that he would come to his
senses and ask her to marry him.
 
Charlotte knew that it was his brothers that had poisoned his mind
against her with their foul lies and completely unfounded gossip about her.

Well, mostly unfounded
gossip, anyway.
 
She did enjoy
having a good time, and
Kell
was such a stick in the
mud about most things.
 
But he was
a peer of the realm, and she had never been able to stomach the idea of anyone
else being Lady
MacNaughton
.
 

Somehow, some way, she
would find a way to ingratiate herself with
Kell
, and
get rid of that little interloper.
 
She didn’t know how yet, but Charlotte knew from experience that a
solution would present itself in good time, and she had infinite patience.
 

Upstairs,
Kell
took her to the same room she’d spent last night
in.
 
He saw her puzzled look when
he lay her carefully down on the bed.
 
“This is my – our room,” he explained as he began to undo the
buttons down her back, playing lady’s maid in a way that he’d never enjoyed so
much before.
 
Aislinn
tried to pull away, but he gave her a gently sharp command to stand still,
saying, “You don’t want to sleep in this gorgeous dress, do you, lassie?”
 
He undressed her like a child, putting
the dress on a hangar inside the wardrobe then removing the hoops so that she
was standing before him in just her underwear and her hands – which were
covering the already covered strategic areas, which put a small, indulgent
smile on his face.

Lifting her again at his
whim,
Kell
pulled back the covers and tucked her
expertly under them.
 
“I want you
to stay in bed and sleep until I come to you a little later.
 
Don’t get up,” he warned, hoping his
words were getting through to her.
 
She looked like she was already asleep, “or you won’t like the
consequences, little one.”

Aislinn
couldn’t respond.
 
She was so tired
from all the excitement, and the trip that she still hadn’t recovered from, and
the wedding and the reception . . . and the fact that he kept feeding her
morsels of his meal even though she didn’t touch her own.
 
Her full stomach as well as all the
other things that had been going on around her within the past couple of days
conspired to make her want to sleep through the first day of her marriage, it
seemed.

Kell
was wonderfully understanding, and put her to bed like a child.
 
After he’d pulled the covers up and
over her, there was a soft tap at the door and
Kell
went to see who it was.
 
Aislinn
was nearly asleep by that point and couldn’t have
gotten out of bed to greet the Queen herself.
 

“Yes, Jenny?”
Kell
only opened the door a small way, and stood in front
of the opening as a subtle clue to the other woman that he wasn’t going to let
her in.

“I came to see if I can
help with my –
Ais
– Lady
MacNaughton
,
m’Lord
.”
 
She looked a little flustered, as if
she might seriously consider trying to bluster her way past him.

He tried to be as gentle as
possible.
 
This woman was used to
doing everything for his wife, and had done an excellent job taking care of
her.
 
But now was not the
time.
 
“No, thank you, Jenny.
 
I think I have things well in
hand.
 
You may go down and join the
rest of the festivities, and, for your exceptional service to my Lady, you may
have the rest of the week to do with as you please. I’ll see to Lady
MacNaughton
myself.”

Jenny’s eyebrow rose.
 
She’d never been given extra time off
in her life.
 
The holidays were
about the only time she ever got off, and even then she had been responsible
for taking care of the basic things around the house before she was allowed to
leave.
 
She didn’t want time off,
though, and didn’t intend to take it.
 
But she did want to let
Aislinn
know that
there was a small bladder of chicken blood at the top of the headboard.
 
She hoped the
MacNaughton
would leave her alone long enough that she could sneak back up here and explain
to
Aislinn
why – and how – she should use
it.

Jenny thanked the giant
profusely for his generosity, and made her way back to the festivities,
mumbling to herself all the way.

Kell
returned to
Aislinn’s
side and found she was fast
asleep.
 
Chuckling softly to
himself, he practically backed out of the room, trying to make sure that he
didn’t do anything that woke her up.
 
“Hey, what are you doing out of that room?” Grant practically yelled in
amazement.
 
“We had bets going that
you wouldn’t come up for air until the turn of the year – you’re costing
me money, man!”

His older brother frowned
at him.
 
“You were betting on my
wedding night?”
 
Kell
didn’t really know why he was surprised at that fact.

“Of course!
 
I took January fifteenth, myself,
knowing how slow you are in all things . . .”

Kell
slapped his younger brother on the back in a way that, to someone who wasn’t
paying much attention, would have looked like a brotherly gesture of
affection.
 
But he put enough of
himself into it that he made sure that Grant felt it.
 
Kind of like being patted by a brick.

They made their way back to
the reception, where the drinking and dancing had reached epic
proportions.
 
Since he was the
richest man in the region, and the head of the clan, he was providing all the
food and drink, as well as the hall for the celebration.
 
If they had merely been a poor Scottish
couple just beginning their lives together, the guests would have brought their
own food and drink – with extras for others – as well as bringing
substantial gifts to help the couple start out their lives well equipped with
the necessities.

But he was master of all he
surveyed.
 
Perhaps not quite as
definitively as his father, or his father before him, but he was still the
power in the region.
 
The feuds and
the raids that were common place in years gone by were much fewer and farther
between – less likely to be well organized, well run raids conducted by
feuding clans than by out and out robbers whose only interest was the money the
sheep or cattle they stole would bring in – not in sparking or revenging
a clan feud.

He spent the next several
hours dancing occasionally and eating, keeping a careful rein on his alcohol
consumption.
 
Kell
didn’t intend to clumsily deflower his virgin bride.
 
She was much too delicate for that.
 
He wouldn’t hurt her for the world, and
he knew that a bad experience this evening could lead to a lifetime of
dissatisfaction for the both of them, when there was no need.
 
Kell
intended
to make this one of the most wonderful experiences of their lives, and to do
that he couldn’t be in his cups.

Charlotte had been eying
him eagerly from across the room – she was nearly salivating when they
danced together.
 
He had seen the
look of triumph in her eyes when he arrived downstairs to be surrounded by
curious well wishers.
 
Apparently
he unintentionally managed to impress the women in the room when he announced
that he knew
Aislinn
had had a hard few days, with
travel and the wedding, and he wanted to give her time to rest.

The one woman who was not
impressed was Charlotte, and he could see that from across the room – she
was rolling her eyes and shaking her head, deliberately catching his eye while
she did so.
 
When they danced again
after he’d gotten a bite to eat – not at
Kell’s
behest - he wasn’t particularly surprised that she spent her time alternately
sympathizing with the fact that his little wife had gone to sleep on him when
she should have been seeing to his pleasure, and putting her hands in
completely inappropriate places.

Kell
stopped dancing in the middle of the floor and held Charlotte’s jaw in his
fingers hard enough that she would likely have faint bruises that no one would
see under all that powder.
 
“Charlotte,” he hisses, his face so close their noses could bump, “you
never listened to me before when we were close, but you’d better damn well heed
my words now:
 
that woman upstairs
is my wife, and you will show her respect in this house or I will toss you out
on your more than ample buttocks and you will not be welcome at
MacNaughton
Castle again.
 
Ever.
 
Do you
understand me?”
 
Kell
didn’t wait for her response.
 
For the second time that day, he left
her in the middle of a dance – only this time he didn’t bother with the
courtesy of taking her back to her brother.

Charlotte was nodding when
he abandoned her, out of habit more so than any comprehension of his words
– much less the feelings behind them.
 
Someone of his caliber certainly couldn’t have any feeling
for some nobody woman from England – just because she had an adequate
dowry.
 
She could feel pitying eyes
on her as she found her way back to the wall where other wallflowers tittered
at her from behind their hands.
 
But she was made of sterner stuff.
 
Charlotte stiffened her back against the ridicule of others.