Page 13 of Bride Takes a Charmer
“I am to attend a feast this night and wed at the soonest.”
Walen groaned, raised his cup, and waited for Shaw to raise his. Once he did so, his comrade clinked his cup to his. “To the groom, may ye ever be pleasured by the sweetness of your wife.” After they each drank the contents of their cups, his friend poured more ale for them. “Och, not much time then to drink and get well-soddened before the end of your bachelorhood.”
Shaw nodded but barely cared about Walen’s words. Instead, he wondered if Sorsha was still as beautiful as he’d remembered. She had been rather young then, barely half a score plus some years in age. Not only was her beauty evident, but she’d had a tender and kind heart. The lass held beauty inside and out. She’d spoken softly to him and he’d never forgotten the silkiness of her voice, and the way her eyes shone when she looked at him.
It was as if her essence entered him and heated his blood with the need for her. Since her wedding to Rodick, he’d searched for another woman who stirred him with as much desire as she had. Shaw had never found a lass to rival her. Now, he had to ensure that she became his as he’d wanted so many years before.
He peered at his cousin and clinked his cup again to his. “Nay, not much time at all.”
Chapter Five
On the nightof the feast, Sorsha dressed in a rust-colored gown that flowed loosely at her arms and the material fanned at her feet. A gleaming belt of gold surrounded her waist and matched the slippers the queen had given her. The maids did her hair in an elaborate braid that crowned her head and the remainder of her tresses hung long in strands of smaller braids and untethered locks. She peered at herself in the glass of the window casement and almost lost her breath—unable to recognize the woman who peered back at her.
During her captivity and with the distraught of losing Gillian, Sorsha had changed. The free-spirited lass she’d once been was gone. No longer was she the winsome, laughing mother and wife. In her place, a more resigned woman stared back. Now Sorsha just wanted Gillian returned to her and to be left alone by Geoff. She had no sense of vengeance for what he’d done to her. There was no reason to put herself in further danger. Once she got her daughter back, she would find a way to stay clear of the Chattans and prayed that her new husband would cherish and protect her and her daughter.
“Are you ready?” Margaret asked.
“As I shall ever be.” She followed the queen until they reached the king in the hallway outside the great hall. The king motioned her forward into the small antechamber and she entered. She dared not look at those inside, too afraid to face herpast because she feared Shaw Mackintosh wouldn’t remember her or the time they’d spent together.
With slow steps, she crossed the chamber and stood with the other women offered as brides. Sorsha took a breath and raised her chin. Her gaze roved from one braw man to the next as the Highlanders stood grouped across from them. Her breath about ceased and a sense of heat overwhelmed her body. A wariness flushed her skin as if she were that long-lost lass, the girl whose heart was easily won by the charming Highlander.
In spite of his relaxed expression, his muscular body stood braced and ready for the king’s entrance.
Her breath increased as she viewed his stance and the way his tunic hugged the contours of his arms and chest. At his waist, a muted brown tartan was belted and fell to his knees. Her gaze lingered a little at the bare skin of his legs beneath the hem of his tartan until they reached the top of his boots in soft brown leather. Sorsha tried to slow her breathing. The sight of him was still exciting and everything she’d remembered. He was too handsome, too strong, too affecting and her heart raced at the memory of being in his arms. When she saw Shaw, every other man in the room disappeared and a sense akin to coming home settled over her. He was as she remembered. Her heart, which had been pounding with anxiety, slowed, and she was able to draw in a deep breath. At the same time, heat flushed over her, and for a moment she was not the resigned woman in the mirror, she was a girl again, infatuated by the charming Highlander.
The queen entered and gave her a raised brow as she followed King Alexander to the dais. He’d stopped briefly to say something to the Highlanders, who continued to shift on their feet, uncomfortable but apparently resigned to their fates, and then proceeded to move forward. All waited to hear what the king would say. He cleared his throat and motioned to the assembly.
“This is a moment of import, and I am pleased to see you here. We shall now have a feast with dancing and merriment. I will give you this time to greet each other and become familiar. Before the night ends, the selections will be discussed and finalized on the morrow. I bid you to eat and drink.”
Within moments of the king’s speech, the double doors to the great hall opened.
Sorsha was in awe of the splendor. The glamor of the chamber was set by three large candelabras to which many candles sent a glow about the faces of those in attendance. On a platform in the corner, musicians began to play a soft ballad.
She looked around at the women with whom she stood and noticed one young woman who appeared discouraged to be in the chamber with the Highlanders and decided to approach her. Perhaps she felt alone and unsure of herself and this situation in which they found themselves, and didn’t know how to proceed. Her heart went out to her, and maybe because of the wisdom she’d gained from being married to a laird, she felt responsible to help her.
Moving closer, she caught the woman’s eyes with her own and said, “I have not met you before. I am Sorsha of the d’Avranches previously from Cheshire.”
The lady dipped her chin. “I am pleased to meet you Mistress d’Avranches.” She did indeed sound unsure. Sorsha could easily imagine her feelings. If she hadn’t been married already and didn’t know Shaw, she would feel exactly that same way. She tried to set the woman at ease.
“Sorsha, please. I was formerly Lady Chattan but alas, I am no longer. Are you as delighted as I am to have been chosen by the king?”
“I suppose I am,” she said and bowed her head. “I am Kendra of Clan Graham.” The woman gave her a slight smile.
As much as she wished to counsel the young woman further, she noticed the queen staring at her from across the room. Margaret gave her a pointed look and a jerk of her head toward Shaw. She could easily read it to mean she needed to go meet him without delay.Very well then.“We should go and greet the men,” she told Kendra, and then set off, leaving her alone.
It was not her place to help another woman find her husband. She was expected to find her own. So she kept her gaze fixed on Shaw.
He crossed to speak to the queen. As she approached, she overheard Margaret speaking about Mistress Kendra and her aim to introduce her to Laird Cameron.Good.The thought that the young woman wouldn’t be left to fend completely for herself made her feel better about deserting her. The queen was already planning for Kendra’s betrothal and she would choose well for her.
She didn’t mean to interrupt her conversation with Shaw, but she drew close to him and smiled, then curtsied to the queen as was proper, though her eyes remained on him. She knew Margaret would be pleased she was focused on him and—for once—ignored court etiquette. Shaw bowed to her in return, and when he rose, he kept his gray eyes fastened on hers. The recognition in his gaze sent warmth through her. He spoke and even his voice sent a thrill through her, though his words were anything but titillating. “Milady Sorsha, I was dismayed to learn of your husband’s,ah, Rodick’s death. How are ye faring? This must be a difficult time.”
She kept her face lowered so he wouldn’t see the effect his voice had on her. Sorsha had always admired his deep tone which she likened to a caress of the wind when he spoke. Her heart thudded from his nearness, hard enough that she wondered if he could hear it. She took a deep breath and said, “Laird Mackintosh, it is a pleasure to see you again. Aye, Rodickrecently passed and the queen wanted to secure my protection. A woman without a husband is vulnerable to troubles.”
“Indeed she is. Do ye recall when we met here in the king’s castle?” His eyes stayed on hers and she was struck at how even though they were gray as cold steel in color, the expression they held was warm.
She wanted to remind him of their past. “I recall us laughing at the mishap of that servant… remember when she dropped the entire tray of cups on that poor lord?”
Shaw chuckled lightly. “Ah, the Englishman who escorted ye. I remember him well. He was overzealous in his guarding of ye. Come and let us take to the dance.”