Page 6 of Bride takes a Scot
“You think it matters not what kind of wife ye will be, or how many children ye will have, or how God-fearing ye are?”
Isabella sighed with consternation. “How can such decisions be made when I hardly know the man I am to marry? What if I wed someone who eventually displeased me? I wouldn’t want to have children with such a man. And I shan’t sing my praises of how good a wife I’ll be. I will let my husband judge for himself after he marries me.”
His laughter lightened her. “Well, lass, ye have God-given sense. ’Tis meaningless, is it not—this meeting. We will choose our brides and it will not matter what your answers were or why.”
“Exactly my thoughts. And what, pray tell, are your requirements for a wife? Do you care to share them with me?” She had meant to tease him, but he raised a dark brow at her bluntness.
He gazed at her solemnly, leaned toward her, and said in a low voice, “All I require in a wife is a lass who is kind and is not too much of a harridan.”
“You dislike harridans then?” What was wrong with her? She further teased the giant and then berated herself for being so forthright.
“I might be able to suffer a harridan if she is good in bed,” he teased back. His grin attested to the fact that he was being wicked, baiting her so.
Isabella gasped and her cheeks heated a little because it seemed he meant to encourage her. Perhaps he was jesting. It was true that his jest—if that’s what it was—made her chuckle, and she had to withhold the urge to playfully swat his arm. “You are a knave, Laird MacKendrick. At least you don’t expect much from your wife. But I wouldn’t be too brash because the weddings will be over by this time on the morrow, and you shall be married to one of us. Is Inveraray far north?”
“Far enough, lass.” He leaned against the wall, and it appeared as if their discussion disinterested him. “I detest being this far south, near the border, near England.”
“I understand. Being north, I expect you wouldn’t get on with people by the border.”
“Too many of them side with the Sassenach, and I detest England more than I detest the border barons. They are weak and easily manipulated by the Sassenach king.”
She lowered her face at his bluntness. If that was true, then he was indeed displeased at having to marry one of the women here. Isabella had heard their introductions and the instructions to the men. All the maidens were from the border and all the grooms from the Highlands. She had to wonder if the Highlanders were being punished for something which caused the king to force their hands in marriage to women from a place they disdained.
“Then I shall leave you, Laird MacKendrick, for I am from the border, and I don’t wish to waste your time.” Isabella did a half-curtsey and tried to make her escape.
Laird MacKendrick stopped her by catching her arm. His hold on her elbow forced her to turn back toward him. His touch heated her through the fabric of her overdress sleeve. Isabella withdrew her arm and raised her chin far enough back to look him in the eyes.
“Lass, I said I detested the border barons, but I did not say I detested their daughters.”
Isabella almost laughed at his banter. He had a mischievous shine to his eyes.
“Well, my lord, that’s a good thing since you are set to marry one of us on the morrow. You are fortunate because you get to choose your bride.” She had already shown him her rebellious, un-wifely attitude, so there was no point in playing submissive now. Since she had no choice of who to marry, she decided it was better to give him a show of her spirit beforehand. At least, he’d be aware of it—if he did, indeed, choose her to be his bride. “The king bids me to marry, and I have no say in the matter. But you men do, I suppose. What do you think? Do any of the ladies suit you?”
His eyes raked over her briefly and sent a rush of tingles through her body. It was as if he’d reached out and caressed her with his eyes. Did he notice the adoring look in her gaze becausesurely it was there? There was much more to this man than she’d initially thought. She was surprised to discover that she hoped he liked what he saw in her.
He didn’t smile. “Aye, there is one.”
Chapter Three
The night’s revelrywas lost on Declan. He wasn’t much of a reveler and wasn’t in the mood to celebrate or rejoice at a forced marriage. At home, he had too many pressing duties calling him that took up most of his time. Rarely did he partake of entertainment or revelry. He needed to ensure his soldiers were well-trained for the oncoming war with the Campbells. Being at the king’s castle, in the adorned hall, did little to brighten his spirit. Declan wasn’t much for talk either, and usually, he just gave orders and had them followed.
It hadn’t escaped him that the lass to whom he’d spoken looked as out of place as he felt. She didn’t appear to want to join in the revelry either.
Declan took a short walk outside to escape the crush of the revelers and glaring mamas inside the hall and needed to get some air. He found the king standing in the courtyard and approached. “Good eve, Sire.”
“MacKendrick, what are you doing out here?”
“I thought to take in a wee bit of air.”
“Aye, ’tis a fine brisk night. I say, MacKendrick, you are causing affront.”
Declan frowned and shook his head. “I am here, am I not? How am I causing you affront?”
“You have yet to dance with any of the ladies. Aye, you are being difficult. Have you met any of them yet? On the morrow, I remind you, you will need to choose one of them.”
He blanched at that—the thought of dancing. Declan wasn’t much of a dancer either. The bride, he didn’t mind so much. Once married and back home, he could set her aside and continue on with his duties to his clan. Whoever she was didn’t have to change his life that much, though his king would be satisfied.
To appease his sovereign, he said, “I shall see to the matter posthaste then. And aye, there is one particular lass who interests me. I just might choose her for my bride if she does not get snatched up before I might name her.”