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Chapter

Twenty-One

S he was supposed to have waited for Niall, but after pacing her chamber for what felt like the entire morn, Avelina finally decided to confront her brother herself. He would be finished breaking his fast by now, something she would have done, too, had she not still been abed.

With her betrothed.

They’d said the words that made the fact official and would wed that very day. A grand wedding between a Duncraig and MacKinlay would be nothing more than a breeding ground for fighting. When Niall first asked if she would consider marrying straightaway, she’d agreed immediately.

What was done, was done. She’d given herself to him, and ’twas no use waiting. Besides, they would not stay here much longer and would be parting ways soon enough. Unless, of course, they were wed.

Which they would be. Today.

’Twas madness, surely. But for once, Avelina had made a choice that was for herself, not her brother or clan. And there was a peace that came with knowing Niall and she would not be parted. Then, of course, there was what he’d done to her last eve.

As she made her way to the hall, her cheeks flushed with the memory of their lovemaking. Three times he’d entered her, the first of which had been painful for a time, but even then she’d eventually found great pleasure. The other two times. . . Avelina smiled.

“Pardon,” she said to a serving maid, “I am looking for my brother.”

“The MacKinlay chief?” she asked, already looking toward her lord’s solar chamber where they’d met the day before.

“Aye,” she said, and the maid led her from the hall, which was mostly empty.

“This way.”

When they arrived, the maid, without authority to enter, said she would fetch the steward to allow them entry.

“There is no need,” Avelina said, knocking on the thick wooden door with her knuckles.

“My lady. . .” The poor maid appeared appalled.

Avelina knocked again. This time, the chieftain himself opened the door. So, no servant to do so? He was perhaps less pretentious than Avelina had first thought him to be.

Her brother was, indeed, inside.

“Pardon the interruption, my lord. But I would speak to my brother on an urgent matter if it pleases you.”

The chieftain gestured for her to come inside. “Of course, my lady.”

Since this matter affected him as well, she blurted out the words that had been swirling in her mind all morn to both men.

“Niall has gone to speak to Tannochbrae’s priest. We’d planned to speak with you both afterward, but.

. .” She saw the chieftain sit from the corner of her eye, but Avelina watched her brother’s reaction. “We will be married at once.”

She need not have watched him so closely for his reaction. Her brother shot up from his chair and, for all of Tannochbrae to hear, shouted precisely the words she expected.

“You will not marry that man.”

Avelina sighed. “I will, Brother. We—”

“I forbid it. You cannae,” he said to the chieftain, “host a wedding I, as chief, forbid.”

“Nay,” he agreed. “I cannae.”

He was about to change his mind. “I am no longer a maid,” she told her brother, Unsuccessfully willing her cheeks not to redden. “So, aye, I will be marrying him.”

Avelina had never before seen her brother this angry. She’d expected it, of course, but ’twas still disagreeable to witness him in such a state.

“You,” he sputtered. “He. . .” Apparently, her brother could not speak.

So, she turned to their host instead. “I do apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you, my lord. But would like to assure you, before my brother questions me further on the matter, I was very much a willing participant in the matter.”

The chieftain looked from her to her brother, his expression a combination of surprise and amusement.

“The matter,” he repeated.

“Aye. Of the loss of my virginity.”

“Lina.” Her brother finally found his voice. “You speak of such things as if they are a trivial matter. We’ve discussed your marriage many times.”

“And many times I’ve told you I have no interest in marriage.”

“Until now. With—” He struggled to compose himself. “The second to the clan chief of Duncraig. The son of the man who murdered your father. Your uncle.”

Before Ewan could continue, she said, “As I’ve stated before, Brother, he did not participate in that battle. Niall killed no one. And ’twas no murder besides. It was a battle sanctioned by the king of Scotland.”

“The lass speaks true,” the chieftain added. “And ’twas many years ago. Perhaps with this union, your clans can find a way to unite. MacKinlay and Duncraig as allies would make this region as formidable as any. ’Tis a fine plan indeed.”

“A fine plan,” her brother spat. “Nay, ’tis not a fine plan, as she—” He turned to her. “You will not be marrying Duncraig.”

As if on cue, the door opened. No knock. No steward’s announcement. Precisely the easy way she’d have imagined Niall might enter the room.

He must have heard her brother’s shouting through the door.

Niall walked up to her, took Avelina’s hand, squeezed it, and said, quite clearly, “She will, either with none but the priest as witness or, if my lord wills it. . .” He turned to the chieftain.

“Tomorrow, as a celebration of two neighboring clans forming a union here in your hall, something that can only benefit Clan Tannochbrae. Either way, the priest agrees the union must be done.” Niall gave his attention to her brother then.

“Assuming you know the state of your sister’s maidenhood already. ”

Every part of her brother wanted to come for Niall. She could see his hands twitching, yet Ewan would not draw his sword in this chamber. The offense to their host would be too great.

“You took what was not yours to take,” her brother seethed.

She did not wish for Ewan to be upset but neither could she back down from this decision.

“I gave it freely, Ewan,” she said softly. “You’ve known of my affection for him.”

“Known and warned against it.”

“It seems your warning was not heeded.” The chieftain sighed. “They will marry either way under these conditions. I would have it be a cause for celebration and will gladly host the wedding feast on the morrow.”

“Wedding feast,” her brother muttered. “There should not be a wedding.”

But there would be, and he knew it. By giving herself to Niall, Avelina had guaranteed it. Letting go of Niall’s hand, she closed the distance between her and her brother. Taking both of his hands in hers, now that the surprise had worn off, Avelina attempted to reach him.

“’Tis of my choosing, Brother. An alliance, perhaps, that may benefit our clan. But either way, ’tis done. I care for him and knew you’d not accept him otherwise.”

“I do not accept him now.”

It was as she expected, even if Avelina had hoped for more. “You do not give this marriage your blessing?”

“I do not.” His answer was immediate.

Squeezing her brother’s hands, she dropped them, but made her intentions clear by moving back to Niall’s side.

Taking his hand once again, exchanging glances with the man who would be her husband on the morrow, she said to the chieftain, “We will gladly accept your offer of a wedding feast and look forward to a cause to celebrate as we await further word about the cattle.”

“Then it appears there is much to be done,” Tannochbrae said with a final glance at Ewan. “I am sorry for it, MacKinlay, but he has taken from her that which cannae be repaired except through matrimony.”

“He did not take it,” Avelina said, though none seemed to listen. She looked up at Niall, who smiled for the first time since coming into the chamber.

A smile that said, “Aye, lass. I did. And would do it again.”

She’d just angered her brother, informed their host there would be a wedding at Tannochbrae tomorrow, and agreed to wed a man whose people would likely not accept her. Despite it, Avelina had just one thought as Niall looked at her in that way.

And it had naught to do with the wedding. Or their host. Or her brother.

But only of. . . the wedding bed.