Page 23

Chapter

Twenty-Three

A fter calling back to the crowd that they would meet them in the hall, Niall turned toward the gardens where they’d had that first discussion. Though it was empty, when he put her down and looked at her in a way that left nothing to interpretation, Avelina shook her head.

“Nay, we cannae. Someone may come into the gardens and see us.”

He navigated them to a path behind the tallest trees in the gardens, but even so, they would have little warning were someone to come upon them.

“You are my wife,” Niall said, pulling her into his arms. “If they see us, so be it.”

Avelina looked to the entrance of the gardens. “What if—”

But her words were cut off when her husband’s mouth descended onto hers. His kiss, wild and demanding, was something she could not ignore and did not wish to. So, responding in kind, despite the threat of discovery, it was not long before Avelina wished for more.

Which was precisely when she realized her husband was using both hands to lift her gown. Remembering her surprise, she pulled away and then promptly helped him.

The seamstress had made the fine lace wedding garter as a gift, something Avelina had learned of only when getting dressed.

And for which she was grateful. With no mother or family to speak of present, since her brother refused to attend, and without even her own maid, Avelina had been both nervous and a bit shy until donning the very sultry garter and ties.

Knowing her husband would like them, Avelina was proven right as her gown was properly lifted.

Groaning, he knelt in the graveled stone and proceeded to kiss each of her legs around the material.

Her hands now in his hair, Avelina relished in the gentle touch, his fingers moving each bit of lace to the side to kiss underneath them as well.

By the time he stood, her legs were shaking, Avelina remembering the other times he was between her legs.

He fixed her dress while Avelina used his arms to steady herself to stand. “As dearly as I’d wish to bury myself under your gown,” he said, “I fear ‘twould be noticeable, the disheveled state of your beautiful wedding finery, when we returned.”

“Or,” she said, “mayhap you wish to tease and torment me so that I might be shaking for you by the time the evening comes.”

Niall cupped her cheeks. “You are already shaking for me, love. And I do enjoy it very much. As I did enjoy my surprise. Though not as much as I will enjoy removing them with my teeth later.”

She had no opportunity to explore that visual in her mind before Niall’s lips were on hers once again. Avelina would have remained in the garden for the remainder of the day, but the thought of the hall filled with guests, without a bride or groom, had her pulling away.

“We should attend our own wedding feast.”

“Mmmm.” He did not seem inclined to do so.

Avelina laughed and pulled away further. “Niall.” She tugged on his arm, which was like moving a tree trunk. “The guests.”

“None of which we know.”

“Your brother. Our host?”

At the mention of his brother, Niall’s smile faltered. “I am sorry, lass, your brother refused to attend. I’d not have wished you to be wed with no family members present.” He frowned. “Even if that family member is your brother.”

She reached up to his cheek, wanting to touch him, to thank him for his concern.

Niall closed his eyes when her palm lay there for a moment.

“‘Twas my choice to marry so quickly. One I do not regret, family or nay. I’ve never been one of those maids to dream of my wedding day.”

He opened his eyes, and his hand covered hers. “What do you dream of then, my lady wife?”

“You.”

Niall smiled. “Before me?”

“Before you, I dreamt of being needed. Marching into battle with my brother and using the skills I’ve honed to mean something.”

He did not laugh at the notion as her brother had.

“From the display I’ve seen, you’d be quite useful in battle indeed.”

“Thank you,” Avelina said, having learned, though she was still practicing, to take a compliment without qualifying it. “Shall we go, then?”

Not letting go of her hand but dropping it to their sides, Niall began to walk toward the hall.

“You are my husband,” she said, a chill running through Avelina that had naught to do with the crispness of the air.

“And you, my wife.”

“Why is that so pleasing to me?”

“That I should call you wife?” he asked as those remaining in the courtyard clapped upon seeing her and Niall. Smiling, Avelina ignored the sudden pang in her chest as she thought of some of her clansmen who would have liked to see her wed.

Of course, not to Niall Duncraig. Which was, of course, the problem.

“Aye,” she answered as the front doors of the keep were opened for them.

“For the same reason ‘tis pleasing to me,” he answered, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “you know what a newly married couple do on their wedding night.”

They must have looked very much like the happy couple walking into the great hall, then, Avelina laughing at his words while knowing they were partially true.

As they made their way to the dais, Niall’s brother approached them.

Standing before her, he looked into her eyes.

Something passed between she and the brother, though Avelina could not say precisely what it was.

She knew only that looking into his eyes was like looking at one of her own people.

A familiarity that should not be there between two strangers, their only interactions thus far with Niall.

“You are family now,” he said. “As such…” He knelt, a gesture Avelina did not expect. “I vow to give my life to protect you and will love you like a sister,” he said, his head bowed.

Love. The one thing she did not have from her husband, but as she’d told him, it was not an emotion that could be forced. Neither did Avelina need love, as she’d told him, or expect it in a marriage. “Many thanks, my lord.”

“Kieran,” he said, giving her leave to use his given name.

“Kieran,” she amended, the kinship Avelina felt suddenly with her new brother-in-law unexplainable.

“I leave you to your wedding feast.” He stepped aside with a brief glance at his brother. Her husband seemed pleased by Kieran’s actions. As was she.

Love you like a sister.

Avelina could not be more pleased with her decision. With her husband. Yet that word.

Love.

She’d told Niall she never expected to marry for love, which was true. She did not love him, so surely there was no reason to pine for Niall to feel that way toward her.

What precisely, then, was the fluttering in her stomach when he held her hand as Avelina climbed onto the dais?

Desire. ‘Twas desire.

A sensation that did not abate throughout the meal. Sharing a trencher. Niall’s fingers grazing hers. By the time their host congratulated them and called for the sweet trays to be brought into the hall, it was well into the day.

“I do believe I may have drunk too much wine,” she whispered to her husband.

He peered at her but did not look away. Avelina held her husband’s gaze. When he made a sound deep in his throat, her insides twisted and turned. Not in a bad way but turned nonetheless. Her breath caught looking at him. Imagining him between her legs.

“You are a beautiful woman, Avelina.”

She was so accustomed to him using Lina that the full use of her name surprised her.

“I do love hearing my name on your lips,” she said, oblivious to the revelry around them.

“If you would like, when we share the marriage bed this eve, I will use that name.” He leaned into her. “Do you like that, Avelina? Spread your legs wider for me, Avelina, that I might plunge my tongue deeper into you.”

He sat back.

“Did you really just say those things at the supper table?”

Niall looked down, as if verifying they were, indeed, sitting at a supper table.

“I believe I did, my love.”

She swallowed. “You are a naughty man.”

“I am your naughty husband,” he responded. “Do not forget it.”

“How could I possibly forget such a thing?”

“Mmm.”

That seemed to please him.

“A toast,” their host called suddenly.

All in the hall raised their mugs and goblets, including the newly married couple.

“Two rivals, seated together, as husband and wife. Let it show all who seek to consider their enemies more than their allies, ‘tis better to forge friendships than foster hate. Tannochbrae is proud to host such an event as the union of these two clans.”

While everyone toasted to his words, Avelina’s stomach did another little dance. This one not as pleasant as the last when her husband gazed at her. ‘Twas like a premonition, one that did not settle well with her.

‘Tis better to forge friendships than foster hate.

If she’d not met Niall, Avelina would have continued to foster hate toward his clan. Despite their union, she did so for the men who engaged in the Battle of The Black Friars, who killed her father. ‘Twas not so easy of a thing to let go of hate.

“Something is amiss,” Niall said, watching her.

Avelina shrugged off such thoughts. There would be time later to reconcile her feelings for the clan she’d married into. This was her wedding night, a time not for memories of the past to intrude on the possibilities that lie ahead of them.

“Naught is amiss,” Avelina said, but realized she may have spoken too soon.

Her brother appeared at the entrance of the hall just then.

And he was not pleased.

Not pleased at all.