Page 30 of The Chief's Wild Promise
The revelry had stretched on, continuing long after dark—eventually though, the time came for Bran and Makenna to take their leave of the great hall and climb to their bedchamber.
Leaving the jeering behind, Makenna clambered up the steep stairwell as if pursued by wolves. She was in no hurry to be alone with her husband, but at least when they reached her bedchamber, they’d be away from the heckling. And as she climbed, she heard the scuff of her husband’s boots on the damp stone behind her.
Neither of them spoke while they made their way up to the landing on the fourth level of the tower house. Makenna then led the way down the narrow passageway, lit by guttering cressets, to her bower. It had been readied for them, with an oaken log burning in the hearth, and flickering candles upon the mantelpiece and the window ledge.
And some thoughtful person had scattered rose petals over the bed.
Makenna clenched her jaw at the sight. Curse it. This was really happening. She wasn’t the least bit ready for her wedding night, and when she turned to face her husband, one look at Mackinnon’s face told her that the sentiment was mutual. He wore a look of grim determination, as if he were about to have a boil lanced.
“Well.” Hades, her voice sounded like a frightened sheep’s bleat. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “This is it, I suppose.”
“Aye,” he grunted. “It was inevitable.”
Makenna stilled.Inevitable.Aye, she supposed it was.
She eyed him then, still trying to find the measure of the man who was now her husband. Mackinnon cut a fine figure today. She’d noted how striking he’d looked as she walked toward the chapel on her father’s arm. He wore a snowy-white lèine tucked into fawn-colored braies. The bright Mackinnon clan sash draped across his chest, although it was no match for his flame-red hair. Earlier it had been combed neatly, but now, as their wedding day drew to a close, it was mussed, flopping boyishly over one eye.
Things could be worse, she supposed. Her husband could be as ugly as a toad.
Comely or not though, she had no wish to disrobe in front of him and do any of the things that couples did behind closed doors. Her heart kicked then, and faintness swept over her.
“I could do with another cup of wine,” she announced, moving across to the table where a ewer and wooden cups sat waiting. “Would ye like one too?”
“Aye … thank ye.”
They’d both imbibed a great deal over the course of the feasting and dancing, although Makenna still felt alarmingly sober. She wouldn’t get through this unless she took the edge off.
Relieved to have something to do, she poured them generous cups and handed him his. She then retreated to one of the two high-backed chairs before the fire. It wasn’t a cold night out, yet the glowing hearth was comforting, and she was drawn to its reassuring warmth.
Meanwhile, Mackinnon didn’t move from the center of the bower. Instead, he stood there, holding his wine, watching her with a veiled expression now.
“Ye might as well take a seat too,” she said, a trifle ungraciously. “Ye make me nervous … looming over me like that.”
He snorted. “I doubt anyone could ever makeyenervous.”
Makenna pulled a face. “Ye’d be surprised.”
He obliged her then, moving to the chair opposite and stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankle. He took a draft of wine, his gaze settling upon her. “If it makes ye feel any better, I too am on edge.”
Aye, the knowledge did help, although it was surprising. She hadn’t expected him to be so candid with her. Not for the first time this evening, his frankness had caught her off-guard.
Raising the cup to her lips, she took a fortifying gulp. “I suppose I can understand why.” She grimaced. “I did knee ye in the cods recently.”
He winced. “Can wenotbring that up tonight?”
Their gazes met and held for a few moments before Makenna took another sip of wine. This was so awkward. She had no idea what to say to this man. This stranger who was now her husband.
The silence settled, heavy yet brittle, until eventually, Mackinnon broke it. “There’s something ye should know,” he said roughly.
Makenna inclined her head. “Aye?”
“I’ve never bedded anyone before.”
14: WE ALL WEAR MASKS
MAKENNA BLINKED. “YE haven’t?”
He nodded, a muscle feathering in his jaw.