Five

Sybella’s eyes burned from sleeplessness. Her mind kept turning to last eve—or should she say a few short hours ago—when her betrothed had snuck into her chamber through the adjoining door. Alexander had some bollocks; she would give him that. Did he presume their wedding night would start earlier than expected? She had feigned sleep to deter any advances and had breathed a sigh of relief when he eventually left. Only the gods knew what went on in that man’s head.

She pulled out her wedding dress and tossed it on the bed. At least her tiredness would keep her sanity at bay. She splashed some water from the bowl onto her face, but it was not as cold and bracing as she’d hoped it would be. She needed something to snap out of this tired stupor. When there was a knock at her door, she picked up a cloth and dried her eyes.

“Sybella, ’tis Mary.”

Praise the saints.

Mary swung open the door, and Sybella didn’t think fast enough to close it again. Mary stood with her hands on her hips, assessing Sybella from head to toe. “Look at ye. Ye arenae even dressed. Your hair is a mess, and your eyes look as though ye were in a brawl.”

“And good morn to ye as well, Mary,” said Sybella with a bright smile.

Mary closed the door and spoke in a rush of words. “Come now. Ye must make haste.” She approached the bed and then brushed the top of the feather mattress with her hand as if she were wiping crumbs from the table. “I am nae saying anything about last eve because I know ye were distraught, but there is something we need to discuss before ye speak your vows.”

Sybella cringed. “And what might that be?”

“There is nay delicate way to speak upon such matters so I will be blunt.”

“I would expect naught less,” Sybella said dryly.

“There are certain duties a man expects from his bride on the eve of his wedding.”

When stains of scarlet appeared on Mary’s cheeks, Sybella gave her a polite smile. “Please spare us both. Ye donna need to discuss such subjects with me.”

“Since your dear mother is nay longer with us and I am the only woman of close relation, ’tis my duty, Sybella. How will ye know what to expect if nay one tells ye?”

A suffocating sensation tightened Sybella’s throat. From the look upon Mary’s face, she was not going to give up on her commentary any time soon. With a sense of dread, Sybella knew the battle of wills was lost before it had even begun. It didn’t help that Mary was right. Sybella didn’t know what to expect on the eve of her wedding, and frankly, she was more than a little curious and nervous.

While Mary talked in very specific terms, Sybella studied the furnishings. She gazed at her gown. She stretched her neck and almost forgot to give the occasional nod. With that, the detailed instruction on coupling was finished, and they got back to the task at hand.

Sybella was lifting the gown over her head when Mary asked, “Are ye all right?”

After pulling down the dress, Sybella straightened her bodice. “Of course.”

“Ye can talk to me. I know this must nae be easy for ye.” When Sybella gave her a wry smile, Mary studied her intently. “Come sit down and let me fix your hair.”

Sybella sat on the bed while Mary brushed her hair. For some reason, Sybella’s palms had started to sweat. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “I donna know what is the matter with me, but my stomach is verra unsettled. I think I feel ill.”

“’Tis perfectly normal for all new brides. Once ye see your betrothed at the altar, ye will find your nervousness disappears. Trust me. The man will only have eyes for ye. There. Ye are all done. Ye look beautiful, Sybella, and I’m sure your mother would be verra proud.”

For the first time since she could remember, Sybella hoped that was true.

* * *

Alex stood in front of the altar in the stone chapel, waiting patiently for his betrothed. Bloodshot eyes stared back at him, and some of the men leaned up against the wall. Everyone was indeed a sorry sight. His clan sat to the right and Sybella’s kin to the left. Aunt Iseabail was the only MacDonell who sat next to a MacKenzie. She sat in the pew next to William, beaming approval. Alex hadn’t seen that spark in her eyes since last eve, when she was in her cups and doting on the MacKenzie man. Alex briefly contemplated whether or not his betrothed had fled when a vision of beauty stepped foot through the entrance.

The MacKenzie plaid was proudly draped over Sybella’s shoulder, and her sky-colored gown displayed a slim waist that flared into rounded hips. The sun illuminated her long golden tresses, making them look like strands of lustrous silk. She was simply…enchanting.

Escorted by her father, she walked slowly and moved with an easy grace. She nodded at a few people along the way and approached Alex at the altar.

He couldn’t help but smile. “My lady.” His voice was shakier than he would have liked.

She curtseyed in response. “My laird.”

The priest asked something of Sybella’s father and the MacKenzie may have answered, but to be truthful, Alex only half listened. Sybella was simply beautiful, and he could barely take his eyes from her. Everything that happened next would remain a haze around the edge of his mind.

He believed he had spoken his vows when he heard his stammering voice, which was nothing but a buzz in his ear. But when Sybella spoke, there was a gentle softness to her words. Her tone was comforting, calming. Or maybe it only sounded that way because he’d barely slept.

“Ye are now man and wife,” said the priest.

When everyone clapped and shouted in response to the priest’s words, Aunt Iseabail’s voice could be heard above all others. “Give her a wee kiss and make it a good one, Alexander!”

He looked directly at Sybella, and they exchanged a subtle expression of amusement. “I cannae disappoint my aunt.”

Sybella gave him a gentle smile. “Of course ye cannae.”

Her eyes froze on his lips and he lowered his head. Standing on tiptoe, his wife pressed her lips to his, his hands locking against her back. She was soft and warm, and suddenly he was very conscious of where his wife’s flesh pressed up against his.

When their kin whooped and hollered, Alex pulled back slightly and gazed into her eyes. Ignoring everyone, he spoke only to her. “Welcome to Glengarry, Lady Sybella MacDonell.”

Aunt Iseabail rushed to the altar and handed Sybella a tartan sash. “This belonged to Alexander’s wife. Ye should have it.”

“It was my mother’s,” he said.

Sybella accepted the sash with gentle kindness. “Thank ye, Aunt Iseabail. ’Tis quite lovely and I shall wear it proudly.” She removed the MacKenzie plaid and draped the MacDonell sash over her dress, fastening the garment with the MacKenzie badge.

“I also have a gift for you,” said Alex. He handed her a bejeweled dagger. “I thought of ye and had it made.”

* * *

“Thank ye, Alexander.”

Although she was reluctant to admit it, the man looked positively dashing in the MacDonell kilt and plaid. God help her, but his blatant good looks were hard to ignore. When he touched his lips to hers, Sybella felt as though she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. In truth, she was shocked at her own eager response to his touch.

“Are ye ready for another feast?” Alexander’s hand came over hers possessively and he smiled.

“I am, but I am nae sure I can say the same for our kin.” She glanced around the chapel at the tired faces. “It seems they are still recovering from last eve.”

“There is that,” said Alexander.

A hand clamped down on Sybella’s shoulder and she jumped.

“Let me be the first to congratulate ye, Sister. Gu meal sibh ur naidheachd.” Congratulations to both of you.

“Thank ye, Colin,” she said with a warm smile.

Sybella stepped around Colin, and her father tugged her close. His lips whispered lightly into her ear as he rubbed her back. “Best wishes, my daughter.”

“Thank ye, Father.”

Her father gave a brief nod to Alexander. “Congratulations on your union to my daughter, Laird MacDonell. I am sure ye will find Sybella to be a faithful and obedient wife.”

Sybella stiffened as Alexander clasped her father’s arm.

“Let us hope so, for ’tis too late to go back on our agreement now,” said Alexander, a trace of laughter in his voice.

Her new husband glanced at her for any sign of objection and so did her father. Sybella bit her lower lip before her mood veered sharply to anger. She didn’t think it wise to have heated words with both men on the day of her wedding. When she looked up at Alexander, he gave her a broad wink as if he knew how she felt.

“Is everything all right, Wife?”

“Of course…Alexander.” She paused as soon as the word “husband” attempted to escape her lips.

“’Tis so wonderful to have ye here.” When Sybella turned, Aunt Iseabail brought her hands to Sybella’s cheeks. “I hope ye and my nephew will be verra happy for many years to come.”

“Thank ye, Aunt Iseabail.”

The kind woman lowered Sybella’s head and kissed her on the forehead. “’Tis a pity the wedding is over. My husband and I wish we could have spent some time with ye, but we must return home on the morrow.”

Sybella’s heart sank and she wasn’t sure what to say. She rubbed her hand over the aging woman’s frail shoulder, giving her a compassionate smile. Sybella was relieved that Alexander was by her side, but she watched as his features grew more concerned the more Aunt Iseabail spoke.