“Now, you agreed to this marriage, the banns have been posted, and today is yer weddin’ day. So come here and get you prepared.”
Aye, she’d agreed, but only because her father had made it clear she had little choice. Not because her heart skipped a beat whenever she thought of that kiss.
Speaking before she could stop herself, she asked what she had been wondering all morn. “Will you tell me, if this must be done, of the marriage bed, then?”
Màiri could feel her cheeks warming as she spoke, but there was no help for it. By nightfall, she would no longer be an unmarried maid . . . unless Ambrose surprised her and did something to stop the wedding from happening. But she’d been waiting several days for him to come, and he had not. Would he be there, at the ceremony? What would she say to him? And he to her?
It would seem the afternoon would be an eventful one, if not entirely pleasant.
8
If Ian had ever botheredto envision his wedding day, it wouldn’t have looked like this: standing beside an angry-looking, albeit beautiful woman on the front steps of a chapel in the middle of Scotland. It was no Saint Louis Cathedral. There’d be no second line. But at least one brother was with him to witness what would someday be hisfirst wedding, at least to those in the know.
Do you remember that day, Grey would say,when you royally pissed off that Scottish laird and were forced to marry his daughter?They would laugh about it. Someday.
But just now it wasn’t particularly funny. It was beyond him why they couldn’t at least go inside the chapel. Apparently the service that would follow their wedding vows was nothing more than a regular old mass.
They should really make an exception in the middle of winter. It was fucking cold.
A not-so-gentle nudge in his side forced his attention back to the priest. Shit, his bride-to-be had a hell of an elbow. The priest was apparently waiting for some kind of response from him. It would feel a bit rude to ask the old guy to repeat himself.
Before he’d tuned out, the priest had asked Màiri if she accepted the terms, so Ian supposed it was his turn. Hopefully he wasn’t agreeing to anything too outrageous.
As if anything was more outrageous than the actual fact that the two of them were standing here, getting married.
“I do.”
Another jab. So, not the right answer. What was it Màiri had said?
“Aye, Father. I will.”
He would have to ask Grey what “bonny and buxom in bed and at board” meant, exactly. He had caught that bit. Although he could probably guess at the second part on his own, not that it mattered.
There was no kissing the bride. They were practically shoved into the chapel, and Ian wouldn’t have even known for sure that he was now married if Greyson and Marian hadn’t offered their hearty congratulations.
His brother seemed to be having fun with this now that the initial shock of his foolish actions had worn off. Oddly, he was separated from Màiri, who was escorted to the opposite side of the chapel by her father, who hadn’t stopped glaring at him since the start of this—after he’d agreed to the marriage . . . during the negotiations . . . throughout the ceremony. He was angrier than Ian had been in his last fight with his mother.
His chest constricted as it did every time he thought of that morning.
It’s okay to leave, she’d told him.They’ll be your brothers whether you work with them or not.
His knee-jerk reaction had been to think she believed him less capable than the others—she didn’t see him as an asset to the family company. Only later, after his temper had cooled, had he realized she genuinely cared about his happiness. Somehow she’d known what no one else seemed to notice: Ian was unhappy in his job.
His position at McCaim Shipping was as corporate as you could get. And he hated everything about it, except for being in business with his brothers.
But he hadn’t been ready to admit it, not even to her, and she’d walked out of the kitchen, shaking her head.
It was the last time he’d ever seen her.
“Jesus, Ian. At least try to look less like you’re about to jump off the Causeway.”
Grey stood up next to him in the uncomfortable wooden pew they’d been herded into. At least this felt familiar.
“She’s looking at you.”
Ian ignored his brother, already aware of the fact. He could feel her gaze on him.
“Ian.”
