“Most folk daenae tease me,” Ian said flatly. “Most folk ken better.”
Flynn raised his brows. “Most folk are nae me,” he said. “And most folk didnae bleed beside ye on the field.”
Ian said nothing, but he did not tell him to stop. There was no man that he trusted more than his man-at-arms.
Flynn leaned back, studying the hall. “She’s a fiery one,” he said. “Reminds me of Melissa when she’s cross.”
Ian grunted. “God help ye,” he muttered. “I married mine without ever courtin' her. She's afraid of me.”
Flynn shrugged. “Fear makes folk honest.”
Ian scoffed softly. “Fear makes folk obedient,” he said.
I ken that from me own father. He ruled with a beastly iron fist with no love for anyone, nae even his own kin.
Flynn shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “It only does that for a time.” He glanced back at Arianna. “Yer wife has too much fire to stay cowed.”
Ian’s fingers tightened around his cup. “Then she’ll learn,” he said.
Flynn met his gaze steadily. “Or ye will,” he countered, still smiling. For a long moment, Ian said nothing.
At last, Ian exhaled slowly. “If anyone else spoke to me like that,” he warned, “I’d have them flogged.”
Flynn smirked and lifted his cup.
Ian shook his head faintly, a grim shadow of a smile tugging at his mouth. The music swelled again, and for the first time that night, the hall felt almost bearable.
The feast had begun to wind down, the great hall’s laughter dimming and the last of the fiddlers’ notes fading into the rafters. Ian noticed Arianna sitting beside him, her hands folded neatly in her lap, the tension in her shoulders unmistakable.
He leaned close, his voice low, and whispered, “Follow me. It’s time we retire to our chambers.”
She blinked, startled, and nodded, rising stiffly from her seat.
As they moved through the hall, Ian could feel her stiffness in step beside him.
“Daenae fash yerself, lass,” he murmured, noting her hesitation. “I’ll no push ye tonight. The only thing we’ll do is sleep.”
Arianna’s lips pressed together in a faint frown.
“Why cannae we sleep in separate rooms?” she asked, her voice almost timid, but firm enough to strike a chord of wounded pride in him.
Ian’s brow furrowed. “Even if we daenae do aught, the castle must believe we did,” he said quietly. “Else they’ll think the marriage unfulfilled until it’s consummated.”
Ian reached for her hand and lifted it high, a small smirk tugging at his mouth. The crowd, still lingering, let out a cheer, catching the ritual in motion. He led her forward, their hands entwined, a procession of watching clanfolk following behind in respect and tradition as they cheered them on.
As they walked, Ian’s mind churned with unease.
Her stiffness at the mention of consummation struck him deeper than he cared to admit.
She finds me repulsive. Me scars and me wounded eye make me repellent in her sight.
It was a sharp reminder that desire and fear often walked hand in hand.
They reached the bedchamber door at last, the torchlight flickering across its carved wood. Ian paused and raised his voice, boisterous and commanding, the words meant for all to hear.
“By this union, the McDonald and McGuire clans stand united! May our houses grow strong and our bloodlines prosper!” He bent slightly, picked Arianna up, and carried her over the threshold.
The door closed behind them with a solid thud, shutting out the murmur of the procession in the hall. Outside, the clamor of clanfolk resumed, as they returned to the great hall once more. Inside, the weight of the night pressed upon them, quiet and tense, as the reality of their union settled in the shadowed chamber. Ian set Arianna down gently, his mind still spinning from the spectacle and the fire of her restrained defiance.
