“We will, to be sure, avoid contact whenever possible.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “My maid has pointed out that our rooms connect, aye?”
“I shall keep the connecting door locked, if ye wish.”
“Aye, I do.”
“So if that is settled, I understand there is to be a wedding breakfast.”
Annista snorted. “What a farce! In fact, this entire undertaking has been no more than a farce. Aye, then, I suppose we maun go.”
“As ye say, Mistress.”
Wife. I am your wife.
But her lips did not shape those words and neither did his. And they walked back to the manor house like the civilized couple they most assuredly were not.
****
Alan did not know what to make of his wife. She was nothing, absolutely nothing like what he’d expected when his mother talked him into this woeful alliance. Like to her pale sister, he’d supposed. Quiet and retiring.
He’d wedded a firebrand.
When she’d flown at Evan that way—shock had near frozen him. Not but his brother did not deserve it. If she’d marked him—scarred him—he deserved that also.
Yet, as he’d learned over the years, as they’d all learned, it did not do to poke the bear.
The big red bear.
Evan could retaliate and retaliate hard. As they entered the hall where the wedding breakfast was laid out, Alan wondered if he’d just taken on the duty of protecting his wife against his violent and unpredictable brother.
If she’d just earned her own comeuppance.
He glanced at her as she paused just inside the door and took stock of the room. Her color was still high and her wimple askew, the chestnut-colored hair beneath it mussed.
From the vehemence of her attack on Evan.
Evan was not there in the hall. He had no doubt been bundled off to his rooms where his current manservant would be charged with cleaning and trying to sober him up. A thankless job that, and Evan was unable to keep a personal servant for long. Indeed, there had been a few who had lasted less than a day.
Alan could not remember the current fellow’s name, but he’d been in place for a while. Must be a stout soul.
Alan pitied him.
“Come in, come in!” Father invited when he saw them, employing a terrible false heartiness.
Mother was present, of course, and Annista’s father. The two witnesses had gone, which made it into an intimate gathering.
Annista went forward and Alan followed her. Father stepped up to take her hand.
“My dear, I want to apologize for that terrible scene in the chapel. It was most unfortunate in both time and place, but my son is vastly troubled in his mind—”
“Your son, Earl MacKallan, was vastly drunk.”
Father jerked back a half step and his faux smile faded. “Aye, well—that is nay reason for violence on your part.”
Annista stiffened. From Alan’s place slightly behind her, he saw her whole body go taut. Would she fly at Father now?
“He spoke ill o’ my sister. I will defend her—and mysel’—as I see fit.”
