She hid the disgust she felt at having to acquire permission to bathe. What kind of man denied such a request? Apparently, the kind that she was to marry. For the umpteenth time, she tried to understand what her father had been thinking in making this arrangement, finally realizing that he had only been thinking of himself.
An hour later, Alana was seated at a long dining table across from her betrothed, a filled chalice of honeyed mead in her hands. Edna had done her best to clean Alana up and make her as presentable as possible, but the man across from her did not look happy.
She assessed him and determined that it should be she who was the unhappy one. The man was not old, but he looked old. Rory had mentioned they were close in age. She could not see that, and if she had met the man under different circumstances, she would have assumed he were closer to her father’s age. Short and stout, with a round belly that affirmed he had never missed a meal. His balding pate was accentuated by the three long strands of hair he combed over to the side, trying, and failing, to hide the fact that he was, indeed, balding. His pockmarked skin was red and pale both at the same time. He didn’t look healthy. He looked gluttonous.
He was a completely different visage than Rory. She would indeed be thinking of him oft whilst she was in the company of this man that would soon be her husband. Alana did all she could to control the shudder that overtook her at the thought.
“Is there a reason why ye have come to me dirty from yer travels?” he snarled, his lip curled in disgust.
“I-I thought I needed yer permission to bathe, my laird.”
He scoffed. “Aye, weel, permission granted. As soon as we finish this conversation I expect ye to bathe. In the future, dinnae disgrace me with yer filth.”
Alana only nodded. She didn’t ken the circumstances regarding Edna and she would not say aught to get the girl in trouble.
“And ye will address me properly. Dinnae disrespect me with anod.” He pierced her with a glare until she understood his meaning.
“Aye, my laird.”
“That is better. The wedding will take place in three weeks’ time. The ceremony will be here. Yer parents may attend if they choose, but they are not needed.” He spoke coldly, as if he were making a land deal. There was naught personal about his words. As a matter of fact, he had yet to ask her how she fared, or aught about her.
“Ye will see,” he continued, “the Highlands are a much tougher climate than yer lowlands.” He laughed. “I dinnae e’en ken why we bother with keeping the lowlands as part of Scotland. We might as weel offer the land to England. ’Tis the same thing.”
“I dinnae believe that is the case at all. The land is quite lovely. Of course, ’tis no’ nearly as mountainous as ’tis here, but it has ’tis own beauty.”
MacDonell scoffed. “Spoken as someone who has only kenned that land. As I said, the King should order it be granted to England. ’Tis quaint with its flatlands and meadows.”
Alana tried very hard not to feel affronted at the dismissive way he spoke of her home. But he was so cynical and dismissive that it was difficult.
“The Highlands build warriors. True warriors.”
She couldn’t fault him there, thinking of Rory. A definite true warrior. What was he doing now, she wondered. Scaling mountains that he couldn’t when she was with him. Was he thinking of her as she was of him?
“Are ye listening?” MacDonell snapped.
Her gaze clashed with his angered one and he banged his fist on the table, causing her to jump.
“I apologize, my laird.” She quickly tried to come up with an excuse for her not paying attention to his words. “I was only thinking of how lovely yer home is,” she lied.
He regarded her for a moment, and then licking his thin lips, hesmiled. “’Tis lovely is it no’? It has been in our family for generations and I dinnae see that changing anytime soon. We have a small chapel off the left wing. That is where our ceremony shall be held. Then we will have the bedding ceremony.”
Bedding ceremony? Alana’s heart jumped into her throat. Of course, he would expect to have a bedding ceremony. Lord help her. How? She did not ken how she could either get out of the bedding ceremony or manage to fool him into believing she was a virgin.
She smiled, but quickly stopped when he noticed.
“Aye, ye’re looking forward to the bedding ceremony?” His eyes slid down to her bosom and then he leaned to the side, taking in the rest of her body. “It might be pleasurable—for me,” he added with a chuckle.
Alana wanted to retch.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rory was preparingto leave Caer Rannoch and Alana behind. His heart as well. He was speaking with the stable boy regarding the supplies he would need for his return trip back to Hartsmoor when MacDonell came to find him.
“Ah, Hart, there ye are,” he said. “I looked for ye in the Great Hall but must have missed ye,” his sneer was condescending kenning damn well Rory had spent the night and meal with the servants and guards.
“Is Alana weel?” He asked, holding his breath when he realized what he had done—revealed too much.
MacDonell was smug when he answered. “She is fine. And she will forget ye soon enough. Dinnae fash o’er that. Once I have tamed her she’ll be thinking of nay one else.”
