Page 7 of Lady Len and the Mysterious Mac

Ellen made a face at the assumption about her preference in men. The truth was, she’d never allowed herself to have any preference, to even entertain the notion. But if she were going to choose one, she certainly didn’t see herself picking someone pretty and delicate. She’d have chosen someone like Finn Shaw, someone kind and generous, ready with a laugh, and braw enough to protect a lass should he need to. Sure and all, she might have picked someone a bit smaller, but one could argue there was something pretty and delicate about the lashes of Silas MacKenzie’s amber eyes.

Her mother’s scowl reminded her that proper young ladies do not pull faces.

“Whatever you might’ve preferred, at the end of it you’ll be wed, and he’s going to have certain expectations.”

Oh, holy Mary, please not this. Ellen stared out the window, but the orange hues of sunset looked like the burning fires of hell.

“I won’t pretend it’ll be pleasant,” her mother continued, staring at her own hands, twisting the wedding band with her thumb.

Ellen tried to swallow but her mouth had gone dry, and she was terribly warm.

“A dram will help. Or wine. Whatever you can get really.”

She was absolutely going to faint again. Twice in one day—marriage was turning out to be such a blessing already, but at least it would end this conversation. Gripping the window frame tightly, she forced deep breaths in and out until her mother placed a cold hand on hers and led her to sit on the bed.

“If you’re lucky, it will be over quickly, darling. But the main thing is, you mustn’t cry.”

Ellen snapped to attention. Why would she cry?

“Crying only makes it take longer for most men. Just lie back and think of the beautiful bairns you’ll have because of it.”

Ellen glanced sideways at her mother. Was that what she had done? Pictured the faces of her children to stop herself from crying on her wedding night and twice a week for two decades after? Was that why she sometimes seemed to resent them, Ellen and Maggie both, her two beautiful bairns?

Would Ellen’s future children be small like her, or tall and broad, with golden sunbeams in their eyes?

“Now,” her mother stammered, “the mechanics can be quite, well, surprising—”

That was all Ellen stayed to hear.

She had never disobeyed her mother in her entire life, but the evening of her betrothal seemed as good a time as any to begin, and with a strength she hadn’t realized she possessed, she flew from the bed, threw open the chamber door, and pushed past Maggie to take her chances with the revelers below.

Logan’s brother Lennox saw her and tossed her into the midst of a lively dance, and she was spun back and forth from one to another until she was dizzy and nauseated, ready to fall into the fire just to bring it to an end. Then strong arms caught her once more, only this time she was ushered away from the crowd, and when she opened her eyes in the cool, fresh air, she found her cousin Jory Shaw, standing with her husband Finn, who had performed the rescue.

“All right?” Jory asked, squeezing Ellen tight and leading her deeper into a quiet garden at the far corner of the inn.

Ellen nodded, holding onto Jory just as tightly before casting an appreciative smile at the strapping Highlander who stood guard, blocking them from the chaos and clamor.

“This one’s been lost without ye,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Congratulations, Ellen. Whoever he is, he’s a lucky lad.”

Warmth flooded through her. Finn was the only man besides her father she’d dare let get so close, and he knew it, too, withdrawing a bit so the cousins might speak privately.

Jory took Ellen’s face in both hands and peered at her intently. “How are you really?” she asked.

Tears immediately flooded Ellen’s eyes, and Jory folded her into another tight embrace. “Shh, I know. Maggie said Auntie was giving you a talk.”

Ellen nodded.

“If it was anything like the one she gave me, no wonder you’re upset. Don’t listen to a word of it.”

Ellen laughed but it came out more of a sob.

“I mean it, mo chridhe. Auntie… well, it doesn’t have to be that way. It can hurt, yes, especially if you’re not ready, but that’s the smallest part of it.”

Ellen frowned, wiping away more tears. How on earth could anyone make herself ready for all that?

“There are oils you can use, and if he takes his time, you’ll feel a thousand things at once. Any pain will be the least memorable of the whole lot. I know it’s hard, but it helps if you…” Jory smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “It helps if you take control a bit. That way you can make sure…”

Ellen trusted Jory more than anyone else in the world, but Finn hadn’t been a total stranger. They’d known each other as children and then became dear friends before saving each other from mortal peril. Finn was one of the best men Ellen had ever met. And besides, her cousin hadn’t yet seen the giant of a man she was meant to marry. What did take control a bit even mean? When had Ellen ever controlled anything in her life?