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Bracing himself to face a reluctant bride, Duncan downed a whisky for courage. He had a take it or leave it attitude to women having long ago learnt to neither trust nor need them. They gave him pleasure and he returned it in good measure. They were a temporary respite from the dark thoughts in his head and from the bleakness of his soul. But he knew if he handled this badly with Ailsa, if he was to hurt or repulse his bride, she would never call him husband, would never place her trust in him and for some reason that would feel like a failure.
This wasn’t just a matter of male pride, that Ailsa should be an obedient and loving wife, that she should want him to make love to her, that she should admire his prowess in the marriage bed. If all she represented was land and a means of siring heirs why was it so important that she desired him and that he pleased her abed? Duncan told himself that their union was a just a convenience but it felt like there was more at stake here than peace between warring clans.
So as he climbed the stairs to the wedding chamber Duncan was apprehensive. He had to make love to a woman who may not want to make love to him, not at all the wedding night a man imagines. And as their marriage had to stand before the law, it was essential he consummate it. But there was a very fine line between seduction and coercion that Duncan did not intend to cross.
Unfortunately, his wedding had been a hasty, improvised affair. His uncle had insisted on it taking place at once and they had been married within days with hardly any guests other than those that were essential to making it binding in terms of the law. Immediately afterwards, having got his own way, Hugh had hastened back to Dunslair. So there had been no grand banquet with all neighbouring clans present and the groom had not been met at the altar by a joyous, welcoming bride.
Ailsa, he had to admit, had borne her fate with courage. The effort of not turning and fleeing from him as the vows were spoken had been obvious from her ashen face and tightly clenched jaw. The Campbell’s had furnished her with a fine wedding gown. A rich cream, its tight bodice was beautifully embroidered with tiny gold flowers and the wide skirts billowed softly outwards emphasising her slim waist. Around her neck hung a simple shining crucifix, which nestled just above her breasts, highlighting her beauty and vulnerability. In her purity, she reminded Duncan of a saint facing her martyrdom. He supposed grimly that he must have been playing the part of the devil.
In spite of this, on seeing Ailsa at the altar, his chest had swelled with pride at having such a beauty standing next to him. He had presented her with a plaid of black and red tartan to announce her acceptance into Clan Campbell and his formally taking possession of her. But as he draped its folds gently over her shoulders and fastened it with a silver brooch, she had flinched and refused to meet his eye. No tears came but her discomfort was plain for all to see and his pride was driven out by a sense of shame.
Duncan hesitated outside the chamber door wondering how she might be feeling. Was she terrified at the thought of him? Was she dreading his touch on her skin? Did she want to flee as far and as fast as she could, away from him?
Hugh’s parting words were bitter in his head.‘Don’t come out of that bedchamber without consummating your marriage. You need an heir, and soon, so do whatever you have to do to get one.’ Duncan had never had any time for the romantic notions of women but he did not share Hugh’s view of them as something to be used and cast aside.
His gut was telling him that Ailsa could one day feel more for him than she betrayed in her sharp words. Maybe over time, they could get used to each other and even find some happiness. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and determined that this was one battle he would not lose. Then he opened the heavy door to confront his reluctant bride.
Ailsa had been deposited in the bridal chamber by several servants. They had let down her hair and hastily removed her heavy wedding gown. It was a relief to feel its weight lift off her and its vice-like stays removed so that she could catch a breath. She had felt the overwhelming desire to rip it off and tear it to shreds in front of Duncan. However, the shift that remained made her painfully aware of her vulnerability and of what would happen this night. Exquisitely embroidered and adorned with lace, its diaphanous material clung in places to her soft curves. It was a flimsy protection against him and she would have preferred a suit of armour.
She shivered in spite of the fire and the women wordlessly draped a plaid of black tartan, Campbell colours, over her stiff shoulders to warm her. So the laird had already staked his claim on her it would seem. Ailsa could scarcely believe she was married and was standing with these ladies making her look pretty for the pleasure of her husband.
Husband – the word had a sense of finality to it. The priest’s words from the marriage ceremony seeped into her head. He had said she should be ‘in subjection and under the governance of her husband, so long as they both continue alive.’ Although she railed at the thought of being owned Ailsa had the intelligence to realise that resistance was pointless. She could not fly from the rooftops or burst through the bleak stone walls to freedom. She was trapped and must suffer her fate, so she rallied her courage and decided that she would lie still, with eyes shut tight, and allow Duncan to do what he would. She would not succumb to her desires and allow him to arouse in her that yearning and reckless excitement which had so shamed her before.
The servants readied themselves to leave and Ailsa, choking back sudden panic, grabbed one by the arm. ‘Wait! What should I do? No one has told me what to do.’
‘Why you should try and please your husband, my lady,’ smiled the servant kindly, ‘and you are so pretty and pure you are sure to delight him.’ She was an old woman, many years in the service of the MacLeods and wise enough to recognise the distress on Ailsa’s face. ‘Sad lass, that you do not have your mother to advise you. The act is nothing to fear, a small pain the first time but that is all. And your husband is a fine, handsome chief, young and lusty. He’ll know full well what to do. You are very lucky to have such a man in your marriage bed for there’s many a jealous lassie longing to take your place tonight,’ she cackled cheerfully and with these words, she scurried off.
‘They’re welcome to it’ thought Ailsa defiantly. Though she had to admit there was truth in her words. Duncan had certainly been a sight to behold as they had stood together at the altar. The Campbell plaid swathed around his shoulders had perfectly complimented his thick dark hair. He stood confidently before the priest, almost a head taller than the other men around him, broad-shouldered, powerful and almost overpoweringly male. And when he had turned and looked at her there was a fire in his eyes.
‘Hold on to me,’ he had commanded in his dark, rich voice, holding out his arm and she had done so as if in a trance.
As she paced nervously back and forth she glanced over at the formidable canopied bed. The servants had decorated it with garlands of flowers. They had tried their best to make it look pretty but to Ailsa, it appeared worse than a torture chamber in the darkest pit of hell.
Moving closer to the fire she decided she must guard her feelings well and try to think of something else when he lay on her, when he touched her. She prayed he wouldn’t kiss her; it was dangerous when that happened. She had lost control of a part of herself when his lips were on hers. With this thought racing around her head her husband burst through the door.
Duncan’s tall muscular frame filled the doorway and an icy draught followed him in. He closed the door with a firm thud shutting out the rest of the world.
Ailsa noticed that despite the chill he quickly shed his plaid and heavy blue woollen jacket and dragged loose his shirt from his kilt. Where it fell open at the neck Ailsa could see pale skin and dark hair and heartily prayed he would not remove anything else. This was going too fast and the reality of her situation suddenly hit hard. Duncan seemed impervious to her tension and, crossing the room in a few broad strides, he loomed over her.
‘So wife, we find ourselves on our wedding night,’ he said quietly. The room was silent save for the crackle of logs on the fire. ‘Be assured you have nothing to fear from me tonight or any other night. I have never forced myself on any woman and I am not about to start now. I am not that kind of man,’ he said, anger at his uncle’s ruthlessness still burning in his chest.
Ailsa, who had been holding her breath at his words, let it out in relief. ‘Your uncle said that for the sake of peace we must consummate this marriage or it is not legally binding and anyone may overthrow it at will. He said there would be grave consequences for me, my clan and especially my brother were I to fail in my duty as your wife.’
So Hugh had been bullying her too damn him. The last thing Duncan wanted was for his new wife to be intimidated into having him. He choked down his anger and tried to be kind. ‘It’s true enough that this marriage must stand in order to unite our clans but I will not threaten you through your brother. Robert has already been set free. I sent word yesterday to Dunslair.’
Ailsa turned to face the fire clearly struggling to contain her emotions at this news.
‘Where is he?’
‘God only knows. Hugh would have given him some coin and a horse, not a good one, along with safe passage through Campbell lands. If Robert has any sense he will go south and far away from me but it’s far more likely the dog has returned to his master.’ Duncan could not see her face and somehow this made it easier for him to continue. ‘Robert is free now no matter what happens between us.’
‘But your uncle..?’
‘My uncle can go to hell,’ he replied coldly. ‘We are joined now Ailsa as husband and wife. The law would say you are mine to do with as I see fit yet it’s clear that you did not want this union so I will not have you against your will. But Ailsa you should know that I want you … very much…and I meant what I said. I will protect you and try to be a kind and dutiful husband. All I ask is that you give me a chance.’ He was met with silence.
‘I know I can make you want me Ailsa. I can give bring you pleasure. You are innocent of the marriage bed. Let me show you what it is to give yourself to another wholeheartedly. I promise I will treat you gently and if you would only trust me we can get through this night together...pleasurably.’
Though his voice was calm and quiet Ailsa thought she detected a note of frustration and even desperation in his last words. Perhaps she could try. She had nothing to lose by it and everything to gain by letting him think he was having his way. Powerfully built as he was she could not hope to fight him off; this man could do to her whatever he wanted. Better to try to hang on to some dignity and let him seduce her so that she could pretend to herself that she wanted him. The alternative was much more humiliating. She comforted herself with the thought that at least she had earned Robert’s freedom. Duncan had been true to his word in that at least.
