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"We'd ne'er do a thing like that to ye, lass," Geordie assured her on his heels.
"Sorry, Saidh," was all Alick said as Niels hustled him out, pulling the door closed behind them.
"Aulay," Saidh growled, turning on her oldest brother.
"Settle yerself, lass. I'll take him away," Aulay soothed, then moved to the bed, turned Rory, and then lifted him up and slung him over his shoulder. "Get the door fer me, lass."
Saidh quickly opened the door.
"I'd apologize that yer new husband is in no fit state to tend to the consummation," Aulay said as he started toward her with his burden. Pausing beside her, he bent slightly to kiss her cheek and then straightened and continued out adding, "But since the two o' ye already enjoyed that last night and the proof is in the hall, there seems little need."
Saidh scowled at her brother's back, and then slammed the door behind him and turned to glare at her unconscious husband, her brother's laughter reaching her muffled through the door. Sighing, Saidh shook her head, then walked around the bed to get back into her side. She didn't lie down, but sat and pulled the linens and furs up to her waist, then turned her gaze on her husband.
The man looked ridiculous with the stag horns on his head. Actually, it was the cloth tied under his chin that made him look like an utter arse, Saidh decided. She hesitated, but then pushed the linens and furs down again and shifted to her knees beside him to quickly undo the ridiculous horns and remove them. Shaking her head, she tossed them to the floor, grimacing at the clatter they made. She'd probably just woken up the entire castle with that action, she thought with regret. At least, those who were sleeping--Saidh added the thought as she became aware of the music, laughter and chatter filtering up from the great hall.
There would be a lot of people with sore heads come the morning. Her husband included, she supposed. Saidh tugged a couple of the furs out from under her husband, threw them over him, and then climbed under the linens and furs again. Curling onto her side, she heaved a little sigh and closed her eyes. This was not how she'd expected her wedding night to go.
Greer opened his eyes, and then promptly closed them again with a groan as light stabbed through them and straight into his skull.
"Bloody hell, what happened?" he muttered, covering his eyes with his hands and rolling onto his side.
"Ye drank Dougall under the table, and almost did Rory too afterward, but no' quite."
Greer blinked his eyes open again and found himself staring at a rather large, hairy leg sticking out from under a green, yellow and black plaid. Startled, he pulled back and sat up at the same time, seeing the leg was attached to Aulay Buchanan's body. The man was sitting on top of the furs and linens next to him, back against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles, and arms crossed on his chest.
"What the de'il are you doing in me bed?" Greer asked with irritation.
"Well, first, I do no' believe this is yer bed," Aulay said calmly. "Although, since yer laird here, I suppose ye could argue that e'ery bed in the castle is yer bed."
Frowning, Greer glanced around and realized he wasn't in the master chamber, he was in Saidh's room, in Saidh's bed, and fully clothed.
"Where's me wife?" he growled, getting out of bed and moving to close the shutters. His head was pounding something fierce and the sunlight streaming into the room was not helping.
"She's below breaking her fast," Aulay announced, and then added with amusement, "And nay she does no' ken I'm here."
Finished with the shutters, Greer nodded and turned to eye him. "Why are ye here?"
"To welcome ye to the family," Aulay announced, swinging his legs off the bed and getting to his feet. He walked to the door, opened it, and then paused and swung back to add, "And to tell ye, do ye hurt our Saidh, I'll no' be the only Buchanan seeking to put yer head on a pike."
He didn't wait for a response, but slid out of the room, pulling the door closed silently behind him.
Greer released a small breath and then glanced down at himself. He was a muckle mess, his plaid half unpleated and hanging askew, his shirt stained with what appeared to be whiskey. Greer supposed he'd passed out with his whiskey in hand. That, or Saidh's brothers had poured their drinks on him after he'd passed out.
Grimacing, he left the room to head to his own.
"Oh Greer, good morn, son," Aunt Tilda said with a smile as he entered his room. "Did ye sleep well?"
He glanced to where she sat at Alpin's bedside, nodded and asked, "How's the lad?"
"Still feverish," Lady MacDonnell said with a sigh, reaching to caress the sleeping boy's head.
Greer frowned and then opened his chest to retrieve a fresh shirt and plaid. Slinging them over his shoulder, he then walked over to feel Alpin's head. He was warm, but not as bad as he'd been the day before and Greer relaxed and straightened. His gaze shifted to his aunt. "There's no need fer ye to sit at the boy's bedside. One o' the maids can do it."
"Oh, that's all right," Lady MacDonnell said with a smile, brushing a strand of hair off Alpin's forehead. "I do no' mind."
Greer bent to kiss her cheek lightly, murmuring, "Thank ye."
Straightening, he then headed for the door. "I'm heading to the loch to clean up. I'll no' be long."
"Ye should really order a bath up here instead. Ye'll catch yer death swimming in that cold loch," Aunt Tilda said quietly.
Greer opened his mouth to respond, and then paused abruptly as he recalled that her son had drown in the loch. In the end, he merely murmured, "Mayhap next time," and slid out of the room.
He didn't see Saidh at the table when he passed through the great hall to reach the doors. Her brothers were all there though, and every one of them was smiling or laughing as they ate and talked. It seemed they were not affected by the excessive amounts of drink they'd imbibed last night. Even Dougall, who had been the first to pass out, was chuckling at something one of the men said, looking completely untroubled by the same throbbing Greer was suffering.
Scowling to himself, Greer headed outside.
"Go
od morn, m'laird," the stable master said in greeting as he led Greer's horse out of the stables. "I saw ye coming and thought ye might be after yer wife and want yer horse."
Greer had taken the reins and started to mount, but paused with a hand on the saddle horn and one foot in the stirrups to glance to the man with surprise. "After me wife?"
"Aye. She left on her horse but moments ago," the man said with a nod. "Headed toward the loch, it looked to me."
Greer nodded and mounted his horse, his mood suddenly lifting a bit.
Saidh dove under the water and swam for a distance, then surfaced again. The water had felt ice cold when she'd first entered the loch, but she'd adjusted rather quickly and was now enjoying herself. She'd come here because it had seemed a better idea than staying at the keep and knocking her brothers' heads together. If she had to listen again to them chuckling about the fine trick they'd played on Greer last night, Saidh thought she could happily run at least one of them through. The bastards had deliberately set out to leave him an unconscious mess. Had he succeeded with Rory as he had with Dougall, then Geordie had intended to challenge him next. Saidh was not sure how they'd phrased the challenge to ensure he accepted, but whatever it was had apparently been effective.
"Ye should ne'er swim alone. If nothing else, Allen's death should tell ye that."
Saidh spun in the water to peer to shore, her eyebrows rising when she saw Greer sliding off his mount.
"Aye? And so ye ne'er swim alone then?" she asked dryly as she watched him tether his beast next to her own at the edge of the clearing. He then walked over to set a clean plaid and shirt on a boulder by the edge of the water.
"Oh, aye, all the time," he admitted with amusement as he began to remove his plaid and shirt from last night. "But I should no'."
"Then I shall make a deal with ye," Saidh offered. "You ne'er swim alone and I will no' either."
"Done," Greer agreed easily, tossing his plaid and shirt aside and pausing to prop his hands on his hips and contemplate her. "Are ye naked lass?"
"No more naked than ye are," she assured him, her gaze sliding over his body. If the man was standing there posing in the hopes of raising her lust with his magnificence . . . well, it was working, she admitted to herself with derision. Really, God had gifted him with a fine body. "Are ye just going to stand there all day, or will ye be coming in?"
