“Rionna, I just took sacred vows to protect you. That means I’d lay down my life for you and for any future children we have. We’ve already a snake in our midst trying to poison Ewan. Now that you and I are wed, what better way to prevent the alliance between our clans than to kill you?”
“Or you,” she felt compelled to point out.
“Aye, ’tis a possibility. But if McDonald’s only heir is dead then his clan effectively crumbles, which makes it easy pickings for Duncan Cameron. You are the heart of this alliance, Rionna. Whether you wish to believe it or not. Much rides on your shoulders. I guarantee you it won’t be easy for you.”
“Nay, I never imagined differently.”
“Smart lass.”
He piddled with the goblet before sliding it toward her. Then he solicitously lifted it and held it to her mouth, just as a new husband would do for his bride during the wedding feast.
“Drink, Rionna. You look exhausted. You’re on edge. You’re so stiff that it can’t be comfortable. Take a drink and try to relax. We’ve a long afternoon to endure.”
He hadn’t lied.
Rionna sat wearily at the table as toast after toast was given. There were toasts to the McCabes. Toasts to the new McCabe heir. Ewan and Mairin were the proud parents of a newborn lass, who also happened to be the heir to one of the largest and choicest holdings in all of Scotland.
Then there were toasts to Alaric and Keeley. To Keeley’s health. Then the toasts to her marriage to Caelen began.
At one point they degenerated into lewd toasts to Caelen’s prowess, and two lairds even began a wager as to how fast Rionna would find herself with child.
Rionna’s eyes were glazing over and she wasn’t entirely sure it was due to the lengthy accolades being tossed about. Her goblet had been refilled more times than she remembered but she drank on, ignoring the way it swirled around in her belly and made her head swim.
Laird McCabe had decreed that despite the many issues that bore discussion and the decisions that must be made, today would be spent in celebration of his brother’s marriage.
Rionna suspected that Mairin had everything to do with that decree. She needn’t have bothered, though. There was little cause for celebration in Rionna’s mind.
She glanced sideways to see Caelen sitting back in his chair, lazily surveying the occupants of the table. He tossed back an insult when one was flung his way by one of the McCabe men. Something to do with his manhood. Rionna shuddered and purposely blanked her mind to the innuendo.
She gulped down another mouthful of the ale and put the goblet back down on the table with a bang that made her wince. No one seemed to notice, but then it was unbearably loud.
The food before her swam in her vision, and the idea of putting it to her mouth, despite Caelen having cut the meat into bite-sized morsels, turned her stomach.
“Rionna, is anything amiss?”
Mairin’s soft inquiry jolted Rionna from her semi-daze. She glanced guiltily up at the other woman and then blinked when Mairin suddenly became two people.
“I should like to see Keeley,” she blurted.
If the laird’s wife thought it odd that Rionna would wish to visit with Keeley on Rionna’s wedding day, she didn’t react.
“I’ll go up with you if you like.”
Rionna sighed in relief then started to rise from her seat. Caelen’s hand snapped around her wrist and he tugged her back down, a frown marring his features.
“I wish to see Keeley since she wasn’t able to attend my wedding,” Rionna said. “With your permission, of course.”
She nearly choked on the words.
He studied her for a brief moment then relaxed his grip on her wrist. “You may go.”
It sounded so imperious. So … husbandlike.
Her stomach heaved as she excused herself to the laird. Married. Jesus wept, but she was married. She was expected to submit to her husband. To obey him.
Her hands shook as she followed Mairin toward the stairs. They walked quietly up, one of Ewan’s men tagging along behind, but then Mairin went nowhere without an escort.
Merciful heaven, would she be expected to be led about by the reins now that she was married to Caelen? The idea of being unable to go anywhere or do anything without someone breathing down her neck suffocated her.
At Keeley’s door, Mairin knocked softly. Alaric answered, and Mairin spoke in low tones with her brother by marriage.
Alaric nodded and stepped out but then said, “Try not to be overlong. She tires easily.”
Rionna glanced at the man who would have been her husband and couldn’t help a silent comparison between him and his younger brother. The man she now found herself wed to.
There was no doubt both were fierce warriors, but she still couldn’t help but feel she would have preferred marriage to Alaric. He didn’t seem as … cold … as Caelen. Or indifferent. Or … something.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something in Caelen’s eyes that unsettled her, that made her wary, like prey poised to flee a predator. He made her feel tiny, defenseless. Feminine.
“Rionna,” Alaric said with a nod. “Congratulations on your marriage.”
There was still a hint of guilt in his eyes, and truly, she wasn’t resentful. Not of why he hadn’t married her. His falling in love with Keeley hadn’t quite managed to banish her humiliation of being jilted, though. She was working on it.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
She waited until Alaric passed her and then she entered Keeley’s chamber.
Keeley lay propped on an abundance of pillows. She was pale and lines of fatigue etched grooves on her forehead. Still, she smiled weakly when her gaze met Rionna’s.