Trembling, she said a silent prayer that she proved worthy of him. His words left her moved and thick-tongued, so it was difficult to summon a response. But twenty pairs of expectant eyes turned in her direction so she made herself speak. "And I'm proud to be Mhairi Mackinnon, wife to the Laird of Achnasheen and the new lady of this clan."
There was a pause, then an enthusiastic cheer broke out. One niggling worry among the hundred others, large and small, vanished. She and Callum still had so much to negotiate, first of all her father's reaction to this marriage. But her fears of living in this castle as a loathed interloper proved unfounded. When she'd pledged her loyalty to the Mackinnons by marrying their laird, it seemed the clan had taken her for one of their own.
Callum pushed his way through the crowd to stand beside the bed. His hand rested on her shoulder. Once she'd have loathed such a possessive gesture. Tonight the warmth of that strong hand seeped down into her bones and settled the anxious flutter of her heart.
"Well said, mo chridhe."
This time, emotion weighted the shiver that rippled through her. Every time he called her his heart, she felt like she dissolved into a puddle of melted sugar.
"Och, this is all too solemn for a wedding," one of the men called out. He raised a frypan and began to bang on it with a wooden spoon. "Let's frighten away the imps and sprites, so good fortune smiles on our laird and his lady!"
"Good health to the Mackinnon and Bonny Mhairi!"
"Good health, long life, much happiness!"
As the chaos broke out again, Callum smiled down at her, his eyes glowing. "I couldnae keep them out. I imagined a gentler beginning to our wedding night."
She lifted her hand to cover his. "They're so happy for ye, let them show it."
"Aye, they're happy because they can see I'm happy."
Duff and a couple of the other men hauled Callum away from her. "Och, Mackinnon, you're wearing too many clothes for the work ye plan on doing tonight. You'll get nowhere with the lassie, wrapped up in all that folderol."
While most of his kinsmen kept up the ragged serenade, eager hands tugged at the Mackinnon's velvet coat and white stock. His shining black hair had been tied back for the wedding, but it soon hung loose around his sculpted features. The short ceremonial sword and jeweled dagger clattered down on top of a carved oak chest. His sporran soon joined the weapons.
When Duff tugged at the wide black belt that held up Callum’s red and black kilt, he raised his hands and stepped back. "Enough!" he said, laughing. "I can take things from here."
"Och, we're sure ye can," a sly feminine voice called out.
Renewed cacophony greeted the remark. It would be generous to call it music.
"We wish ye much joy, Mackinnon," a man shouted.
"Aye, and many braw bairns!" another man said.
Over the heads of his joyous kinsmen, Mhairi met Callum's bright black gaze, and her blush rose once again. Tonight they'd start on creating a family. They’d lie together in this bed. Callum’s strong graceful body would rise over her, and he'd push inside her. The images rocketing through her mind were alluring and terrifying in equal measure.
His smile told her he was thinking of exactly the same thing, although there was no trepidation in his gaze, just eagerness. He turned to face the crowd.
"It’s high time ye left me to get on with what I need to," he said. "Or else my bride might decide she's waited long enough."
"Och, you're worth waiting for, Callum Dubh!" a woman shouted.
"I've got ale and a barrel of whisky down in the hall for ye, not to mention a supper fit for a king."
"And a queen!" another woman shouted, banging two pots together like cymbals.
"I've paid the musicians to play all night."
"Och, are ye saying we’re no’ musicians enough?" a man asked, making the crowd guffaw and respond with another deafening clamor.
"You'll be too busy dancing to play, Bobby," Callum said over the riot.
It took a few more minutes to usher the boisterous revelers from the room. By the time they'd gone, Mhairi's ears rang with the torrent of good wishes and the clash of wood on metal.
Finally Callum, impatient with the tardy departure, physically pushed out the last of his kinsmen with laughing insistence. A few of the more intoxicated laddies shoved back into the room. Callum's whisky had already been flowing downstairs, and they’d clearly taken advantage of the laird’s largesse.
More laughing insistence and ruthless handling from Callum until they were gone. He slammed the heavy door shut and slammed the iron bolt across for good measure.