Page 99 of Laird of Steel
But he acknowledged the truth. No matter how amazing the night had seemed, he’d been unfaithful. If Carenza found out, he would take responsibility for his actions. And if she could not forgive him for his behavior, he’d make whatever amends she demanded.
For now, however, he’d try to forget about that night. And, as he’d managed to do since Beltane, he’d avoid Merraid.
She seemed to be of the same mind. He’d scarcely seen her in a sennight. She’d kept busy, readying Carenza for the wedding.
The chaplain at long last finished the lengthy prayer.
Gellir came to his feet and gave Carenza his hand, helping her up.
She gave him a brief smile of thanks that dissolved the instant she lowered her eyes. She may as well have stepped on his heart, crushing it beneath her heel.
It was late. Merraid was exhausted.
It was one thing to make wedding preparations. Choosing a suitable gown for the bride. Selecting her jewels. Planning the feast. Laundering linens. Strewing fresh flowers among the rushes.
It was quite another to have to deal with a nervous bride-to-be.
Gellir had done everything humanly possible to let her become accustomed to the idea of marrying him. For a sennight, he’d courted her with conversation and long walks. Hawking and archery. A ride at dawn along the froth of the firth. A late night stroll to gaze at the stars. He’d been gentle. Sweet. Accommodating.
Why then was his bride still so afraid of him?
The closer it grew to the hour of the wedding, the more agitated Carenza became. She should have gone to bed hours ago. Yet she paced hastily back and forth across her chamber, making the flames flicker madly.
“I’m sorry,” the lady muttered for the hundredth time. “Ye needn’t stay.”
“I’m not leavin’, m’lady,” Merraid promised. “I said I’d get ye through this, and I meant it.”
“Ye’re a good friend,” she said with a bleak smile.
She didn’t feel like a good friend. She felt like the worst sort of betrayer.
Ever since that incredible Beltane night, she hadn’t been able to look at Lady Carenza without the bitter taste of shame filling her mouth. The least she could do was stay up with the lady until she exhausted herself with worry.
She’d offered every reassurance she could. She’d told her what a beautiful couple she and Gellir were going to make. She’d regaled the lady with glorious stories about her bridegroom’s bravery and humorous tales about his childhood. She’d raved over Carenza’s lovely and lovable nature. She’d extolled the virtues of the clan she’d be marrying into and shared what she’d heard about the magnificent Rivenloch castle.
Nothing calmed Lady Carenza. She chewed at her lip and continued to pace.
Then, all at once, a fresh possibility occurred to Merraid.
Perhaps the lady was afraid of the wedding night.
Perhaps she knew nothing about what was to occur in the marriage bed. What it would be like to make love to a man like Sir Gellir.
Merraid gulped. She knewexactlywhat it was like.
Should she share her experience? Not specifically, of course. But generally? Would that help to ease Lady Carenza’s worries?
“M’lady,” she ventured, “are ye fretful about what’s to come ’tween the sheets?”
The lady suddenly stopped pacing.
Perhaps Merraid was onto something. She continued. “Because I have a wee bit of experience.”
The lady stood frozen, facing the window.
Merraid licked her lips, unsure how to proceed. “It can be quite…pleasurable. There’s only a wee bit o’ pain at first and then…”
She paused when the lady’s shoulders began to quake. Was it from fear? Or was she weeping?
