Page 83 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
She gazed over at him, taking in his tousled dark hair, his thick brows and his straight nose, her eyes coming to rest on his generous mouth quirking in a peaceful smile. She could scarcely believe this was the same stern warrior who had been her champion ever since the terrible first occasion of their meeting.
She sighed in wonderment. It was possible to discern in his calm, even, features, the boy he once was before tragedy and heartbreak were etched on the planes of his handsome face.
Her heart jumped as his eyes flickered open and a smile lit up his face. He snaked an arm around her, rolled her over so that she was half-way beneath him, and brought his lips to hers in a purposeful kiss.
To wake with a kiss was something she’d long dreamed of. Heart thumping, she raised a hand to stroke the rough stubbleon his cheeks. She lay back among the soft goose-down pillows, sinking into his arms as he wound them around her, her body thrumming wildly with pleasure and desire at his touch.
But their bliss was rudely interrupted by a loud knocking on the chamber door.
Ewan groaned and lifted his head. “What d’ye want?” he growled.
Duncan’s voice came in response. “’Tis time ye were both abroad. Yer guests are arriving.”
“By the saints, dae they have tae arrive so early? They must have been traveling all night.” He rolled out of bed and donned his britches. Then with his night shirt over his trews he padded to the door and opened it.
Duncan, already clad in his great kilt and jacket stepped, laughing, into the chamber.
Tyra climbed out of the gigantic bed and stepped to the floor, seizing her robe and shrugging it on as she did so.
“Apologies fer disturbing ye two doves in yer love nest,” he said, indicating no sorrow at all but with a grin quirking his lips. “Our Uncle Diarmad has arrived from the north with a large retinue.” He reeled off the names. “Aunt Eilish and our cousins Freya, Callum, Niall, and Alistair, as well as several knights and two wee lads he’s fostering from other clans. And the ladies’ maid.”
“Good Lord.” Ewan leaned over the washbowl, grabbed the flannel and scrubbed it hastily across his face. Then he seized his long length of plaid and hastily transformed it into his great kilt. He donned a clean linen shirt, his stockings and boots andbuckled on the kilt. Tyra held up his jacket for him to thrust his arms into the sleeves.
“Yer hair,” she said, wielding the brush to smooth out his dark locks.
While Duncan waited, tapping his feet, Ewan swiveled, planted a warm kiss on Tyra’s lips and, with a reluctant sigh, dragged himself away.
Once the door had closed behind the two lads, she made haste to wash and ready herself. She eyed the selection of gowns hanging beside the garderobe and, wishing to look her best, chose a deep pink kirtle and underskirt in soft wool.
Today was special, for the Mackenzie clansmen and women were gathering at Eilean Donan to celebrate the marriage of their laird and to meet his new lady. Now, as the Lady of Eilean Donan she was not at all daunted by the prospect of running the great castle.
Although Scorrybreac was considerably smaller than the Mackenzie stronghold, after her mother’s death, Tyra – while hardly more than a wean – had been responsible for the day-to-day smooth running of the castle. She’d enjoyed her role. There was satisfaction in ensuring the servants were happy and loyal and the castle was well supplied with provisions that would last throughout the long winter. These were all tasks that gave her a sense of purpose and usefulness.
For days now, she’d been working with Isla and Joseph to ensure the guest chambers were cleaned and strewn with sweet-smelling herbs. The Mackenzie Clan’s lands were vast and there would be many guests – mostly distant relatives of Ewan’s – who would be travelling great distances to be here. Some had arrivedyesterday and would, no doubt, be assembling in the banqueting hall to break their fast.
Most would arrive throughout the day, and it was Ewan’s role as laird to greet them, and ensure their knights were loyal and ready to fight if that became necessary. If any of his guests brought carping disputes, he would be expected to resolve them.
There were many plans in train for the coming few days, hunting and falconing for the men and some of the ladies, while Tyra would be kept busy making sure the remaining ladies were entertained in the castle with games such as chess, drawing and playing music. Both she and Isla were looking forward to the merriment that was sure to flow from such company.
But tonight’s banquet was Tyra’s main concern. Maeve had been called to the castle and new gowns for herself and Isla had been ordered from the fabrics they’d purchased from the peddler. She wanted her husband to be proud of her as he presented her to his clan.
Once she’d washed and donned her new bonnie gown, Tyra brushed her hair, creating a long braid down her back, and made her way to the entrance to the keep. On the way, she encountered Joseph, a harried expression on his face.
“Milady, I am pleased tae see ye. A large party has just arrived.”
She grinned. It was not often that Joseph’s customary, calm demeanor was ruffled.
“I shall await them here, Joseph, if ye can make a last-minute cheek on the bedchambers and ensure the maids have prepared them all.”
He hurried off, leaving Tyra at the top of the stairs, chewing her lip at the prospect of meeting such a large party.
As it turned out, it was only Ewan’s Aunt Eilish and her daughter Freya who entered the keep. She greeted them both and escorted them to the banqueting hall to break their fast. There they were embraced by Isla.
After a quick tour of the kitchen and a word to Esmé in the infirmary in case her duties as healer were required, Tyra was ready to greet the steady stream of arriving guests.
The day passed in a whirlwind of smiling welcomes without so much as a glimpse of Ewan, until, at last, it was time to prepare for the banquet.
She was pleased to take her time bathing and dressing in her new finery, an elaborate gown of wine-colored velvet that Maeve and her seamstresses had worked on. She donned the gown, astonished by her reflection in the looking glass. Why, she looked as elegant and graceful as a Queen of Scots. Isla breezed in and helped braid her hairs.
