from our marriages? I came here believing that Connor would murder me the way he murdered his first wife. You came here, forced to marry a man who knew you’d deceived him and everyone else.’
Marian laughed. ‘Only Rurik and Margriet’s match must have been less trying.’
‘Do not be so certain of that. Our Rurik with the way he loves women and a woman who grew up in a convent? I am certain there were some rocks on that path.’
It did calm her worries when she thought of it that way. At least James and Ciara liked each other at the beginning of their marriage. Love could grow later.
It could.
James took her hand as they walked from the church and she decided to focus on all the things she liked about him as they strolled in the privacy of the forest for this ‘talk’.
She liked the way he entwined their fingers as he held her hand. She liked the way he did not seem threatened by her behaviour and encouraged her opinion on matters at hand. She liked the sound of his voice as he spoke.
There. All good things on which to build.
They stopped and he pulled her into his arms, tilted down and kissed her without any warning. He glided his lips over hers, pressing until she opened—as Tavis had—and then moved his tongue into her mouth. Trying to participate more, remembering his comment about her previous one, she slid her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his, the way it had done on its own during the kisses with Tavis.
James seemed to like it, wrapping his arm around her waist and holding her close. But his mouth just remained there, not doing anything that engendered those hot passions to run in her blood.
Just when she thought he would bring it to an end, he slid his other hand up and skimmed over her breast. Once he found it, he cupped her, rubbing there several times. He lifted his head then and whispered to her, ‘You are an innocent.’
Ciara knew the touch was scandalous, one that should not be permitted before their marriage bed, but it did not feel scandalous to her. It did not urge her to want more. It did not heat her blood as a simple kiss from Tavis did.
‘Is that a bad thing, then?’ she asked.
‘Nay! A man likes to know he will be the first with his wife,’ James explained. He stepped back and stared at her. ‘If I might use some of that candour of yours?’ She nodded. ‘From what I’d been told, about those rumours …’ he hesitated for a moment before pushing on ‘… I did not expect a virgin bride and had accommodated myself to that notion.’
Ciara blinked at him several times as she listened. ‘And you were willing to accept that?’
‘Aye, for the many reasons that we both know about, I would have.’ James looked at her. ‘There was one that gave me some hope. All the stories spoke of your mother’s past; none of that behaviour ever was rumoured after she married Duncan. So, if your mother could be faithful, I expect that you can, too.’
Stunned by these revelations, she just shook her head and laughed, now knowing the truth of her mother’s ‘past’. He’d considered her less than virtuous and was willing to accept her.
That damned dowry! Founded on nothing less than blood money and determined to shape her life and marriage.
‘Did you like that?’ he asked, glancing at her breast.
‘Aye, it was nice,’ she answered. It did not stir her to excess or make her want to lie down with him, but mayhap it would if there was more? ‘Would you …?’ She glanced down and then met his gaze.
James stepped in close and kissed her mouth again. He held her close and then began kissing a path down her cheek and neck. That felt nice, too. Then he turned her slightly and placed his hand on her again, this time with more pressure and rubbing his thumb over its tip. Nice.
He was just about to kiss her mouth again when some branches and leaves crackled, alerting them that they were not alone. They lifted their heads and found Elizabeth there. Jumping back and pushing her hair away from her face, she smiled at her friend. A bit embarrassed by being discovered during such a personal moment, she was surprised by Elizabeth’s glare.
‘My pardon, Ciara and James,’ she said, not even looking at him. ‘The dressmaker is coming before this morn, so I thought I would let you know.’
‘I will be right along, Elizabeth,’ she said, smiling back.
Elizabeth seemed to want to say something else, but did not. With only a nod, she turned and left. James watched her go and then turned back to Ciara.
‘I suppose it was better that she found us than your parents.’
Ciara shook her head. ‘Certain leniencies are permitted between betrothed couples, James. I doubt my parents think that we have not shared some intimacies by now.’
He took her hand and kissed it, beginning to follow the path once more. She guessed that his attempts at intimacies were over.
‘Believe it or not, that was not why I wanted you alone, Ciara.’ He winked at her then. She liked his wink. ‘I wanted to ask you something before we stand before the priest. I do not like surprises.’
‘Oh? What do you wish to know?’ Ciara tried to think about the wedding ceremony, but she had not witnessed one yet. She’d avoided Tavis and Saraid’s those years ago and did not know all the words and prayers that would be said over and for them.
He stopped them once more and turned to face her, his blue eyes growing darker in that moment with an intensity she did not usually see there.
‘Do you have or know of any reasons why we should not marry?’
Of all the things she’d thought he’d ask, that was not one of them. Did loving another man count in his opinion?
‘I do not mean reasons about clans or allies or treaties, Ciara. I mean from you to me—are you content with this marriage between us?’
‘Content?’ What a strange word to choose. ‘Is that what you seek, then? Contentment?’
He turned from her then and took a breath. Shaking his head, he spoke. ‘Aye. I am not a man ruled by passions and do not seek a marriage caught up in the drama of those emotions. I am not a man of great courage. Our life in Perthshire will be very different from this Highland life you have lived here. I but seek your contentment in being my wife at my side.’ He looked at her then. ‘I have seen marriage ruled by passion—I have seen it before and do not wish it.’
She’d seen those marriages, too. Her parents. The laird and lady. Cousin Rurik and Margriet. All passion-filled marriages that were mostly about love. And she wanted that, too. But, clearly, and to his credit, that would not be theirs. He was not asking for her love, he was asking her to be content without it.
‘So, is there any reason you do not wish to stand before the priest two days hence and pledge our vows?’
A life of contentedness spread out before her. She looked into his eyes and found more emotions there than she’d ever seen in his gaze. And there, deep within, she thought he might be asking her for a way out of this, knowing she’d backed out of other betrothals before his.
Or
