Bride For A Knight Page 0,22

of revelers mid-hall. "Say me she doesn't look happier than any maid you've e'er seen."

And she did.

Jamie couldn't deny it.

"All the same," he said, shaking off the other's grasp, "I would that she remains that way. And I'd have a private word with her now. Somewhere away from your hall and where she may speak freely."

Alan Mor dropped back down into his laird's chair, then waved a casual hand.

"Auld and gruff I may be, but no' thoughtless. My privy solar has already been readied for you, and with all the comforts of my house."

Jamie nodded, then turned on his heel. He needed but a few long strides to reach Aveline's side. When he did, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. A privilege entirely his, but dangerous.

Just breathing in her violet scent stirred him. Feeling the softness of her skin beneath his lips proved a greater temptation than he'd expected. Or needed.

Especially now, when he wished to speak earnest words with her.

"Come," she said, twining her fingers with his and leading him from the hall, "I saw you exchange words with my father and understand you'll wish to speak with me." She looked up at him then, her sapphire eyes long-lashed and luminous. "I would speak privily with you, too. My father's solar has been prepared and awaits us."

And it did indeed, Jamie observed when, a short while later, she led him into the quiet chamber, closing the door soundly behind them.

Little more than a small, low-vaulted chamber just above Fairmaiden's great hall, the room held all the comforts Alan Mor could boast. As belowstairs, the floor rushes appeared freshly strewn and sweet smelling and the walls were recently limed, their whiteness holding nary a trace of soot from the pleasant little peat fire glowing on the hearth grate.

A settle near the door invited with finely embroidered cushions and a fur-lined coverlet, while a small table held a light repast of green cheese, cold beef slices, and honeyed almonds.

And Jamie knew without sampling, that the beckoning ewer of wine would prove as heady as any he'd e'er sampled.

Above all, it was the room's smallness that undid him. Close as it was, the tidy little chamber captured and held his bride's bewitching scent. Even the chill, damp air pouring in through the narrow window arches couldn't dispel her pleasing essence.

Her perfume swirled around him, its hint of summer sun and violets teasing his senses. Truth tell, everything about her was proving almost more an enchantment than he could bear.

Especially when she rested a hand on his arm and peered up at him with such concern that his heart skittered.

"I know what's troubling you," she said, lifting her chin. "But you've no cause to harbor such doubts."

Jamie looked at her. "Doubts?"

She nodded, sure of it. "I told you - I saw you speaking with my father. Your displeasure was plain to see."

"My displeasure had naught to - "

"Hear me out, please," she cut in, touching her fingers to his lips. "If it is my size giving you pause, be assured that just because I may look delicate doesn't mean I cannot run a household."

She peered up him, well aware at least two past suitors had rejected her because she didn't appear robust enough. And equally aware she didn't want such concerns clouding her union with James Macpherson.

But he surprised her by looking at her as if he could hardly believe his ears. Relief sluiced through her, hot and swift.

Especially when he waved aside her worries. "Sweet lady, nothing is farther from the truth," he declared, and her heart gave a lurch. "I've seen the comforts of your home and know you and your lady sister are responsible. Anyone who'd question your abilities is a fool."

Pleased as well as a bit nervous beneath the intensity of his gaze, Aveline crossed the little chamber and flicked the edge of a wall hanging. Truly exquisite, the colors were jewel-bright, the hunting scene depicted of a quality Jamie hadn't seen since leaving Eilean Creag, the isle-girt castle belonging to his first liege laird, Duncan MacKenzie.

"I stitched every thread of this tapestry," his bride revealed, the touching blend of her pride and vulnerability piercing his heart. "And the pillows piled high on the settle by the door."

"Lass, you needn't prove yourself - "

"I can read and Sorcha and I share the task of keeping Father's household accounts," she plunged on as if he hadn't spoken. "Sorcha and I have even run Fairmaiden on our