Ian rolled with her until she lay sprawled on top of him. His heart thumped wildly in her ear, and his hand shook as he brushed the hair back from her face.
“We are one,” he said. “We always will be.”
The gray light of dawn was coming through the narrow window when she awoke. Ian lay behind her, his arms wrapped about her and one hand cupping her breast. She snuggled closer and felt his shaft press against her. When she turned in his arms to face him, he traced her skin with his fingers and kissed her with a tenderness that squeezed her heart.
“This time, I’m determined to make love to ye slowly,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “and you’re going to let me have my way.”
“I will,” she said, smiling back at him.
Ian sat up and took her hand. “I have something I want to ask ye first.”
The seriousness of his expression sent a frisson of anxiety through her. She sat up cross-legged to face him and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. “Aye, what is it?”
Ian licked his lips. She’d never seen Ian look nervous before in her life, and it put her on edge to see it now.
“What I want to ask ye is, would ye like to do it over again?” he said. “Get married, I mean. With friends and neighbors coming to wish us well, a big feast, music and dancing.”
Sìleas was too stunned to speak.
“I’d like to do it right this time,” he said.
Tears stung at the back of her eyes. Her voice came out as a whisper. “Ye mean it?”
“I do,” he said, his eyes soft on hers. “When I give ye my vows before all our friends and neighbors, they will know I give them freely and that I mean to keep them.”
She had tried not to let what others said hurt her, but in an island clan where everyone knew everyone else’s business, it had been hard. Ian had found a way to restore her pride by honoring her before their clan.
“Murdoc said that wasn’t a real priest who wed us that day,” she said.
“Ach, I should have guessed my uncle would do that. Then we’ll ask Father Brian to bless our marriage.” Ian lifted her chin with his finger. “I want ye looking your loveliest in a fine gown, and every man eating his heart out because ye are mine.”
Sìleas thought of the ill-fitting red gown that sagged at her bosom and made her skin look blotchy and her hair orange.
“I’ll wear a gown of blue, the color of my true love’s eyes,” she said, letting a slow smile spread across her face. “It will be so gorgeous that the women will talk of nothing else for weeks.”
“Ye will do it then?” Ian asked. “Marry me again?”
Sìleas threw her arms around his neck. “I’d marry ye a thousand times over, Ian MacDonald.”
Ian held her tight against him.
“When I was a lad, Teàrlag predicted I would wed twice,” he said with a laugh in his voice. “Teàrlag could have saved me a good deal of trouble if she’d told me it would be to the same woman both times.”
Sìleas looked up at him from under her lashes. “So which wife is it that ye intend to make love to slowly?”
“It will have to be you,mo chroí,” Ian said, as he kissed her below her ear and eased her back on the bed, “and you again.”
CHAPTER 43
Sìleas and Beitris greeted the last group of women as they entered the gatehouse of Knock Castle. The women cooed and clucked as they surveyed the presents that were laid out for that very purpose.
“Ach, the stitching on that pillow is lovely, Margaret,” one woman said to another.
“But not as useful a gift for a bride as the fine iron pot ye gave her,” her friend replied.
It was only three days since Connor was made chieftain, so the women had barely had time to prepare their gifts. But after Sìleas’s long wait for a real wedding celebration, none of them was complaining. Despite the mild smell of charred wood that lingered in the air, Sìleas was glad now that Ian had insisted they not wait until the keep was livable to have their wedding.
Once the women had finished viewing the gifts and complimenting each other, Beitris called out, “Time for the washing of the bride’s feet!”