The Ghost Greyson, Maeve (reading an ebook .txt) 📖

is at an end, and it’s time to leave.” He offered her the bite of pear. “For longer celebrations, more candles are added and lit. As long as the chief’s candles burn, all are welcome to stay and enjoy the festivities.”

“But Alexander promised only one round, ye said?” She nibbled at the tidbit of fruit as though she feared it poisoned.

“Aye.” Unable to resist, Magnus reached out and caressed her cheek. “But we can retire before then. ’Tis expected of us.”

She dropped the fruit to her plate and cut a fearful glance at him. “They dinna do the—” She interrupted herself with a deep draught of wine, then held out her glass for more. A smiling maidservant appeared from behind them and filled it. After another hearty drink, she slid the goblet to the table, then stared down at it in silence.

“Dinna do what?” The high color on her cheeks had drained away. Poor lass looked as though she had just seen a headless ghost. “Shall I call Gretna over? Are ye unwell?” He feared the heat had overcome her.

“Nay.” She waved away his words but kept her gaze on her plate. “I had forgotten about the bedding ceremony,” she whispered. “I fear I am nay prepared for it.” After a hard swallow, she bowed her head lower, tucking her chin to her chest. “Father lived for weddings at his keep. He took great pleasure in helping the men strip the poor bride naked and enjoyed the consummation of the marriage as much as the groom.”

Hell’s fire. No wonder the color had drained from her. Magnus had witnessed the brutal custom once and couldn’t imagine putting Brenna through such a thing. Ever so gently, he slid a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “I would never allow such a thing. Not ever. What passes between us is no one’s affair but ours.”

“Truly?”

“I swear it.”

“Ye are the kindest man I have ever met.” Her relieved smile warmed his heart, as well as the rest of him.

A loud clanging silenced the room. Alexander rose from his seat and held his tankard high. “A toast to the newly wedded couple.” With a wry grin, he waved his glass toward Magnus. “All of us feared our brother would die alone. Somewhere in the Highlands. With no one to grieve or pray over his bones other than wild animals.” His gaze slid to Brenna, and his grin became a broad smile. “But thankfully, our prayers were answered. He found this fine woman.” He held his drink high as if it was a scepter. “May God bless ye and keep ye both in perfect peace. May He grant ye many years of happiness, as well as many sons and daughters. Slàinte mhath!”

“Slàinte mhath!” everyone roared, with so much pounding and stomping, the entire keep seemed to quake.

In answer to the toast, Magnus leaned close until his lips brushed the velvet of her cheek. “Mo chridhe, m’anam, mo chuid,” he murmured against her ear.

With a tender smile, she framed his face between her hands and kissed him long and slow.

The hall went wild with even louder cheering.

“Let us go, aye? Neither of us wishes to be here.” He held out his hand as he slid back his chair and stood.

Brenna took his hand and rose to her feet.

After a meaningful look shared with Alexander, Magnus led her from the dais and through the archway beside the long cabinet bearing all the bottles and pitchers of spirits for the evening. A glance back made him smile. The MacCoinnich guards had formed a barrier in front of the head table, one that stretched across the room, so none could follow and cause any mischief.

Just as they reached the end of the narrow hallway leading to the turret staircase of the south wing, Brenna stopped him. “Wait! I canna bear this any longer.”

Her words hit him like an icy blast of winter’s worst chill. “What?”

With a pained expression, she glanced back down the hall, then lifted her foot, fighting back the layers of silk and lace. “These shoes. Lord have mercy on my poor feet. I am miserable. ’Tis a wonder they havena crippled me. I have to be rid of them. Now.”

Magnus bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, but she spied his amusement.

“Ye think my torture funny?”

“Nay!” he lied, struggling to assume a woeful look. Best help her before she found a weapon. “Steady yerself on my shoulders whilst I relieve ye of the offensive things, aye? I’ll have them off ye in no time.” He knelt at her feet, sweeping her skirts aside and cradling her lovely ankle in one hand. His man parts took particular interest in the feel of her leg encased in her stockings, making it necessary to adjust his crouch to allow more room for his rising cock.

“Hold still afore ye knock me to the floor!” She clutched at his shoulders. “Forgive me. I didna mean to speak so harsh. Just hurry. I beg ye. Undo those terrible ribbons, pry them off, and I’ll leave the infernal things on the steps for Catriona.” She patted his back. “I didna mean to scold, but ye might as well know, ye didna marry a woman used to such trappings. Saints alive, I canna understand how she bears these fool things.”

Magnus squinted, trying to decipher the dark ribbon’s knot hidden in the shadows of her skirts and the poorly lit hall. Brenna’s foot had swelled around the ties until they cut into her flesh. “No wonder ye’re hurting. These look to be about three sizes too small.”

“Just get them off me. Please.” She sagged forward, resting her brow on his shoulder as he struggled with the embedded knot. “Catriona thought they would be fine. I didna have the heart to tell her my feet are big as a pair of war shields.”

“This is madness,” he said through gritted teeth. Wrapping an arm around her legs, he draped her over his shoulder