Either way, she’d have to be sure to thank Cook on the morrow for his efforts. The poor man, along with his workers, had been rousted from sleep and pressed into service, although that hadn’t been her intention when she and Alick had gone in search of food. Actually, she supposed she’d have to make sure she thanked everyone else too: Edmund for his assistance with the horses and her latest addition of injured animals, as well as the maids who had prepared the rooms her Buchanan cousins had been using so that the MacKays could use them this night, those servants who had heated the water and prepared her bath, the kitchen staff . . . Even Father Cameron, who had probably been dragged from his bed to perform the ceremony. The people of MacFarlane had all put in extra effort this day, and should be thanked for those efforts.
She’d also probably have to apologize to her brother and sisters for their not being disturbed. As far as she could tell, they were the only inhabitants of MacFarlane who had been allowed to sleep through her return home and her wedding, and she was quite sure they would be upset that they hadn’t been there for that.
A faint smile curved her lips at the contrariness of the situation, that the people who had been forced to wake and work would probably have rather slept, while her siblings, who had been left sleeping, would probably resent not being woken. She shook her head at the situation without thinking, and then stilled when Squeak chittered at her unhappily for the movement. But when the stoat kit climbed up her chest to try to burrow between her breasts in the hopes of finding his usual sleeping spot, she scooped him into her hand and sat up on the bed. He began to squeak and chitter at her at once, but Claray ignored that and got up to cross to the table where the food and drink waited.
Much to her surprise she saw that Mavis had brought a bowl of milk for the small creature. The realization made her smile and she set Squeak down next to it. The stoat continued to chitter at her briefly in a most irate manner, which began to sound a bit less vociferous as his nose began to twitch, and then ended altogether as he turned toward the bowl she’d set him next to. Giving up his complaints then he moved to the bowl to begin lapping up the milk. Chuckling softly, Claray left him to it and went to where Mavis had laid out a fresh gown and shift for the morning. She left the gown, but pulled on the shift.
Feeling a little less exposed now that she was no longer nude, Claray then returned to the table and settled in one of the chairs to consider the offerings. Aside from the bowl of milk, there was bread, cheese, fruit, fish poached in wine and herbs and some cold roasted chicken, probably left over from dinner. The chicken was undoubtedly for Conall, she knew. The fish though had probably been freshly cooked for her, which meant she really mustn’t forget to thank Cook. While he grumbled and complained about her refusal to eat meat, he still troubled himself to cook special for her. He needn’t have bothered. She had not expected him to and would have been happy to make do with just the cheese, bread and fruit, but dear God, the fish smelled good. Tasted good too, she acknowledged moments later as she started gobbling down the food.
Once done eating, Claray scooped up Squeak and walked back to the bed to look down at Conall. He was showing no signs of stirring though, so she considered her options. There didn’t appear to be a lot of them. There was really no reason to leave the room. From the sounds of it, or more importantly the lack of sound coming from the castle outside her door, everyone had retired and she didn’t want to disturb anyone. As for inside her room, the fire was starting to burn low, and would soon be out, leaving her in darkness. Besides, she had things to do in the morning, several people to thank and talk to, Lovey to check on, etc. So, while she wasn’t tired, trying to sleep seemed a good idea.
Moving around to the opposite side of the bed, Claray sat down, set Squeak on the corner where he’d be out of the way and then drew the furs up to cover both herself and Conall as she lay down next to him. Then she lay there, watching the shadows dance across the ceiling as she waited for sleep to claim her. The fire went out long before that happened.
Chapter 13
It seemed to Claray like she’d barely finally drifted off to sleep when pounding at the door startled her back awake.
Sitting bolt upright in bed, she stared blankly at the wooden panel and then glanced to Conall as he grumbled and rolled toward her, flinging an arm out in her direction that surely would have landed on her chest if she’d still been lying down. Since she wasn’t, it didn’t, but landed on the empty space behind her instead.
Shaking her head, she slid out of bed and hurried around it to reach the door before whoever was pounding at it could knock again and wake him up. Poor Conall had missed out on a lot of sleep to save her and, in her opinion, deserved his rest. So she was less than pleased to pull the door open and find her father, Ross MacKay, cousin Aulay and Father Cameron in the doorway.
“Me husband is sleeping,” she told them with a small frown. Knowing they were there for the bed linens, something else her mother had explained to her, Claray was about to suggest they return at a more decent hour when a heavy plaid was suddenly draped over her shoulders. Even as she glanced down with bewilderment at the heavy cloth, it was wrapped around her body to cover her, and she was scooped off her feet and carried out of the way.
“Mind the stoat,” Conall warned, his voice rough with sleep as he carried her to the table and set her down in one of the chairs. He then straightened and turned to watch the proceedings, hands propped on his hips. It left Claray staring at his bare arse. She blinked at it several times as she listened to the men tromp into the room, and then Conall turned slightly and she saw his very large, very erect penis waving about. It had dried blood on it. Hers, she realized with dismay.
Flushing with embarrassment, Claray launched out of the seat, dragging the plaid off as she did, and immediately wrapped it around her husband’s waist instead.
“Wife,” Conall protested on a laugh as she tried to tuck the material into the waist to keep it in place.
Claray froze at the title. Lifting startled eyes to his face, she breathed with realization, “I am.”
“What?” he asked, concern claiming his expression now.
“Yer wife,” she said weakly, and had to wonder that she still didn’t feel any different. She was married and had been bedded. Her innocence was gone, but she didn’t feel any different than she had the day before, or the day before that. When was she supposed to start feeling different?
“Aye, yer me wife,” Conall agreed, dragging out the words and looking even more concerned. Truthfully, he was eyeing her a little warily now, as if he thought there may be something wrong with her. “Did ye hit yer head while ye were bathing last night or something, lass?”
Understanding the suggestion that she was addled, Claray narrowed her eyes on the big lummox, and then gave a start and whirled to face the men when her father said, “There ’tis. Are one and all satisfied the marriage was consummated?”
Father Cameron and the others grunted and nodded as they stared at the sheet with the watery-looking bloodstain on it, and then Claray was distracted by Conall wrapping the plaid around her again. She immediately lifted her hands to remove it once more and cover him up instead, but this time he held it in place with his hands in front of her, pressing her back against his front to manage the feat. Since that meant he was presently covered, if only by her, she let her hands drop rather than wrestle with him and forced a smile when the men turned their attention to her and Conall.