Isalyn smiled faintly. “I would be happy to wear a dress you gave me for our wedding,” she said. “Truly, Tor, I would be honored. It is very thoughtful of you.”
“You need not buy her anything,” Gilbert said, spoiling the sweet moment. “My stall is in Carlisle. We shall go there and you can pick anything you wish, and it will not cost you a pence. I have several dresses for sale, made by seamstresses to sell to women who like to do the final sewing on them. They are very popular because most of the work is already done. They just need to be finished to the size of the woman who wears them.”
Tor looked at him. “Let me be plain,” he said. “Whatever I select, I shall pay for. To take it from you without cost defeats the purpose. I must buy it.”
Gilbert didn’t really understand the need, but he didn’t argue with him. “As you wish.”
“Do you have rings also?”
“Many.”
That made up Tor’s mind. “Then it is decided,” he said. “We shall go on the morrow.”
Gilbert was so happy that he was nearly bursting with it. “Excellent,” he said. “Let us celebrate with some of your good wine. We must send word to your father immediately. I am to be related to the House of de Wolfe!”
He was already through the door, rattling off all of the missives he needed to send. Tor grinned at the man, who was quite literally skipping from the building, before turning to Isalyn. She was laughing at her father, hand over her mouth.
“You would think he was marrying into the family,” she said. “I swear to you that I have never seen him so excited.”
Tor snorted. “Wait until you see my father,” he said. “He may give your father competition for who can be the happiest about this marriage.”
“I am looking forward to it.”
Tor’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before taking a few steps and ending up standing next to her. Reaching out, he took her hand, a touch that sent bolts of excitement through his body. It was quite amazing to him because he never truly thought he would feel like this ever again. Life, once again, was thrilling and for the first time in a very long while, he was looking forward to the future.
He felt as if he were awakening from a very long and very dark slumber.
“As am I,” he said, his voice low and hoarse as he lifted her hand and kissed it sweetly. “I am looking forward to all of it. This day has turned out to be quite remarkable. When I awoke this morning, I did not imagine I would have a bride by nightfall.”
The kiss to her hand wasn’t enough. One moment, he was holding her hand and in the next, he was holding her. It happened so fast. She was in his arms and nothing in the world had ever felt so right or so true. She was soft and supple, her body against his, and he slanted his lips over hers.
He could feel her tremble.
It wasn’t a lusty kiss, not at first. He simply wanted to taste her. But she was collapsing against him, her flesh quivering in his embrace, and his kiss turned hungry. It had been close to seventeen years since he’d last kissed a woman, close to seventeen years since his body had known the pleasure of the female form, and that need inside of him came roaring back to life.
Time stood still as he feasted on her lips, feeling her arms wrap around his neck, smelling her sweet scent in his nostrils. The kiss had been as unexpected as the betrothal itself, and he forced to himself to release her before he lost control completely. As he loosened his grip, she very nearly fell to her knees.
Tor grabbed her.
“Are you well?” he asked.
She grinned, mortified and lightheaded. “Of course,” she said. “I… I just need to catch my breath.”
He smiled at her. “So do I.”
She laughed softly. “You are at least on your feet,” she said. “I think the last time I was in your arms was when you saved me from that wild horse. It was a different situation.”
“Aye, quite.”
“I like this one better.”
“So do I.”
They smiled at each other for a moment and Isalyn reached up, wiping away the saliva from his bottom lip. Her heart was thumping so hard that she could hear it in her ears.
“It has been a momentous day, to be sure,” she murmured, her hand on his face. “A long ride this morning led me to Blackpool where I have fallen from a window, covered myself in mud, fought with harpies, and found a husband all in one day.”
Tor laughed softly, kissing the hand on his cheek before lowering it. But he didn’t let it go. “And the day is not over yet,” he said. “Imagine what we will discover by the end of the evening.”
“I am waiting with anticipation.”
His smile faded. “Your mention of harpies has reminded me that I must tell you why Isabella summoned me earlier,” he said. “We had an ill traveler at the gatehouse and I turned him over to Barbara and Lenore to tend. In order to accomplish this, they must be allowed to move about freely, but I have warned them. If they so much as look at you in a manner you do not like, you will tell me. I have threatened them with the vault for the slightest infraction, so they should be on their best behaviors. You will see them moving about Blackpool, so I wanted you to know.”
That wasn’t something Isalyn wanted to hear, but she understood. “Not to worry,” she said. “I can take care of myself, but Isabella… she turned against them and I am certain they did not take kindly to that.”
Tor squeezed her hand. “Bella has her father and brother here,” he said. “They wouldn’t dare make a move against her with those two about. But you are sweet to worry about her.”
“She is a sweet lass,” she said. “I like her very much. I have apologized to her for what my brother did… I cannot imagine him jilting a lady as sweet as Isabella.”
“Truthfully, she does not seem all that torn up about it,” he said. “We all thought she was quite devastated when your brother left her, but she does not seem that way at all.”
They were heading from the chamber and Isalyn tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They had started off as acquaintances, perhaps became fast friends, and now their relationship was progressing naturally, if not quickly. Isalyn had never felt anything more natural or normal than she did when her arm was in his.
As if they had always belonged together.
“Isabella has a good head on her shoulders,” Isalyn said. “She is young, but she has a maturity beyond her years. She told me that she was devastated when Steffan left her but that her grandmother told her that he wasn’t worth weeping over. Any honorable man worth his weight would not have left her at all.”
Tor took her out into the corridor, heading for the open entry door. “That would be my grandmother, Jordan,” he said. “We all call her Matha, meaning ‘mother’ in Gaelic. She is our rock. All of these big, powerful sons and grandsons, and she is our foundation. A stronger, wiser woman you will never meet.”
“Another de Wolfe family member I am looking forward to meeting.”
“I am anxious to introduce you,” he said. “But until that time, I believe your father expects us to celebrate with him. I had better tell my Uncle Blayth personally of our betrothal. He would not forgive me if he heard it from someone else.”