He laughed. “I’ve naugh’ seen this gown, for I am quite certain I would remember it very well. Very well, indeed,” he said and grinned roguishly at her décolletage. “There is no’ a more admired woman here this evening, ye may rest assured.” His gaze drifted down the entire length of her, then languidly lifted his gaze again, skimming over the curve of her hip, lingering on her bosom, and rising to her lips and then smiling in her eyes again.
His gaze was beginning to burn through her silk dress, and Mared unthinkingly lifted her hand to her neck and asked, “How have ye found the wedding?”
“’Tis bonny,” he said absently, still admiring her hair. “Weddings always are.”
“I feel rather sorry for the poor bride,” Mared sighed, fanning herself with the tip of her shawl. “Poor dear, marrying a Douglas. She’ll know nothing but vexation and stubborn pride all her days.”
“Oh, I rather think better a Douglas than a Lockhart, for a Lockhart would undermine her fortune at every opportunity with his inordinate fondness for hairy coos,” he said, and with the back of his hand, he traced a line across her collarbone.
Mared drew a steadying breath. “She must descend from shepherds, then.”
“Of course. Do ye think a Douglas would marry ought else?” he muttered as his caress drifted down her arm to her hand.
She would melt, she was certain of it, and glanced anxiously at the crowd. “No’ unless he was assured that he might dictate the very course of her life, no.”
He laughed, turned her hand over, and held it in his, palm up. “Ye obviously didna hear the priest then, or ye would be reminded that when a woman gives herself in marriage, ’tis her duty to faithfully obey her husband.”
Mared laughed gaily at that and watched him bring her hand to his lips to kiss her palm. Ahot rush of fire spread rapidly through her arm to her heart. “Rubbish,” she managed to say. “’Tis a man’s duty to honor his wife, and I should think that would imply all her customs and manners as well. But alas, I didna hear any of the ceremony, save the last wee bit, and I didna care for even that, for it was quite wrong.”
“What part? Tell me, and I shall disabuse ye of yer obvious misunderstanding,” he said with a lopsided smile and carelessly kissed the inside of her wrist.
“Very well,” she murmured, quietly sucking in her breath as his lips moved on her wrist. “Gus an dèan Diah leis a’ bhàs ar dealachadh.”
Payton smiled. “‘Until death shall separate us’? Pray tell, what fault could ye possibly find with that?” He paused to kiss the inside of her elbow. “Unless, of course, ye donna believe in vowing yer fidelity and devotion to yer husband for all yer days?”
“I believe in vowing fidelity and devotion, ye may rest assured. But I’d no’ like it to end with death. I should think the vow would swear devotion for an eternity.”
That prompted him to look up from her arm with surprise. “How very romantic of ye.” His gaze dipped to her lips. “And to think that all this time, I’ve believed ye possessed no’ even an ounce of romantic thought in that…heart,” he said, his gaze dipping to the swell of her bosom.
“Ye might very well be surprised, sir.”
“Oh? Pray, tell—I am dying of curiosity.”
“And I am dying of hunger,” she said in a moment of cowardice and pushed away from the pine. She began to walk toward the tables where the feast had been laid, pausing only briefly to glance over her shoulder to see if Payton followed.
He followed all right. Much like a lion calmly stalking his evening meal.
She smiled when he caught up to her and tucked her hand securely in the crook of his arm to escort her across the grassy lawn.
Tables had been set with enough food to feed an army, while two pigs were roasted over open pits. Payton grabbed a plate and piled game, sweetmeats, and cake onto it. Mared managed to find an entire flagon of wine—handed to her by a smiling footman who could not seem to take his eyes off her—but Payton was quickly at her side, scaring the footman away with a single look, and led Mared to a grassy spot where they could see the dancing and the wedding games.
They sat together as if they had long been lovers, watching as the bride prepared to jump over the besom broom for good luck, laughing together when a dog caught the broom in his mouth and gleefully ran with it dragging from the side of his mouth and darting just ahead of the three footmen who tried desperately to catch him.
They ate roasted fowl and bannock cakes with their fingers, nibbled on sweetmeats, and made a game of which couples would be married next. Their conversation was light, Mared’s heart even lighter. She felt, for the first time in her memory, that she was part of something and not simply standing on the outside looking in. Payton put her completely at ease, and even as a number of cousins and relatives approached the two of them sitting there, and some of them were clearly surprised to be introduced to a Lockhart, she felt oddly content to be a Lockhart in the midst of so many Douglases.