After he had taken my hands in his own, I could recall only two other things about the ceremony.
The first was his eyes. I had been immediately hypnotized by them. They reminded me of a black stone that used to sit in a bowl at my grandmother’s house. When I was younger, I loved to hold it up to the light and examine all the different flecks of brown and gold that danced between the swirls of darkness. His eyes were like that stone. I wanted to examine every speckle of color that had stared back at me throughout the ceremony.
The second thing I recalled was the kiss at the end of the wedding. You would think that since I was staring at his eyes so intently, I would’ve seen it coming. I didn’t.
The impact of his lips on mine startled me so much that I tried to jerk away from him on instinct, but I was prevented by his hand, which touched the smallest part of my back and pulled me close to his chest. His right hand cupped the left side of my face as he moved his lips confidently against my own.
Part of me felt I should have stopped the kiss; I was kissing a total stranger, after all. But this was my stranger, whom I’d created, and my body betrayed me as fire coursed through my core, sending heat down to the farthest ends of my fingertips and toes.
I couldn’t breathe, and I parted my mouth to try and take in a breath, but his tongue deftly slipped inside, and instead of oxygen I breathed him in instead.
Had it not been for the roar of the guests, I think the kiss would have gone on much longer, but the noise from the crowd caused the laird to jerk away. As he did so, a look of utter frustration, almost anger, crossed his face. It confused me even more than I was already. His face hardly seemed to coincide with the kiss he’d just given me.
Thinking back on the kiss caused my temperature to rise, and my cheeks flushed as the sudden warmth of the memory washed over my body. I reached to lay my fingers against my cheek, hoping to cool them, when a voice to my left caused me to jump.
“Ye look beautiful, Blaire.”
I started to correct him, but quickly remembered that my name while I was in a coma was Blaire, not Bri. Instead I turned to him as he gently lay his hand upon my thigh and smiled as sweetly as I could.
I expected a smile in return, but instead I was rewarded with the same irritated expression I had seen right after the wedding. He stared at me briefly, ice shooting from his eyes, and then stood abruptly, pulling me up with him.
“Are ye ready to retire, lass? I know ye must be tired.”
I nodded as he quickly led me away from the dancing crowd.
I tried to keep pace with his stride, but the bottom of my dress kept getting in the way and instead I stumbled along, tripping with every other step. Each time I almost hit the ground, I found myself yanked up by his quick hands. Couldn’t a girl make herself graceful in her own coma? Not that it was surprising, I didn’t have much real-life experience when it came to grace, so I was certain my brain found it hard to dream up.
There was anger in the way he gripped me, which I couldn’t understand. What could I have possibly done to upset him? This was surely not the best way to start out a marriage. Perhaps this Blaire had done something before I arrived for which I was about to receive the punishment.
He continued his relentless pace, and as I blundered along behind him I realized that this didn’t seem like something I would dream. Scottish castle, yes. Scottish wedding, yes. Gorgeous husband, yes. Angry, Scottish brute . . . not so much.
The realization frightened me, and once I knew we were far enough away from the crowd to no longer be noticed, I jerked my hand away with all the force I could muster, causing him to release his grip.
“What are you doing?” I stopped walking and shook out my hand as I glared back at him, completely forgetting to speak in a Scottish accent. I didn’t care. My wrist was hurting, and I was frightened by the look in his eyes.
I felt my back press into the stone wall of the castle behind me, and he was on me before I had a chance to protest. His hands gripped my shoulders, effectively pinning me to the wall, and his nose was but a hair’s width from my own as he growled into my face.
“What am I doing? What about ye, Blaire? Ye have been moping about this castle since ye arrived, making no secret about how much ye detest me, and now ye show up at our wedding, smiling like a wee fool! Do ye think that ye can love me out of doors and then reject me when we’re alone? I already told ye once, Blaire, I’ll do right by ye, but I won’t be toyed with, Do ye understand, lass?”
My head was pounding as I watched him rant. He was angry, but there was more than just anger in his eyes. Confusion? Frustration? I couldn’t tell.