The Highlander's Time

placed on his right for the remainder of their journey. “I wasn't next to the wall.”
    Charlzie must have come to the same conclusion. “Thanks,” she said to the young warrior walking her down the stairs. “Note to self, watch your step.”
    Jenny quelled her giggle at Charlzie's pathetic attempt at humor. A new and terrifying shift occurred next. The warriors bowed to her. She peeked at Iaen for a prompt. His almost indiscernible ascent of his head gave her the answer. “Note to self, when in doubt, nod.”
    “Gotcha,” Charlzie whispered.
    Escorted onto the low platform, Jenny frowned when a young boy of perhaps eight or nine rushed forward to pull out a chair. She couldn't help but grin at him. He reminded her of Meg, youthful energy practically oozed from his every pore. “Thank you.”
    Iaen cleared his throat.
    “Sorry.” Jenny felt her blush heat her cheeks. By the time Father Thomas joined them, she thought her face might crack from all the smiling she was doing. “What’s going on?”
    “He hasn't told you?” Father Thomas looked as if he'd just swallowed a whole jug of vinegar. “Milord, when you said....” He clamped his lips shut when Iaen threw a glare in his direction.
    Jenny watched the silent exchange. “Can't we all just get along?”
    Iaen said something in Gaelic that caused the crowd of warriors to break into a raucous cheer.
    Not knowing whether or not to fear for her life, Jenny took a small step back. Iaen gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Would someone please tell me what the heck is going on?”
    Finally taking her seat on Iaen's left, she gripped the arms of the chair until they ached. “This isn't that difficult. You speak,” she was about to point an accusing finger to Iaen when he grabbed her arm and laid a kiss to her wrist.
    Again, the crowd roared.
    “Father?”
    “In a minute, milady.”
    With no recourse but to sit there and wait for Iaen to get on with it or the floor to open up, which at the rate he was going was a possibility, she relaxed her death grip on the chair arms as Iaen poured a goblet of wine. She shook her head when he handed it to her. “I don't drink. Well, not that much,” she amended.
    “Take a sip,” he prodded her.
    Playing along, Jenny took a tiny taste. “That's quite good.” She gave the heavy silver goblet back to him. Stunned, she bit her lip to keep from laughing while he drained the contents. She was about to make another 'note to self' joke but was distracted when Iaen slammed the goblet down on the table.
    The world stood still as he cradled her head in his hand. She'd been kissed by him before, but never like this. It was a slow exploration of her mouth. Damn, if she didn't feel as if she'd been stamped with a mark plainly telling everybody she was his territory.
    She hated to admit it, but she was beyond starting to like how he kissed her.
    “Congratulations, milady,” Father Thomas said.
    Staring deep into Iaen’s luxurious blue gaze, a gaze she could lose her soul in, Jenny shook herself out of her stupor. “I'm sorry, Father, what did you say?”
    “Congratulations on your marriage.” He clapped his hands together.
    “My what?”
    “You did agree,” Iaen informed her.
    “Well, yeah, I agreed last night before we...I mean...oh, you know what I mean.” Giving herself a mental kick and forgetting the wedding scene from Brigadoon , Jenny didn't know if she should clobber Iaen over the head with the goblet or laugh at her own naivety. Granted, he'd struck when she was most vulnerable, but she wasn't some brainless bimbo. Hell, she knew what she was walking into even if she hadn't figured it out at the time. Leaning against him, she smiled at him. “You tricked me.”
    “Aye.”
    “I don't know how to curtsy.”
    Father Thomas translated her statement of fact.
    “You think I care?” Iaen challenged her.
    He said something to Father Thomas. Jenny thought the priest might die from mortification. “What?”
    “Milord wishes you to learn his language afore he needs to request my presence in his bedchamber. Milady, that will not happen unless I am delivering the Last Rites. You have my word.”
    “Don't worry, Father, but if you could tell my sly husband something for me.” She waited for Father Thomas to agree. “Tell him, he doesn't need a translator in the bedroom. I understand him just fine when it comes to what happens there.”
    She regretted putting Thomas on the spot, but he did as she asked.
    Iaen