“I did not expect such, but thank you.”

One of his eyebrows arched arrogantly. “Have I given ye the impression that I do nae know how to celebrate, Jemma? Well, that is something that is going to have to change.”

His tone suggested that he was more serious than teasing. Her eyelids fluttered because it was another hint of tenderness she had no idea how to accept. He released her hand and a moment later cupped her chin to raise her face. His eyes simmered with happiness.

“I can see that it is definitely something I am going to have to work on proving to ye, for I care not for the fact that ye doubt me.”

“There has been little happiness between us.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Aye, well, it was a wee bit of an intense moment that I found ye in, Jemma.”

Another cheer went up, and Jemma turned to see that men were pushing the tables back to clear a large section of the floor. The moment they completed their task, couples flooded the area and began dancing. Several men and even some women were gathered together with their instruments to provide music for the dancers. There were handheld drums, flutes, violins, and Scottish bagpipes. They blended together in a lively offering of music that kept her toe tapping.

“Do ye play any instruments?”

“Yes . . .” Jemma stumbled over her response because she realized that Gordon was making an attempt to know her. It surprised her because she suddenly realized that she had never taken any time to attempt to talk to him, either.

“I play the mandolin. My father enjoyed the soothing sound very much.”

“Would ye play for me?”

Her lips tugged up at the corners, and she had to fight the urge to lower her lashes again.

Sweet virgin . . . she is simpering, he thought.

“If you like. Is it possible to have my things brought from Amber Hill?”

Gordon looked slightly uncomfortable for the first time. “Aye, ’tis something I should have seen to before, but I confess that I was distracted by ye too much to consider that ye had not even a clean chemise.”

“Ula brought me what I needed.”

He grimaced. “Aye, and slipped a few barbed words into me ear when she made mention of the fact.”

Jemma couldn’t resist laughing. Just a low sound of amusement that gained her a scoffing sound from Gordon.

“Do nae start laughing at me. That woman knows how to strip the flesh off a man without muttering a single word that ye might be able to take offense at.”

“I have noticed that, but that is her experience rising above our own.”

“It is that, lass, I hope ye’ll be considering that valuable.”

Jemma suffered another jolt of shock hitting her. He hoped? So the man was not going to usurp her authority when it came to the running of the house, even if he disagreed with her choices?

“I have never disrespected ye, Jemma.”

She snorted and lowered her voice. “You spanked me and took my shoes.”

He offered her a cocky smile, one that flashed his teeth at her.

“Now that was just playing, lass. I admit that placing my hand on yer bottom was quite enjoyable.”

“Playing?”

Jemma kicked him beneath the table, but her bare foot took more pain from the blow than his shin did with his knee-high boots to help protect him. He chuckled.

“Ye see? There is evidence as to what I am saying . . .” He leaned toward her and she was too curious not to do the same. There was something about the man that was far too hypnotic. “Ye like to play, too, which is why I indulge ye so often.”

Jemma pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. “You toy with me too often, sir.”

His expression turned sensuous, and his eyes filled with dark promise. “I’ve only just started, lass, but it would be a poor groom I am to take ye above stairs the moment the priest finished the blessing. Ye might think I only think of two things in life, fighting and riding.”

Jemma smiled sweetly at him. “Do you mean to say that you do think of other things?” She kept her tone innocent and honey coated, exactly as her nurse had once instructed her.

He snorted and then laughed out loud. He tipped his head back and let his amusement bounce off the ceiling. Heads turned to glance at them, and Gordon picked up his tankard and raised it toward the assembled company.

They cheered and grabbed their own mugs, everyone tipping them back to drink long and deep. Gordon slammed his mug down and pushed his chair back.

“Come, wife! I want to dance with ye so that ye are too tired to lead me on a chase around our bed tonight.”

His words gained hearty approval from those who heard him, and they were happy to repeat what they heard to those who weren’t close enough. Jemma blushed as the men all cheered on their laird and the women offered her tiny smirks.

“You are incorrigible.”

“Aye, lass, I am.”

But he still knew how to play, and that was something she realized she had missed. Amber Hill had been too structured, a necessity while her father was ill, but she couldn’t recall the last time she had danced anything but slow pavans.

Gordon pulled her into the middle of the dance floor, and the music picked up its tempo. The dancing was Gaelic with some of the younger girls rising all the way up onto their toes. They pulled their skirts up to show off the quick motions of their feet, and the men roared with approval while clapping in time with the musicians. Everyone joined in, from the young to the old. Even Ula passed by, her skirts held in her hands while she wove in and out of the men. There was flirting and boldness such as Jemma had never seen in her dancing instructions. The dances were not the orderly Italian steps she had been taught in case she went to court. They were more like the ones danced at festivals outside the walls of Amber Hill.

Gordon pulled her along, but she took to the beat of the music well, reaching down to grasp her skirts and pulling them up as the young women had done. The stone floor was smooth and cool against her bare feet.

Ula danced by and caught her hand to pull her along. The housekeeper wove and dipped through the men while women joined them, forming a long line of linked hands. The musicians played faster, and Ula pulled Jemma toward the doorways. A snarl and growl rumbled from behind her, and she turned to see Gordon being held back by his clansmen.

But it was done with a great deal of jesting. Gordon would frown, but he couldn’t maintain the harsh expression for more than a couple of seconds before his lips returned to smiling.

“Here now . . . I think he needs a bath, lads!” Kerry shouted over the noise the other men were making.

“A cold one!” someone else added.

Ula pulled her down the hallway before she heard any more. The noise coming from the hall became a blur of male excitement. But it was drowned out by the laughter of the women escorting her. They giggled and crowded around her, all the time sweeping her toward the stairs, but not the set that led to her chamber. They kept going until they entered the west tower. There they took her up the stairs, passing three floors before they pulled her into a chamber.

Without doubt, it was the laird’s chamber.

A huge space, it took up the entire area between the walls of the tower. They were on the top floor, and the ceiling was covered with arches that made for a breathtaking view. Candles cast their flickering orange and scarlet light over the rugs covering the floor. Persian ones and also thick fur ones. The chamber itself was round, with glass windows set in all the way around it with only two-foot sections of stone to interfere. Thick curtains, which undoubtedly cost a huge amount of money, hung on either side of those windows.

She didn’t get the chance to look at the room anymore. The older women clustered about her, gently unlacing her dress. They lifted her unbound hair up carefully while the silk and velvet garment was removed. The scent of rosemary touched her nose and the sweet fragrance of flowers. She could see the younger, unmarried girls pulling the heavy bed covering back to expose the sheets. They folded everything down to the foot of the bed, leaving only the creamy expanse of the bottom sheet. Vanora peered at it, reaching out to run her hand over the smooth surface before grunting with approval.

Jemma blushed and felt her limbs quiver. Nervousness assaulted her in a flurry, threatening to buckle her knees.

Vanora would be back at sunrise to look at that sheet. It was an ancient custom and one she had seen played out many times at the village that clustered around Amber Hill. When the merchant’s daughters married, the next morning there would be a stained sheet hanging from the window of the house or there would be deep disgrace for the bride and her kin.

She didn’t fear disgrace. No, the anxiety that flooded her came from the knowledge that there would be a stain on that sheet come the morning. For all the playfulness Gordon had displayed in the past couple of hours, it was passion that had led them to this night. He would have her, and his cock was no doubt hard with hunger right that very moment.

She sat down while someone brought a basin forward to wash her feet. Hushed bits of conversation drifted to her ears, but she was far too absorbed with contemplating her groom.

Cool water splashed over her toes, drawing her attention to the women eagerly preparing her for her wedding night. She’d missed out on helping brides in the past few years, and she discovered that her memories were those of a little girl, because as soon as her feet were rinsed and dried she was pulled to her feet and her chemise plucked right off her.

A soft sound of shock passed her lips. That drew more attention to her.