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.
“Make a path for Vanora.”
The women tending her parted, and the old midwife crossed the floor toward her. Jemma tried to remain poised, but it felt impossible to remain still. She wanted to cover her breasts with her arms, but forced them to remain at her sides. She mustn’t act as though she had anything to hide. Gossip was a vicious thing, and brides suffered from it more than others. If she refused to have the midwife inspect the entire chamber to her satisfaction, there might be talk that Jemma had hidden chicken’s blood somewhere to stain the sheets.
The midwife stopped in front of her, and the chamber went silent. The women behind her lifted her hair to show there was nothing hidden. Jemma forced her hands to open wide, her fingers spreading for Vanora’s gaze. It took every bit of nerve she had to remain still, but every wife in the room had tolerated the same on their wedding night, so she stood steady. She would not cringe like the pampered Englishwoman many of them called her behind her back. She would show them courage.
Vanora took a linen square from a nearby table and ran it up the inside of her thigh, across her sex and down the opposite side before pulling it back to look at and confirm that she was not having her monthly flow. Several woman stood on their toes to see the surface of that fabric. One of them was Ula. Jemma felt her cheeks sting because her blush was so hot, but she waited for the midwife to send her to bed.
Vanora nodded. “I am well satisfied. There will be no talk or ye shall answer to me in front of a priest.” The midwife turned to point a finger toward some of the laundresses who were standing in the back of the chamber. They were not helping at all, but there to watch with suspicious eyes. “Mind me well, for I am not so convinced that mercy is the way to instruct ye on decent behavior. Now be gone if ye have no help to offer. The mistress has tolerated far too much from ye already, but she has done so with courage. Wag yer tongues about something true for a change.”
There was a hushed silence, but a good number of the women surrounding her turned to glare at the ones standing near the walls. The laundresses did not hold up well. They hurried out, pushing on one another to escape.
That did not leave her alone. The chamber was still full of nearly thirty women, but the mood changed. They smiled and led her toward the bed.
“Come now, before the men show up with the laird.”
Someone had strewn late autumn herbs across the sheets. There were no flowers, but the sweet scent of heather and peppermint filled the air. Ula pulled up the covers to protect her modesty, and not any too soon. They heard the men escorting her groom from several floors below. They were trying to sing a bawdy tune but kept losing the rhythm because they were laughing too hard.
No one truly knocked on the doors, they ran into them, making a racket while trying to sing out the next line of
