The men were close to the entrance of the keep and Caitlin could just about make out the soft burr of their voices, although the words themselves did not carry to her. At one point she noticed Rhys crane his neck up in her direction. She gasped and retreated inside, flinging herself to the shadows and pressing herself against the wall. It was said to be bad luck for a husband to see a wife before she was presented to him, and the last thing Caitlin wanted to do was curse the marriage before it had even begun. Her chest heaved as she panted, and after a few moments she twisted her body to peer out of the window, but Rhys wasn’t there any longer. The men had moved inside while the Frasier retinue set up a camp outside the walls of the keep. Caitlin would have to wait until the formal dinner later to meet Rhys properly, when she was presented to him.
Caitlin was sitting in her chambers, a bundle of nervous energy, when finally the door opened and Mark came to fetch her. She rushed up and uttered her relief at finally being allowed to join the festivities instead of forced to stay in her room like a captive.
“What is he like?” she asked in a nervous whisper. Mark just shrugged.
“Tall,” he said. Caitlin rolled her eyes. Boys could be so unhelpful.
A minstrel was playing the lute and then suddenly the music stopped. Caitlin stood outside the door of the main feasting hall with Mark by her side. Through the doors, she heard Bryn present her, and then the doors opened. There was a huge round of applause and cheering as everyone in attendance seemed delighted. Caitlin bowed her head and smiled widely as she made her way to the table in the middle of the room. The hall was lively, and there were innumerable people in attendance, but once her eyes settled on her husband-to-be, there was nobody she had eyes for than him. Relief was the overwhelming feeling she had when she saw him for the first time. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, but there was something about the angles of his face that she found pleasing.
He rose as she approached and her head tilted back, for he was impossibly tall. Her lips parted in shock as he just seemed to keep going and going, and she could easily see why people believed they were descended from giants. He took her hand. His flesh was warm and calloused, and her hand looked so small and tiny in his. He kissed the back of her hand politely.
“It’s a pleasure tae meet ye, Caitlin,” he said with a warm smile and a gleam in his eye.
“The pleasure is mine,” she replied and gave a little curtsy. She was glad to see that although the Frasiers had a reputation for being savage, Rhys was still courteous. He pulled out a chair for her and then toasted to her good health. His cheeks were ruddy and judging from the slight slurring of his words and the easy way he picked up his mug of ale, she assumed he had already had plenty to drink.
“It appears I have some catching up tae dae,” she said, and promptly took the mug from him and gulped down what was left inside. She licked her lips, ridding herself of the frothy remnants, and then arched an eyebrow. He looked shocked and then impressed.
“Ye are nae what I imagined,” Rhys said.
“I hope in a good way. I like to be unpredictable,” she said, and then offered him a smile.
The food was served: succulent meats and roasted vegetables. It was a spread like no other, and everyone tucked in with wild abandon. Caitlin and Rhys had been seated next to each other at a table and, as was common custom, barely anyone spoke to the betrothed as this was a chance for them to get to know each other publicly. So far she wasn’t quite sure what to think of Rhys. He was certainly an impressive specimen and it was impossible to not be captured by his physical appearance, but he seemed somewhat serious and taciturn. He hadn’t made a move to start the conversation, and she was worried that she hadn’t been as pleasing for him as he had been for her.
“I believe this is where we’re supposed tae get tae know each other,” she said in her soft, lilting voice. “Tell me some of the things you like and dislike.”
“Hunting,” he replied curtly. Caitlin frowned.
“And what dae ye like tae hunt?”
“Anything that can give me a challenge.”
She leaned back in her chair and studied him for a brief moment. “Yes, me tae,” she said before sipping some more ale. Rhys looked at her with shock and then scoffed.
“Ye dinnae hunt,” he said in disbelief.
“Oh aye I dae,” she said. “I dinnae ken what ye hae heard about me, but I am nae some fair maiden who likes tae sit in her chambers all day without a thing tae dae. I prefer hunting squirrels myself.”
“Squirrels?” Rhys chuckled and looked as though he was about to scoff again. “Why would ye like tae hunt squirrels? There is nae much meat on them. Hardly as impressive as, say, a stag or a boar.”
“I know, but a squirrel is tricky. It gets its way intae different, hard tae reach places. It burrows and scurries into deep holes, or it climbs trees and uses height tae get away. Tae hunt a stag or a boar is easy. All ye need are patience and knowing when tae strike before it runs away, but it is nae difficult tae find such a beast. But a squirrel? Oh aye, ye could
