My Highland Home

MHH Chapter 13

Deep male laughter was what brought me around. It seemed to be coming at me from everywhere. Fluttering my eyes open, I expected the disoriented feeling when I didn't immediately recognize my surroundings. Shifting my weight, I nearly groaned as my hip dug more painfully into hard unforgiving wood. Instead, I felt the sensation of eyes on me and glanced to my right. My groom was laughing and for a moment I wondered about his mental state, as it appeared that we were the only two people in the vicinity. He could be laughing at me, I thought with a scowl. Unhappy with the idea, I snapped, "What's so funny?"

I was pleased that the question seemed to kill his laughter; however I was annoyed a moment later when he seemingly ignored my question. Apparently, I thought, this was going to be an ongoing trend with him. Sigh, I was certain that would grow old in a hurry.

"Are you alright wife?"

He seemed sincerely concerned about my well-being, while reminding me at the same time that I hadn't just dreamed my nuptials. Husband, I tested the word in my mind as I studied him speculatively. It felt bizarre. I knew that it wasn't unheard of for girls my age to get married, but usually there was a reason for it, like teenage pregnancy. And while I knew that in the eighteenth century, girls my age were considered women and many of them had already been married several years and had begun families of their own, it was still a pretty hard reality to swallow. The enormity of what I'd done was just beginning to settle in. I still wasn't sure I was ready to deal with the logistics of exactly how I'd traveled two hundred some years into the past, so I pushed that aside to mull over later.

Remembering that I'd been asked a question, I slowly sat up and discovered myself sitting in the first pew of the chapel. I nodded that I was alright. His pale blue gaze ran over me. Earlier I hadn't had much luck miming writing to Meg, but I had a lot of questions and I was fast loosing patience with my pitiful sounding voice. So again, this time to my, gulp, husband I mimed writing. One of his dark brows rose and he seemed to consider me for a long moment before he finally came to a decision.

"You want to write?" I nodded. He frowned.

"I'll not have a missive delivered to your father." So don't waste your time, Colin's expression told me and I shook my head negatively.

"To whom do you write then?" It was a question with more than a hint of demand in it. I rolled my eyes. He growled and the sound vibrated through the chapel. I blew out an aggravated breath and lifted my right hand to point at him. I don't know what he was thinking about, but at my gesture he appeared to be a bit shocked, but it was momentary and he recovered himself quickly. He glanced around.

With a shrug, he told me, "There's nothing suitable hereabouts. You'll have to wait until later."

I frowned. That was not the answer I wanted to hear. One corner of my mouth turned down into a pout, but he seemed impervious and instead helped me to my feet. Resting my hand in the crook of his arm, he slowly led me back down the aisle and out of the chapel. As we stepped back into the bright sunny morning, four little redheaded girls giggled and showered us with flower petals before picking up their skirts and still laughing, ran quickly out of sight.

"So my wife does now how to smile."