A Proper Scottish Wife Ch. 17

"Mrs. Cameron," Frang said, offering his arm. "Can I escort you to our table?"

"Thank you, Mr. Cameron. I would love you to accompany me."

"It's all been quite sudden, hasn't it?" Frang asked.

"From learning I'm pregnant to married in two days. Very sudden indeed. You aren't regretting your decision, are you."

"Not a bit of it. Are you?"

"Nay. I'm apprehensive. You know the reason why. It's not your fault. I'm more concerned with disappointing you than I am you would intentionally harm me. You're a good man, Frang. I have every reason to believe that. It's just you're a man and I have to adjust my feelings about men now I'm married again. Especially so quickly. I had no time to prepare myself, to get used to the idea of sharing a man's bed again. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to reject you. You have no idea how much your willingness to wait means to me as I'm scared to death. But I shall do my best for you, never doubt that. I would never have agreed to the marriage if I couldn't promise you that."

"If you can promise as much, I will be happy. It will work out."

"Where did you find time to find a ring? We didn't know we'd be married until yesterday."

"It was my mother's. Stuart gave it to me this morning. Our father kept it."

"It's beautiful and unexpected. It fits well. I don't believe it even needs adjustment. Thank you for it."

They entered the great hall arm in arm and Frang led her to the head table. It was much the same as the previous night, except this time, Frang and Isobel were at the centered, honored position, Thorburn and Teárlag to their right, Ailene and Stuart to their left, Ailene right beside Isobel, where she held her hand in greeting. The Lord Mayor and his wife at the left end of the table and the priest on the far right. The food was hot and delicious; the wine and beer flowed, and all the guests were once again fed to bursting. A large cake topped off the proceedings to celebrate the nuptials. When it seemed that every belly was full and nary a morsel could pass another pair of lips, Stuart stood up.

"Attention, please. Attention!" When all eyes were upon him he said. "I don't know about the bride, but I'm fair certain the groom is chomping the bit, hoping to leave the feast soon and do what men have done since marriage began, consummate the thing to make it official, although whether or not it's official is probably the last thing on his mind." A number of people laughed. "As the Best Man, it is my job to make the toast, and never having done one before, I asked my big brother, Thorburn, for some ideas, since his toasts last night were big hits.

"He told me to bring up some funny things about the groom when he was younger, some of the girls he rejected along the way, and some bits about how he met his wife and the courting of her. Sadly, there is little I can say funny about him when he was young. As an older brother, he was a thorn in my side and seldom funny, seeming to want nothing more than to make my life miserable. Of course, as the youngest, I was a bit of brat and spoiled and took great delight in getting him into trouble, so I guess we're even in that respect.

"He has been gone for a number of years, returning somewhat recently after leaving when I was but fourteen. Ten years in France with nary a word, so I know nothing about the women he may have courted, who they were, why they weren't a match for him. I've heard he was a great lover of women as well as a gambler, but there have been no serious attachments to any woman since he returned, until Isobel. I mentioned Frang is a gambler and that is how he met his future bride. He won her in a card game. Fortunately for Frang, the man was too ignorant to recognize the quality of the woman he had and chose to wager her as a bet. I'm sure that tale's been told a time or two over many a glass of beer.

"But as funny as it may be, it's not what I want to speak about tonight. No, I've thought about marriage a lot since wedding my own sweet wife, and I've come to the conclusion that marriage is very similar to battle." Many people laughed at that and Ailene punched Stuart on the arm. He kissed her quick. "It's not what you're thinking," Stuart said. "Here's what I mean. We practice every day on the training ground, preparing for battle. We practice so we get better, training, getting ready so no matter the enemy we meet, we will prevail. Thorburn insists on it. Failing to train will lead to failure on the battlefield, so you wield your sword day in and day out, becoming the best warrior you can be.

"Now marriage is like that. You've wooed and courted the woman of your dreams, showing her the best part of yourself, learning from all your previous mistakes and finally getting her to love and trust you enough to say yes. But far too often, we don't treat our marriage like we do a potential enemy on the battlefield. We forget to practice all we've learned. We get sloppy. We neglect doing all the things we did to win our spouses hearts in the first place, and that leads to death, my friends. Just as you can die on the battlefield if you don't constantly practice, your marriage can die if you don't practice. All the things that brought you to love one another are lost and love fritters away on the wings of disuse. Therefore, you have to treat battle and marriage the same way. Practice, practice, practice. So, raise your glasses, your mugs, your goblets and drink with me. Frang, may you wield your sword every day. Slàinte."

Thorburn got it first and started laughing uproariously, Teárlag joining him moments later. Soon, others got the joke and began laughing as well, and if people didn't catch on, it was explained to them and soon all the people were laughing. Frang laughed with all the rest and Isobel didn't quite understand what all the laughter was about. It seemed quite a good speech with sage advice, but she didn't see anything particularly humorous about it. She looked first at Frang, then Ailene who was also enjoying the joke, whatever it was.

Isobel touched Ailene's arm to get her attention.

"What?" She whispered. "What's so funny? It was a good speech. Why is everyone laughing?"

Ailene whispered back, "His words had a double meaning. Men frequently like to call their man parts 'their sword'. Stuart was essentially telling Frang to fuck you every day to keep you happy. I admit, it works for me. I hope it does for you as well."

Isobel smiled, though she cringed inwardly. Every day! He would want to use her every day! Dear God, I hope not, she thought.

Thorburn yelled, "Frang, it's time to wield your sword. Take your bride upstairs and properly bed her. Don't let her come back down unless she's walking bowlegged."

The guests started chanting, "Frang, Frang, Frang" until he stood and bowed towards the guests.

"I accede to the wishes of the crowd. Come my dear. Our bed awaits." He held out his arm until she took it and they walked to the door through the crowd, the people still raucously chanting around them.

"Don't worry, love," he whispered. "I won't force you. When you're ready, I promise."

"Thank you."

Before they left the room, she turned and gave a deep curtsy to all their guests, accepting their cheers and well wishes for the good natured teasing it was meant to be, then took Frang's arm and leaned her head upon his shoulder as he led her to the start of their new life together.

******