It irked Rionna that she first looked to her new husband only to catch his nod of permission. She gritted her teeth and moved to the table to sit beside Mairin. Already she was acting like a docile nitwit and she hadn’t been married five minutes.

But in truth, Caelen frightened her. Alaric hadn’t. Even Ewan didn’t intimidate her. Caelen scared her witless.

Rionna slid into the chair beside Mairin, hoping for a brief reprieve before Caelen joined her. She wasn’t so fortunate. Her husband pulled out the chair next to her and scooted to the table, his leg so close to hers that it pressed to the whole of her thigh.

Deciding it would be rude—and obvious—were she to slide toward Mairin, she decided instead to ignore him. She couldn’t forget that it was acceptable for him to be so familiar now. They were wed.

She sucked in her breath as the realization hit her that he would of course exert his marital rights. Indeed, there was the whole wedding night, virginal deflowering. All the things women tittered about behind their hands when the men weren’t around.

The problem was that Rionna was always with the men and she’d never tittered in her life. Keeley had been separated from her at a young age, long before Rionna had grown curious over such matters.

With a lecher for a father and Rionna’s constant fear for Keeley, the mere thought of coupling nauseated her. Now she had a husband who’d expect … Well, he’d expect certain things, and God help her, she had no idea what.

Humiliation tightened her cheeks. She could ask Mairin. Or one of the McCabe women. They were all generous to a fault and they’d all been kind to Rionna. But the idea of having to admit to them all just how ignorant she was of such matters made her want to hide under the table.

She could wield a sword better than most men. She could fight. And she was fast. She could be ruthless when provoked. She didn’t suffer a gentle constitution nor did she faint at the sight of blood.

But she didn’t know the way of kissing.

“Are you going to eat?” Caelen asked.

She looked up to see that the places had been set and the food was on the table. Caelen had thoughtfully cut a choice piece of meat and placed it on her plate.

“Aye,” she whispered.

’Twas the truth, she was fair to starving.

“Would you like water or ale?”

’Twas also true she never partook of spirits, but somehow today ale seemed to be the wise choice.

“Ale,” she said, and waited as Caelen poured a gobletful. She reached for it but to her surprise, he put it to his mouth and first sniffed and then drank a small portion of the ale.