Page 37 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander (The Highland’s Lawson Sisters #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“ I t’s a beautiful day, is it nae?” Abigail noted.

On her wedding day, she noticed that even the morning light that spilled through the tall windows of her bedchamber warmed the pale stone walls.

“Indeed, it is,” Freya said as she brushed her sister’s hair.

Abigail sat in her shift, her heart thudding like a drum, as her sisters fussed over her.

Marissa laid out her wedding gown. “Ye will look like a Highland queen.”

The gown was made of soft wool, cinched at the waist, and flowing into a full skirt that swept the floor. Tiny pearls lined the neckline, delicate as dew on heather.

Freya braided Abigail’s hair down her back, the strands thick and glossy.

Marissa laid a tartan sash on the bed which will be pinned to the dress later.

“It is ready,” she said. “Are ye?”

“Aye, I am,” Abigail replied.

Abigail felt the sisterly love wash over her as they helped her into her wedding gown. She had dreamed of a moment like this, but she didn’t think it would ever become reality.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, her breath catching at the sight. She hardly recognized the woman staring back at her—elegant, radiant, and trembling with joy and nerves.

“He’ll faint when he sees ye,” Freya teased, wiping a tear of joy from her cheek.

Abigail smiled softly, her fingers grazing the pearls at the neckline.

Freya smoothed the skirts of her gown, then stepped back to admire her.

Abigail tried to quell the fluttering in her chest, but it was no use. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for Freya. “I am glad to have ye here with me. To finally have yer blessing.”

“Once I saw the way he leapt from his horse to get to ye,” Marissa said softly, a wistful smile on her lips, “I kenned he’d do anything for ye, Abby. His wound was bleeding, and he didnae care for it, only for yer safety. That kind of love is rare. That was enough for me to give ye me blessing.”

Abigail looked down, blinking back sudden tears. “He’s the best man I’ve ever known,” she whispered. “Stronger than he lets on, kind when he doesnae have to be. I didnae ken what love truly was until he showed me.”

Freya squeezed her hands, her grin wide and proud. “I’ve seen how he looks at ye, like ye’re the sun risin’ just for him. Ye love him just as fiercely, and together, ye’ll lead a strong and prosperous clan. The whole Highlands will feel it.”

Abigail stood up and pulled her sisters close, wrapping her arms around them as tears slid down her cheeks.

“Havin’ the two of ye by me side… yer blessing means everything to me. I couldnae have walked into this new life without it.” She sniffled and laughed all at once. “I love ye both more than words could say.”

Just then, the door burst open, and Ayla rushed in, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. In her hands was a small bouquet of heather, wild roses, and sprigs of fern.

“Here,” she said breathlessly, grinning. “I picked these fresh. Thought they’d look lovely in yer hair.”

Abigail turned around, surprise softening into a smile as she took in the girl’s excitement. “They’re beautiful, Ayla. Thank ye, truly.”

She sat back down so that Ayla could begin weaving the blooms into her braid.

Ayla hummed as she worked, her brow furrowed in concentration, then softened with a wistful look.

“I hope I find love like yers one day,” she said quietly. “Fierce and loyal. The way Kian looks at ye… I’d be blessed to have that for meself.”

Abigail’s heart swelled with emotion as she reached up and took Ayla’s hand in her own.

“Ye will, lass,” she said warmly. “There’s nay rush. Love comes when it’s meant to, and when it does, it’ll knock the breath out of ye.” She squeezed her hand. “I have nay doubt ye’ll find someone who sees the light in ye just as I do.”

Ayla beamed, blinking away tears before they could fall. She gave a small, shy nod and stepped back, admiring her handiwork with a pleased sigh.

“There,” she said. “Ye look like a lass out of a fairytale, one of those who walk with starlight in their hair.”

Before Abigail could reply, the door opened again, this time more slowly, and Helena entered.

“It’s time,” she said with a kind smile. “Kian’s waitin’ at the chapel. The whole clan’s gathered.”

Abigail felt her breath catch, her heart fluttering like a bird in a cage. She looked at her sisters, then at Ayla, and back to the mirror, where the woman staring back at her no longer looked uncertain or afraid. She looked like a bride ready to meet her future.

With a nod and a deep breath, she whispered, “Let’s go.”

She stepped out of the chamber, her arm linked with Freya’s. The cool stone floor of the corridor met her slippers as they walked slowly toward the stairs. Her gown rustled softly with every step.

Braids twisted around her crown, adorned with the flowers Ayla had tucked there with such care.

The sunlight poured over the courtyard as they descended, warm and golden, and her heart thrummed against her ribs.

Each step toward the chapel dredged up memories: Kian’s wildness that day on the road, how she’d raged and fought him. He’d been infuriating, stubborn as a mule, but so had she. And somehow, in that war of wills, something gentler had blossomed, something real.

She thought of his hands, rough with sword and reins, yet tender when they held her close. She thought of the nights they argued, then laughed, and how she’d grown to feel safer beside him than anywhere else.

He saw her. Not the girl others whispered about, but her —bold and unapologetic.

With him, I nay longer feel like I have to hide meself.

The chapel rose ahead, white stone and ivy climbing its walls, the bells quiet for now. Her breath caught as emotion welled up—not fear, but awe. She was brought to the McKenna lands against her will. Now, she stood on steady feet, her heart swelling with love, her body no longer a cage.

“Ye look radiant, lass,” Freya whispered, giving her hand a squeeze.

Abigail smiled, a tear slipping free as they paused in the yard. “I never thought I’d feel this… right. Like I belong in me own skin. Kian thinks I’m beautiful, when I’ve always thought I was never thin enough.”

“Ye’ve always been beautiful,” Freya said.

“Took ye long enough to see it,” Helena piped up.

Abigail drew a long, steadying breath and turned left toward her. “Thank ye, Helena.”

“Ye’ll be a true McKenna now, Abigail,” Helena added with a small smile. “Nae just in name, but in heart. The clan will be stronger with ye as its Lady.”

“I’m honored,” Abigail replied, her voice thick with emotion. “I never thought I’d belong anywhere, but now… I cannae imagine bein’ anywhere else.”

Helena’s gaze softened as she looked ahead toward the chapel and continued to walk alongside her.

“I’ll tell ye a wee secret. I’ve always envied lasses with sisters.

I never had one growin’ up, and sometimes I dream of what it might’ve been like—someone to braid hair with, whisper secrets to, or fight with over nothin’ and make up the next breath. ”

Abigail slowed her steps. She looked at Helena, her heart swelling further. “Then think of me as yer sister,” she said. “Ye were there for me when I couldnae make sense of anything. Ye listened, ye guided me. More than that, ye made me feel welcome as a woman. As a friend.”

Helena blinked quickly, then smiled, her lips trembling just a bit. “I’d like that, Abigail, more than ye ken. I never thought I’d gain a sister through all of this, but fate has its own way.”

They stopped just before the chapel door.

Abigail reached out and wrapped Helena in a warm embrace. The women held each other close, not as strangers but as sisters bonded by time, trust, and clan.

Helena’s voice was soft in Abigail’s ear. “Go on now, Sister. He’s waitin’ for ye.”