Page 11

“ Y e make such a bonny bride, Mabel!” Lady MacLennan cried, placing a hand over her heart.

Mabel stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked beautiful, indeed. But a spell of nerves had overcome her, so potent since she had awoken that it was hard to appreciate the beauty staring back at her.

The maids in Muir Castle had proven themselves most skilled, styling her usually unruly hair into a twisted bun that sharpened her usually soft, childlike features.

Her face had been powdered, and her lips stained with the crushed petals of a red rose, giving them a soft pink look. Her dress was a marvel, for something sewn so quickly. A soft green number with lovely embroidery in gold at the hem and neckline.

“I thank ye, Maither,” she said, rising from her seat.

“‘Tis a shame that Scarlett and Skylar cannae see ye today. They would’ve gushed with pride,” Lady MacLennan went on. “Green suits ye.”

“Where is Faither?” Mabel asked, her hands already shaking.

“He will be waiting in front of the chapel to walk ye down the aisle.”

She nodded and rubbed her sweaty palms on her skirts.

The reality she had resigned herself to had hit her as soon as the wedding preparations started.

She would be more than the godmother of the bairns, but the lady of the clan as well, and she would have to prove herself to her new people, who would no doubt appreciate their new lady’s avoidance of conversation.

She suddenly wished for her sisters, but considering how quickly the wedding was arranged, there had been no time to return to fetch Skylar, and with Scarlett newly wed, they didn’t want to intrude.

Scarlett’s wisdom and Skylar’s reassurance would have eased her nerves, but her mother’s teary compliments would have to suffice to keep her knees from buckling as she walked down the aisle to the altar.

She spared a glance in the mirror again, taking a steadying breath. She hoped her appearance would at least please her soon-to-be husband.

She had barely seen him since they had shared that kiss in her chambers, as he had been busy with his own preparations for the wedding.

She had hoped to put the kiss behind her as casually as he had left her chambers, but even as she had been preoccupied, she had been unable to keep him out of her mind.

Even now, her cheeks flushed as she remembered just how ferociously he had claimed her mouth. It had been entirely scandalous and had left her desiring things she couldn’t say out loud, for propriety’s sake.

Mabel couldn’t help but wonder if he would claim her lips as he had, or if he would kiss her chastely. She bit her lip until her mother nudged her to cease the action. She had forgotten she wasn’t alone.

“Shall we leave?” she asked.

Lady MacLennan gave a frantic nod.

As she stood outside the chapel, her heart pounded faster, quickening all the more when she saw her father extend a hand towards her.

Praying that she didn’t embarrass herself by tripping over her legs or stepping on her dress, she took her first step into the small chapel, thankful it wasn’t such a large ceremony that her nerves would suffocate her.

Invitations had been sent out to neighboring clans, but most would probably only meet at the celebrations afterward.

She stole a glance at the Laird, who looked dark and foreboding instead of a groom at his wedding. At least Laird Crawford had had a less severe look on his face when he had married Scarlett.

“Are ye ready, Mabel?” Laird MacLennan suddenly asked. “‘Tis nae too late to turn back.”

Mabel understood her father’s concern, and it was touching that he was giving her the option to escape a fate she might not want. He had not said anything earlier, but she sensed that he feared the Laird might have coerced her into this marriage.

They were a family of no consequence or advantage to him, yet he still wanted her. But she didn’t know why.

She had told her father it was for the boys, but he had a logical mind and a romantic heart.

He didn’t want any of his daughters to be stuck in loveless marriages, even if they started off as arranged matches, and with everything he had seen of the match so far, he wasn’t sure if he could trust that Laird Muir wouldn’t leave her in a loveless, lonely marriage.

“I am sure, Faither,” Mabel said. “I will marry him.”

He nodded and led her into the chapel.

She spotted the bairns sitting in the front row beside her mother and felt tears spring to her eyes.

They looked adorable in their matching linen shirts and trews.

She hadn’t expected to see them, but she was grateful they had left their chambers.

She sent a grateful smile to her mother, who nodded at her.

She turned back to the man standing at the altar, gasping when he turned to her and his eyes softened ever so slightly. She gave him a hesitant smile as her father placed her hand in his, and was surprised when he leaned in.

“Ye are verra bonny,” he murmured. “I am most fortunate.”

She felt heat travel from her cheeks to her chest and lowered her eyes as he led her the rest of the way to the priest. She had been expecting him to stay silent, but the whispered compliment had stunned her, and her heart skipped a beat in surprise.

His hand was large around hers and warm, and it lent strength to her shaky knees.

The priest started his sermon, and Mabel realized that her heart had yet to stop pounding. The Laird made her question her decision again.

Could she really submit the rest of her life to him?

He had proven himself a responsible laird and godfather to the boys, but would he be a good husband to her?

“I pronounce ye man and wife. Ye may now kiss the bride,” the priest announced.

Her heart soared as she lifted her eyes to the Laird, but he didn’t waste a second, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek as the small crowd cheered.

She felt a pang of disappointment, but she quashed it quickly. She could hardly expect him to kiss her as he had in front of her family and strangers.

“May yer union be blessed with many healthy lads and bonny lassies, Laird Muir,” another intoxicated well-wisher intoned, rising from his seat.

The crowd cheered, and more intoxicated men raised their cups in ribald toasts that had her face reddening further as the evening deepened into night.

Music and laughter eased the tension she had felt earlier, and she had even seen the Laird smile once, but he had quickly hidden it behind his cup.

He seemed to be able to hold his wine, but she hadn’t dared, limiting herself to nursing the first cup that had been poured for her.

He had also proven dutiful, cutting choice pieces of meat from the table in front of them as well as bread and cheese from the feast that had been prepared in their honor.

She ate heartily as dancers twirled around the makeshift dance floor, enlivening the atmosphere. She found herself swaying in time to the music and wished she could be one of them, which surprised her.

She had learned the dances growing up but had never really enjoyed them, as her mother had always forced her to dance with partners who did not care about her enjoyment. But now, as she watched the riotous crowd dance with no care for missteps, she itched to be free.

“Do ye wish to dance?” the Laird suddenly asked from beside her.

Her eyes widened, and she turned to him. She instinctively shook her head, but then stopped herself. What would happen if she chose to enjoy herself?

She nodded and met his eyes. “Aye,” she answered.

He nodded and rose to his feet, extending a hand towards her.

“Me Laird?” she sputtered.

She hadn’t expected him to offer. He didn’t look the sort to enjoy something as frivolous as dancing.

“Ye want to dance, do ye nae?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Dance with me, then.”

She took his hand in a stunned haze and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. The crowd parted for them, and when she heard the strains of the next dance, she couldn’t help but wonder if he would know the steps to such a lively tune.

She was surprised even when he moved into the first steps with that serious expression on his face, but she quickly followed his steps, and soon she was breathless with exhaustion, but her heart and mind felt lighter.

He came to her as soon as the dance ended, looking down at her with a question in his eyes.

“Are ye well?”

She nodded. “I thank ye.”

She heard the clearing of a throat beside her and turned to find her mother looking serious.

“Pardon the intrusion, Me Laird,” Lady MacLennan said. “‘Tis time I escort the bride upstairs.”

Mabel reddened as she realized what her mother was implying. Why couldn’t she wait till she was alone?

“Aye. Ye can take her…” the Laird trailed off with a nod.

Mabel clasped her hands in front of her and solemnly followed her mother out of the room, bracing herself for an education that would no doubt scar her.

Once they had entered her chambers, her mother went to an armoire and produced a sheer-looking nightdress she had never owned, but she didn’t dare question where it had come from.

Being as observant as she was, Lady MacLennan noticed the look on her face as she removed the pins from her hair.

“Yer husband will be pleased to see ye in this dress on yer wedding night,” she said. “Rise, so ye can change.”

Mabel complied, her heart pounding, but nothing could have prepared her for the fountain of salacious wisdom her mother spewed. She found herself wishing it was anybody but her mother who had given her the lecture.

“It can be pleasurable, and ye can make it so by telling him what ye like and dinnae like,” Lady MacLennan went on, oblivious to the deepening red hue on her daughter’s cheeks.

How was Mabel to know what she liked when she hadn’t experienced anything?

Her mother had just spoken about everything and nothing, and judging from the awkward look on her face, she would not answer questions.

“Dinnae just keep silent and allow him ravish ye like a beast,” Lady MacLennan added. “Ye’re the daughter of a laird, and ye should be treated with respect.”

Mabel didn’t hear much beyond her mother comparing her new husband to a beast, and while she didn’t know him well enough to ascertain whether he deserved the title or not, he had done nothing deserving of such a cruel moniker.

“Maither, ye willnae speak about him in such a manner again,” she asserted. “He may nae look like he has a heart, but he does, and he cares for the bairns and his people. He is nay beast.”

Lady MacLennan’s eyes widened as she stared at her daughter as though she were seeing a stranger.

Mabel had never been one to speak her mind so freely before, and she hadn’t known where the courage to stand up to her mother had come from, but she just couldn’t sit there and have her husband be judged so harshly.

“I saw ye earlier, dancing with him,” Lady MacLennan said with a smile.

“Ye are bolder with him than ye’ve ever been with us.

Marriage to him becomes ye; he just might be what ye needed all along.

I am happy ye are wed—‘tis a good match. I only hope ye find happiness with him outside caring for the bairns.”

“Maither…”

“I will say naught about yer husband again.” Lady MacLennan raised her hands in surrender. “Be happy, daughter. ‘Tis all I’ve ever wanted for ye and yer sisters. And be bold. Dinnae be afraid to tell him what ye want. Men like a bit of a challenge. ‘Tis how I won yer faither over.”

“Maither,” Mabel groaned. “Please spare me the details of yer marriage bed.”

“I am only teaching ye from experience.”

“Aye. Aye,” Mabel muttered, shaking her head. “I thank ye.”

“Dinnae forget to write to us. Yer sisters will want to hear from ye.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she nodded and hugged her mother, breathing in her comforting scent before she left.

It would be long before she saw her mother or family again, and while she had always enjoyed her seclusion, she had secretly dreaded the day when she would have to leave her childhood home behind.

Her mother’s arms were warm and tight around her, enveloping her in a soothing cloud of lavender. But as soon as it had come, she was left alone with her thoughts in a chamber that was much too large for her.

She tried to sit still, but she could scarcely stay in one place as worry for the night ahead seized her.

Her mother had not exactly painted a good picture of what was to come, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to be so intimate with a man she barely knew.

When he had kissed her, he had set her body aflame in ways she had never experienced before, and she had been left wanting more.

But what if he wasn’t as restrained with her as he had been that night?

Would it be so terrible?

She worried her lip, feeling wanton for her thoughts.

Eventually, she decided to lie back and see where the night would lead, hoping that whatever happened would be as pleasurable as the kiss they had shared.