Page 32 of Highlander’s Fruit of Eden

“ S he’s here. She’s here,” Niamh said as she bounced up and down at the window.

Greyson Foster rubbed his temples, trying desperately to ease the throbbing of his head.

Through slanted eyelids, he glared at his sister, wishing she’d keep the noise down.

Although he knew the day was supposed to be a joyous one, he doubted he’d be joining in on any of the festivities.

“Oh, she looks mighty lovely, she does,” Niamh said cooing at the woman standing at the chapel doors. Although Greyson’s curiosity was piqueed, he didn’t have the strength to get up and look for himself.

“I’ll have to take yer word for it,” he moaned. A part of him wanted to call the whole thing off and go escape to a dark room till the pounding in his head ceased. But he knew he had an obligation to fulfill, and he would do it despite the headache.

“Arenae ye a least bit curious? Ye said ye never laid eyes on the girl. Well, now is yer chance,” Niamh said as she moved away from the window and scooped her arm around Greyson’s, trying to pull him to the window.

Begrudgingly, he rose from the plush armchair by the fire and shuffled to the window.

His shoulders dropped as he caught the last bit of his new bride’s trail as she disappeared into the chapel.

“Looks like I’ll have to wait a few more minutes then,” Greyson said as his vision began to blur from the pain that coursed through his head.

“I cannae believe I’m goin’ to be a sister,” Niamh said clapping her hands. “Nae as if I dae nae love ye, braither, but when ye’re around men for so long, it’s nice to finally have someone else to talk to about things, ye ken?”

Greyson grunted as he turned his back to the window and pulled down the hem of his vest. Niamh brushed her hands over his broad shoulders and looked him over once more before giving her final approval.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed Niamh’s head dropping.

The quiet that filled the room, although welcome, was heavy.

“It’s just been us for so long, ye and me,” Niamh said, drawing her eyes back to Greyson. “I mean, what if she doesnae like me? What if she’s like one of those English women who wants to come in and change everythin’?”

Greyson placed his hand on his sister’s shoulder and forced a smile.

“She’ll love ye. Everyone does. But remember, she may nae be comfortable at first. Ye’re forgettin’ she’s meetin’ us for the first time too without knowin’ who we are.

Jus give the lass a bit of space and time, and she’ll come around. ”

Niamh’s spirits lifted, and the sadness on her face shifted back to her bubbly smile.

She nodded and rolled her shoulders back.

“Aye. Now, I ken ye’re goin’ to be ridin’ back to the castle as soon as ye can.

Would it be so bad if I stayed here for a wee bit?

Get a better feel of England? I mean, really, when is the next time ye’ll let me come this far?

And there is still so much to see an do.

I heard the fall festival is comin’ up, and there will be performers and singers. It might be educational for me.”

“Niamh,” Greyson glared at her a moment and quickly drew his hand to his head. “Ye’re goin’ a mile a minute.”

“Sorry.” Niamh dropped her head and clamped her lips into a tight line.

“As for stayin, I will nae have ye here unchaperoned. Ye’ll be in the second carriage and comin’ back home wit’ us.”

“And when will that be?” Niamh asked as she clasped her hands tightly in front her. Greyson couldn’t help but smirk at his sister’s bright, eager smile.

“As soon as the vows are said,” Greyson said coldly. “Ye ken I’m nae doin’ well right now, and I daenae have it in me to stay a moment longer than I need to.”

Niamh’s shoulders dropped as did her face. Her face scrunched with irritation as she nodded her head.

“I promise ye though,” Greyson said. “We will go one of these seasons.”

“Ye say that every year, and every year we miss it,” Niamh complained as she sucked in a long deep breath. “But I understand.”

“Good, now get ye downstairs; we have a weddin’ to attend,” Greyson urged as his sister rose to her tip toes and pressed her lips to his cheek.

“Ye’ll make a fine husband,” Niamh whispered.

Greyson nodded as his sister skipped to the door and stepped out of the room. The silence that filled the room was that of peace, but the droning sounds of the chatter in the chapel seeped through the wooden door disturbing the tranquility. Greyson pulled in a long deep breath.

I just need to get through the ceremony. Just walk into the room, sign the papers, and leave. It doesnae have to be a huge production. I’ve committed to the marriage and I will nae shame my family’s name by cancellin’ it now. Besides, the travel back to Scotland will be nae less painful either way.

Clearing his throat and straightening the wrinkles in his shirt, Greyson moved to the door.

The moment he pulled it open, the rush of music and chatter caused his head to pound violently.

Straining to see through the pain, he forced one foot in front of the other until he saw the blurry black figure in front of him.

“Are you alright?” the priest asked, leaning closer to him. Greyson could smell the rosemary rolling off the priest’s garments as if the man had baked the herbs into the very fibers of his clothing.

“Aye,” Greyson said trying hard not to speak so loud that his voice rattled his ear drums.

“Then we shall proceed?”

“Get on wit’ it,” Greyson said, a bit harsher than he intended.

Turning, Greyson faced the group of people gathered in the pews.

Although he couldn’t see all who had gathered, he knew there wasn’t anyone, save for his sister, to represent his family.

If he had wedded in Scotland, there would have been far more people, and the congregation would have spilled out of the chapel, but this wasn’t about him.

The whole production was a show put on for the bride’s family.

Greyson couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the lass. He knew the arrangement he made with Harris for his daughter’s hand, and for a moment Greyson couldn’t help but wonder if they had done it to shame the girl.

The crowd fell silent as a lass in a cream-colored dress stepped out from behind the curtains.

She moved far too slow for Greyson’s liking, and he wished that she would hurry.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to marry the girl, but he just didn’t want to be there longer than he had to, and she wasn’t making haste in the moment.

To Greyson, it seemed like an eternity waiting for her to reach him, but when she finally stepped up to his side, Greyson couldn’t help but gasp.

Even through his throbbing headache, he thought an angel had arrived to cease the pain behind his eyes as he stared at her.

Her hair was piled on top of her head in delicate curls, and only a few fell around her soft face.

Her brown eyes bore into him as if she could read his every thought.

Arching an eyebrow, he found his heart thumping wildly in his chest as she flashed him a smile.

He could only imagine what she must have thought of him at the moment, for her smile vanished.

“And who gives this woman away?” the priest asked. Harris stepped up and placed his daughter’s hand into Greyson’s. Instantly, Greyson felt a jolt course through him. Her hand was tender and smooth. The fragrance that drifted up to his nose eased the pain long enough for him to see her clearly.

“I do,” Harris answered as he scowled at his daughter.

The priest continued, and yet, Greyson could not think of anything other than how he came to be standing before God with such a lovely woman ready to marry him.

It was clear that she was timid, for when it was her turn to speak, the girl merely looked dead ahead of her as if transfixed by something beyond the priest and nodded.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest said. “You may kiss your bride.”

Rhea turned to face Greyson, and he lifted his hands slowly up to remove the thin white veil covering her face.

He exhaled all the air trapped in his lungs as he noticed just how fair she was.

There were no artists in the world that would be able to capture her beauty.

As the sunlight poured through the stained-glass windows, it was as if God above had blessed her.

Greyson leaned down and pressed his lips to her briefly before pulling back just as quickly.

Her eyebrows scrunched at the bridge of her nose a moment as if to express a sadness she couldn’t convey.

The hurt in her eyes made him wish he would have thought over this moment a bit longer, but the pain swirled about and stabbed his brain like nails.

Without a word, Greyson snatched Rhea by the hand and escorted her from the pulpit and down the aisle.

With each step he took, the voices around them rose louder.

Only when he pushed through the entrance doors and stepped out into the fresh spring air did the dizziness subside.

Swallowing hard, he glanced over to his bride.

Her brown eyes were wide and shimmering from the tears she held back.

“It’s best if we head out,” Greyson said.

Rhea nodded without saying a word as he pulled open the carriage door for her.

He lifted his hand up to help her into the small compartment, but she didn’t take it.

A part of him wished he didn’t have to rush her.

He wished they could stay for as long as she needed to say her goodbyes.

But with every beat of his heart, his head pounded and pulsed until it was nearly unbearable.

Quickly, he slipped into the carriage beside her and closed the door. Rhea turned to look out the window. Greyson wished he could read her mind to know what she was thinking. He knew he was being rash and urgent with her.

“Ye’ll see them again,” he said as he shifted his weight in the cushioned seat.

Rhea gave a quick stiff nod and sat back. He could feel her body heat rising up against his leg as the carriage rocked, causing her to occasionally bump into him. Each time, she shifted away from him trying to keep as much distance from him as possible.

“Ye’ll love Scotland,” Greyson promised as they rode on through the town and past the stone wall that divided the country road from the city.

“It’s greener there and a lot less noisy.

That is if ye’re nae countin’ my sister.

Niamh can talk ye into the grave if ye’ll let her.

Ye’ll meet her proper when we get back.”

Rhea nodded as she glanced to him briefly.

Well, here I thought she’d be a talker, but I was told she was a quiet one.

Perhaps I should relish in the peace? My head is poundin’ somethin’ fierce, and it is a very long journey.

Maybe I’ll just give her a wee bit of time to mull things over for herself.

Poor lass has just been torn from all she kens.

“Best get some rest now, then,” Greyson said nuzzling his back into the seat, trying to find some sliver of comfort. “Tis a long journey, and I daenae suppose ye have much to say to me as of now.”

Leaning his head against the side of the coach, he couldn’t help but let his mind drift.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed how pale Rhea’s skin was, like the ivory shells that were scattered about the beaches near his home.

He wanted to reach out and touch her, even for a moment.

But as his hand gravitated to hers, he noticed her recoil from him.

Best to leave it be for now. She is my wife now after all, and we can take our time wit’ such matters. But I bet her skin is like silk. One day she’ll reach for me, I ken it. Till then, I’ll wait.