Page 11 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Bride
CHAPTER 11
Maisie was overwhelmed by the crowd gathered for the wedding.
She recognized a few faces from her father’s clan, men wearing dark kilts of red and gold. Those that caught her eye nodded to her respectfully.
She also caught a few less-than-friendly glances, mostly from girls from good families who had been turned down in her favor. She could not blame them and even felt a little envious as they walked about freely
It was so crowded that Maisie found it quite difficult to navigate. The air was rich with the smell of pastries and pies. There was a troop of pipers playing a merry tune in the corner, but the lilting music only seemed to add to the chaos. She hoped the wedding feast would be more orderly, but she feared the number of guests would only keep growing.
“Maisie,” she heard murmured quietly behind her and turned as tears sprang to her eyes.
“Faither!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him as he hugged her awkwardly. “How are ye?”
“All is well, me love. How are ye? Ye look so bonnie. Is this yer dress for the weddin’?”
Maisie smiled looking down at the lavender dress she was wearing. It had been one of many made up for her by the seamstress.
“Nae, Da, I wouldnae be walkin’ in the crowds in my weddin’ dress before we are wed. I’ll be gettin’ into that shortly.”
Her father chuckled, his eyes filling with tears, and she glared at him affectionately.
“Dinnae make me cry, Da,” she said imploringly, and he wiped swiftly at his cheeks.
“I am sorry. I didnae think I would have to bid farewell to ye so soon.”
“How have things been since the contest, has there been any more information from the docks in Glasgow?”
Her father nodded. “Me men have managed to track down the blaggard who told me the ships never arrived. One was lost, it is true, but the other did dock safely.” He shook his head as she looked at him hopefully. “Nae, child, a great deal is still lost. I have been able to hire back Dora, however, and she was most anxious for me to wish ye well.”
Maisie’s heart clenched at the memory of her faithful maid. “Thank ye, Da, please send her all my love. I hope she keeps practicin’ chess even without me there. I shall write to her about the weddin’ and I hope she might reply.”
Her father swallowed and nodded. “I shall convey that to her. There’s a gift from us both for ye to have later,” his eyes glinted fondly. “Ye should get to yer other guests, Maisie. I shall be the proudest man alive to walk ye down the kirk’s aisle.”
She managed a brave smile as she turned away, feeling the threads of her old life severing even as she did so. She could not believe that in only a week she had had to bid him farewell forever.
It was suddenly hard to breathe as she walked across the lawn. The grass appeared to tilt alarmingly and many of the faces in the crowd became blurred to her eyes as if the air were made of soup.
Why is it suddenly so hot?
“Ye look very well, Miss Brown.”
She turned around for the source of the voice. It was Marcus, standing with a few other clansmen she did not recognize.
“Och, thank ye,” Maisie said, fanning herself with her hand.
“Are ye feelin’ well?” he asked, although he made no move to assist her, his gaze almost accusatory.
“Nae, I’m fine,” Maisie said quickly, hoping that she was not about to collapse to the floor again.
“Good, we wouldnae want ye unable to fulfill yer duties today,” Marcus said slowly. He glanced at one of the other men in the group—who looked the worse for drink—and they exchanged a meaningful glance. It was clear to Maisie that she was not amongst friends.
This man wanted his niece to stand in me place, and blames me that she doesnae. I have done nothin’ wrong—other than to win.
She took in a deep breath to try and stop her head from spinning and gave him a gentle smile.
“I can assure ye, Marcus, that I will have nae trouble ‘fulfilling me duties’. The laird chose me, and as a loyal member of his clan I am sure ye are excited for the future our union will bring.”
She kept her gaze steadily on his and watched the heat of embarrassment creep over his neck. The men around him looked on with wide eyes, as Marcus stammered to reply.
“Aye, I have the utmost confidence in me laird,” Marcus stated. “It is those around him I am more uncertain of.”
He saluted her with his drink with a self-satisfied smirk and then turned his back on her. At any other time, Maisie would called him up on his rude behavior, but the dizziness had returned to such an extent that she struggled to remain upright.
“I would think you would be a little more polite to yer future Lady, Marcus,” came a voice from behind her, a hand coming up to support her elbow as Bram Wallace stepped forward from the crowd.
Marcus turned, glaring at Bram.
He scoffed. “I wished her well,” he muttered into his drink.
“Aye, I heard ye. Nae the most glowing endorsement ye could have given. Ye should be ashamed speakin’ to a lady in such a way.”
Maisie could see Marcus’s throat working, probably desperate to point out that she was hardly a lady —at least not yet—but he remained silent.
“There were many candidates for the laird’s bride,” Bram continued, “Laird MacLennan chose the best of the bunch and his word is final.”
Marcus’s stare could have cut glass. The air grew thicker and hotter with every second. Never had Maisie imagined that Bram Wallace would stand in as her protector, but she was grateful for it.
“I wish ye every happiness of course, Miss Brown,” Marcus added, “as do we all,” he finally said with a low bow. Maisie managed to nod her head in return, but even that small movement made her stomach roll, and she wondered if she might be sick.
As Marcus finally turned back to his companions, the hand on Maisie’s elbow tightened a little.
“Ye arenae well, Miss Brown. Let me help ye to a seat where ye can rest.”
Bram’s strong arm led her through the shallow crowd at the edge of the party and to a stone bench beside a high yellow rosebush. He lowered her gently to the surface and stood over her, looking about to call for help.
“I am quite well,” Maisie insisted hastily, taking deep breaths. Sitting down had helped, and her head was not spinning quite so much. “Thank ye, Mr. Wallace, I appreciate what ye said.”
“Call me Bram, Miss Brown. I will always dae anythin’ for the lady of me clan,” he said with a warm smile.
Maisie’s chest was heavy and her breathing labored, as if her stays had suddenly decided to tighten themselves.
She took out her kerchief and wiped her forehead, but it provided little relief. Bram’s face before her began to swim back and forth and she squinted at him, wondering why he was not standing still. Dark spots swarmed in her vision. Surely, she was not about to faint?
Not here. Not now.
Her whole body was trembling. She leaned forward, her hand pressed into her thigh as she tried to hold herself up. Everything around her faded into shapes and darkness. She was in a cage, right under the open sky. This was it. She was going to?—
“Stand aside!” came a calm, commanding voice.