Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Lavina stirred as the morning sun hit her face. Her eyes focused slowly on the wooden ceiling above. She studied the way the grain twisted and curled—it reminded her of water flowing down a stream.
With a weary sigh, she slipped carefully out of bed. Maisie stirred beside her, murmuring in her sleep and clutching the pillow to her chest.
Lavina didn’t have it in her to stay any longer. Enough tears had been shed over the days behind them, and now there was nothing left. She felt hollowed out, like a gourd scraped clean of its insides.
Pulling her cloak around her shoulders, she padded softly down the hall and into the kitchen.
“What are ye doin’ here, miss?” the cook gasped the moment she stepped through the door. “Ye cannae be in here! Ye should be upstairs, gettin’ yerself ready for the Laird! Ye’re to wed in a matter of hours!”
Before Lavina could protest—or even swipe a scone from the bowl—she was promptly ushered out of the kitchen and down the corridor.
“So, ye’re to be the lady of the castle then,” one of the maids said briskly, walking beside her with purpose. “Well, there’s a lot ye’ll need to ken about the Laird and how he likes things to be run. He keeps a tight ship, and I expect he’ll want ye to do the same.”
Lavina nodded numbly as they moved quickly through the corridors.
It seemed the servants were emerging from the very walls. By the time they reached her chambers, a half-dozen maids had gathered, each carrying something—brushes, pins, garments, basins of warm water. All were eager. All were bustling with energy she couldn’t muster.
“Sit,” said the head maid in a chipper tone, patting the back of a small velvet chair.
Another maid tugged the chair closer and guided Lavina into it.
“What’s goin’ on?” Maisie whimpered from the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Come now.” The head maid turned to her with a too-sweet smile that didn’t sit well with Lavina. “Ye ken it’s yer sister’s big day. We’ve got to get her ready. She’s to be wed before the sun reaches its peak.”
Lavina sat frozen, her heart beating a heavy, hollow staccato in her chest.
“Last chance,” Stephen said as Theo adjusted his fur-lined sporran, the same one his father had worn on his wedding day.
Theo ran his fingers over the soft white fur, a silent lament rising in his chest. The sporran was here, but his parents were not.
As much as he wanted to believe they were watching over him from heaven, his rational mind knew better. There was no way they could see him now, not really.
“Is the kirk ready?” he asked, casting one last glance at his reflection in the mirror.
“Aye,” Stephen replied. “The priest is there, and Amber’s with the nuns, waitin’ for ye.”
Theo pulled in a long, deep breath and squared his shoulders.
There was no turning back now. The decision had been made.
And though guilt gnawed at him—tricking the poor lass into marrying him—he knew there was no other way.
No woman would willingly take him, not with the scars that marred his face like claw marks from some vengeful beast.
No, if he was ever to claim his own piece of happiness, he would have to seize it.
He cleared his throat, adjusted the tie at his neck, and locked eyes with Stephen’s reflection in the mirror.
“Go fetch me bride,” he instructed, voice low and steady. “And make sure to bring her to the kirk.”
“Ye dinnae marry for love,” the head maid sneered, narrowing her eyes at Maisie. “That’s ridiculous and childish. Something ye should have learned some time ago.”
“Pay her nay mind, Sister,” Lavina said through clenched teeth. Some people are simply nae given the luxury of choosin’ their partner—or their mate.”
“Then why would anyone marry at all? It seems to me we’d all be better off leavin’,” Maisie countered, folding her arms across her chest defiantly.
Lavina pressed her lips into a tight line. She knew why she was doing it—why she was willing to marry the beastly, murderous Laird. It was for Maisie. For her future. And there was no doubt in Lavina’s mind that she’d do it all over again if asked.
“Ye dinnae ken what ye’re speakin’ of,” she said in a firm tone.
But the truth was, Maisie wouldn’t have to worry, not if Laird McGowan kept his word and allowed her to wed whoever she pleased. Of course, the strings weren’t attached to Maisie’s ankle, but to Lavina’s. Maisie’s future rested on Lavina’s choice to wed the murderous Laird.
“Lavina, please dinnae marry him,” Maisie begged. “There’s another way. We can run away now, just dart through this realm and into the next. There are ships, ones that leave at night—we can go. Please. Ye dinnae have to do this.”
“And why nae? It’s nae like I’ve got suitors knockin’ on the door, beggin’ for me hand,” Lavina snapped. “Uncle made it clear that I’m of nay value. Why do ye think I havenae been married off already? But now… now I can make a difference. I can save ye.”
Maisie’s shoulders slumped. Her arms fell limply to her sides as she opened her mouth to speak, but a harsh knock at the chamber door cut her off. The maids rushed to answer, beaming with pride as though they’d managed to tame the emotional tempest in the room.
“Lavina?” a man called through the open door.
Lavina craned her neck, recognizing the man. He had come to speak with Theo at breakfast.
“Is she ready? The Laird’s at the kirk, waitin’.”
Lavina glanced once more at Maisie and forced a smile before stepping toward the door.
“Are ye nae goin’ to come with me?” she asked, holding out her hand to her sister.
Maisie darted to her side, blinking back the tears welling up in her eyes. “I ken Maither and Faither are in heaven, lookin’ down on ye. They’d be proud of what ye’re doin’,” she said softly.
Lavina bobbed her head, fighting the urge to run. It wasn’t something her parents would’ve condoned. But then again, if they were still alive, she’d never have ended up in such dire straits.
The oak doors moaned, echoing her sorrow. She was walking straight into a life she swore she’d never have. Her footsteps echoed through the hallowed halls as if she were being escorted to her grave.
Dread coiled in her stomach as she tried not to pay heed to the lingering glances of the servants she walked past. She didn’t want to think about what was going through their heads.
All she could focus on was the knots in her stomach, threatening to ruin the wedding. And as much as she wished she could get out of it, marrying Laird McGowan was the best choice she had. Not only for her safety, but Maisie’s as well.
And as she climbed into the carriage with Maisie, she couldn’t help but wish for another way.
Laird McGowan was a monster—a brute, sly and tricky. Perhaps he’d only lured her into marriage under false pretenses, offering security before turning on them both. Or perhaps this was all a test, and she and Maisie were his subjects.
The thought sent an icy finger down her spine.
The carriage trundled over the cobblestones, and the closer they got to the kirk, the more distant Lavina felt from herself. She was a bride now, soon to be a wife.
The reality hit her like a blow. So much had happened in so little time that she barely knew which way was up.
“Lavina?” Maisie’s worried voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “Just say the word, and we’ll make a run for it.”
“And after that?” Lavina asked, her eyes drifting to the cheery countryside.
A dark cloud loomed above, heavy with the promise of rain, waiting to burst the moment they stepped out of the carriage.
“What do ye mean, after?” Maisie blinked. “We go to the Americas.”
“And with what money? Nae to mention the journey would kill us,” Lavina replied more sharply than she had intended.
She wasn’t angry at Maisie; she was angry with herself. Angry at this situation. At fate.
“And what? Ye think marryin’ someone ye dinnae love is the best option? Surely we’d be better off dyin’ doin’ something new than under our uncle’s thumb,” Maisie argued.
“I love ye, little sister. But again, with what money? I’ll nae become a thief. When I marry, yer future will be better. The Laird promised—”
“And what makes ye think he’ll keep his promise?” Maisie interrupted. “Ye remember who we’re dealin’ with, right?”
It was an accusation, blunt and painful. Lavina didn’t need a reminder. She was marrying Theodore Gavin McGowan, the nastiest laird in the south of the Highlands. A man with blood on his hands. A man rumored to have killed many people.
She shoved the thought to the back of her mind as the carriage came to a halt. If she let it fester, she’d act on impulse instead of reason.
Best to get this over with before I change me mind.
The kirk stood like a stone sentinel on the top of the hill. Lavina tried to calm the storm raging in her chest as she followed Stephen to the front door. Maisie clung tightly to her arm.
Stephen pounded three times on the massive doors.
The moan of the wood echoed like a cry from deep within Lavina’s soul. Her footsteps rang loud as they entered. The kirk smelled of heather and leather, mingled with the musty scent of mold. There were no decorations—no flowers, no ribbons, not even a wreath to mark the occasion.
A handful of people rose from the pews, faces she had barely begun to recognize. Amber’s wide eyes peered over the front wooden pew, just as big as saucers. Lavina couldn’t imagine what was going through her little head.
And next to her stood a wild mountain of a man. He looked as if he belonged with the beasts in the field rather than within the hollowed halls of God’s house. But there he stood, beard to his chest.
Lavina couldn’t help but wonder who he was and what business he had being there. But it was clear he was important to Theo, or else he wouldn’t be there.
The emptiness settled in her bones like a burial shroud.
“Why is there nay one here?” Maisie whispered. Still, her voice carried like thunder in the cavernous space.
Lavina’s breath hitched as her gaze landed on the altar. Theo stood there, tall and stoic, his hair tied back with a leather strap. Despite the scars that slashed down his cheek, he looked devilishly handsome.
Her heart fluttered, and she tore her eyes away from his piercing gaze.
Maisie wouldn’t be permitted to step up to the altar. And without her, Lavina wasn’t sure she could make it on her own.
“I love ye, Sister,” Maisie said softly. Then, she let go.
Lavina clutched at her, but Maisie gave her a gentle shove, forcing her to step forward.
With a pounding heart and a lump in her throat, Lavina moved toward Theo and the priest.
“Well, dinnae ye clean up nicely,” Theo noted in a hushed tone as she approached.
Lavina nodded nervously, unable to speak or move. She felt as though she’d stepped out of her body the moment he took her hand.
The priest droned on in the background, giving her prompts. Somehow, she managed to follow them.
It wasn’t until Theo gave her arm a gentle tug that she snapped herself back to the moment. Blinking, she found him leaning in, his lips only a hairsbreadth from her own. She held her breath as he brushed her lips with his own.
The kiss was soft, barely there, but it sent a prickle of shame and heat through her chest and cheeks.
It ended before it began.
Theo pulled her to his side, his large hand resting on her waist. Possessive but gentle. His gaze met hers, and she saw it—the brooding, the longing. He had felt it too, that spark.
Lavina turned quickly and glanced at Maisie, fighting back the wave of emotions crashing over her.
“Well now, that wasnae so bad,” Theo said as he led her out of the kirk. “Ye’ve kept yer end of the bargain. I swear to ye, I will keep mine.”