Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
“Ye willnae believe what I’m about to tell ye.”
Abigail let out a squeal as Marissa closed the door to her chambers.
“Why do ye have to go about it like that?” Abigail complained, but that didn’t stop her from patting the spot next to her on the couch she was perched on.
Marissa was across the room in a few quick steps, throwing herself down next to her sister and grinning at her. Her heart was beating so fast she felt it might pound out of her chest.
After Arthur had left the drawing room, Freya hugged her and cried. Marissa had to assure her several times that she’d visit every time she could.
Finally, she was able to convince her sister that there was a feast she needed to organize, and Freya had left her alone. However, she hadn’t stayed alone for long.
Because Freya was not her only sister. And it was Marissa’s responsibility to tell their youngest sister exactly what was about to occur tonight and the following morning.
“I’m leavin’ in the mornin’,” she said in a rush. “I’m leavin’ with the Laird—Laird Reid—to spend time with him before the weddin’. Gettin’ to ken him. Dinnae want to marry a stranger.”
Her words were coming out so fast that they were tumbling on top of each other. Abigail was staring at her with wide, confused eyes, until she finally held up her hands.
“What are ye jabberin’ on about?” she asked, clearly not able to make sense of anything Marissa had just said. “Slow down and start from the beginnin’.”
Marissa took a deep breath, readying herself for everything that was about to come.
“He’s real,” she began. “Laird A. Reid—the man I’ve been writing’ to for three years? He’s real. And he’s here.”
Abigail blanched, her eyes going wide as she stared at her sister.
All those years ago, Marissa had confided in only one person the depths into which she was delving to get away from the man hell-bent on pursuing her.
There had only been one person she had been certain would keep her secret.
And that had been her younger sister Abigail, who looked up to her so much she’d never betray her trust.
Abigail was staring at her now, her mouth gaping open and her eyes filled with intrigue as she tried to make sense of what Marissa had just said.
“What do ye mean, he’s real?” Her tone was filled with awe.
“I mean, Laird A. Reid is real,” Marissa said, wondering how her sister could be so dense. “And his name is Arthur Barkley.”
She told Abigail the entire story. Everything from the moment the maid had fetched her from the garden to just a few seconds ago when she had slammed her sister’s door shut came pouring out of her.
Abigail listened to every word with rapt attention, her focus never once wavering as she drank in every detail that slipped from Marissa’s lips. When Marissa was finally done, she gave her a pointed look.
“And?” she prompted.
Confusion flickered across Marissa’s face. “What else do ye want to ken?”
“Is he handsome?” Abigail asked. “Does he seem kind? What is he like?”
Marissa considered this for a moment. She had been so shocked when she first met the Laird that she hadn’t given much consideration to his looks.
“He’s…” She paused, searching for the right word to describe her betrothed. “Rugged.”
Abigail cocked her head, clearly wanting her to elaborate.
Marissa sighed. “He has a big, bushy beard. And he was a bit dirty if I’m bein’ honest. But he said he’d only just gotten his men to his castle before ridin’ here, and he hadnae had a chance to wash up before he left.”
“So ye dinnae ken what ye think of him.”
It was not a question, but that didn’t stop Marissa from responding.
“I ken that I’m intrigued,” she said honestly. “He seems to have a wicked sense of humor, which I like, and he just wants a wife to keep his council off his back.”
“What does the reason why he wants a wife matter?” Abigail questioned.
“Because he may leave me alone once his council leaves him alone.” A wistful look flitted over Marissa’s face. “If I’m lucky, I’ll have all the time in the world to write. I can craft me stories, I can live me life. I can visit ye. And mayhap I can even be friends with me husband.”
Her sister arched an eyebrow at her. “And ye want only to be friends with yer husband?”
Marissa shrugged. “It would be nice enough. I dinnae want to give meself hope for anythin’ more than that. Especially when it has all worked out for the better.”
“And how is marryin’ a man that ye didnae ken existed until an hour ago for the better?”
“Because,” Marissa explained with a sigh, “it’s thanks to Laird Reid that I was able to secure safety for Freya and Michael. And for ye while ye’re livin’ here. And I willnae be a burden on them anymore.”
Abigail studied her for a moment. When Marissa had begun walking toward her sister’s room, she’d been certain that Abigail would be so excited she’d barely be able to contain it.
Because while Marissa had never had fanciful ideas of love and marriage, Abigail always had. Her younger sister had always been drawn in by tales of knights rescuing damsels and ladies living happily ever after.
So why was Abigail not excited about her sister getting whisked away by a mysterious man?
“What is worryin’ ye?” Marissa asked.
She couldn’t say why, but she was very suddenly worried about her sister’s response.
Yes, she had been incredibly nervous when the Laird had first shown up.
For her entire life, Marissa had been certain that she did not want to marry.
But during her conversation with Arthur Barkley, she had gotten used to the idea.
She could see all the potential benefits an alliance and marriage to the man would bring, not only to her life but to the lives of those she loved.
Marissa had been certain that Abigail would see that. But now that she didn’t, it had her second-guessing everything.
“I fear ye are walkin’ into the beast’s den, Marissa.”
Abigail’s voice was low and filled with a worry that Marissa hadn’t often seen from her carefree younger sister.
“What do ye mean?”
But before Abigail could answer, the door to her rooms was flung open. Freya stood on the other side, her hand rubbing her belly absentmindedly and a smile plastered on her face.
“There ye are!” she exclaimed happily, walking into the room oblivious to the tension between her two sisters. “I’ve been lookin’ for ye.”
Immediately, she plopped down onto the small, cozy couch between her two sisters. Her brown eyes landed on Marissa, filled with excitement.
“Esther has shown yer betrothed to his chambers,” she tittered. “And the cook is preparin’ the feast. It’ll be quite the send-off.”
“Aye,” Marissa murmured, although she was still a bit hesitant due to Abigail’s concern just a few moments ago. “It’ll be strange, nae livin’ here anymore.”
Freya’s hand left her belly as she reached forward. She grabbed the hand of each sister, giving them a tight, loving squeeze.
“Just because ye willnae be livin’ here anymore,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears, “doesnae mean this will nay longer be yer home. Ye’ll just have more than one home now, and a husband to bring with ye when ye come to visit.”
Marissa stared at her two sisters. Freya looked happy and oblivious to the worry that was now knotting itself in her belly.
And dear, beautiful Abigail… The skin around her youngest sister’s eyes was still tight, still creased with concern.
But there was something else there. Something that Marissa had not noticed earlier.
Hope.
It’s because she loves me that she worries.
The reminder was a necessary one. As was the realization that, while Abigail might be worried for her, she was hopeful for her as well. So, Marissa vowed that she would take that hope and turn it into something meaningful as she carved out this new life for herself.
“Ye should have seen them together.”
Freya’s voice broke through Marissa’s inward spiral, and as Marissa focused her attention back on her sisters, she found Freya beaming at Abigail.
“They are a perfect match!” Freya continued.
Abigail gave her a soft, hesitant smile.
It had been one thing for her to voice her concerns to Marissa, but everyone was more than aware that Freya’s advancing pregnancy had affected her moods.
One moment she would be the happy, level-headed sister they had grown up with and admired so much, the next she would be blubbering about a kitten and how it was too cute to be able to exist.
There was no rhyme or reason to the way Freya’s moods swung these days. And Marissa could see on Abigail’s face that she would not be risking anything by bringing her concerns up to their oldest sister.
“How so?” Abigail prodded. “I would love to hear all about it.”
“Hear about it?” Freya chuckled. “Ye’ll be seein’ it soon enough. We all need to get ready for the feast.”
She clapped her hands.
“I said, we need to get ready,” she repeated, a little more forcefully this time.
She slapped at them playfully, urging them to rise from the couch.
“Ouch, oy!” Marissa yelled, jumping up when Freya gave her arm a small pinch.
“What do I need to get ready for?” Abigail protested, also rising to her feet. “I dinnae need to impress anyone!”
“That’s enough from both of ye,” Freya admonished.
She struggled for a moment as she tried to push herself up from the couch. But when it became clear she was going to need a bit of help, both Marissa and Abigail extended a hand.
Freya scoffed, but she didn’t reject their offer. When they’d finally pulled her to her feet, she leveled a look at them.
“Marissa,” she began. “Ye ken why ye need to make yerself presentable. And Abigail, this will be yer first time meetin’ the man who is to wed yer sister. So, get to it. Both of ye.”
Freya swatted at them affectionately, making Marissa roll her eyes and Abigail giggle. But they both heeded her words.
Striding out of Abigail’s room and toward her own chambers, Marissa hummed lightly to herself, wondering what the rest of the night would bring.
Once she stepped inside her room, she stopped short. A gorgeous dress draped in tartan lay on the foot of her bed.
“I had it made for ye recently,” Freya’s voice sounded from behind her, causing her to whirl around. “I was goin’ to surprise ye with it later as a gift. But I thought now would be as good a time as any and asked the maids to bring it.”
Suddenly, it was all too much. Finding out that the man she claimed to be betrothed to was real. Leaving in the morning to a new home. Getting married. Freya’s kindness and acceptance. Abigail’s drive to protect her. It all came crashing down around her, a ball of anxiety forming in her chest.
Her ever-perceptive sister gave her a worried look.
“What is it?” Freya asked, stepping forward and placing a hand on each of Marissa’s arms.
I cannae tell her the truth now, can I?
But Marissa could tell her sister some of the truth.
“It’s all happenin’ so fast,” she admitted, tears stinging the back of her throat. “And this dress is so lovely. And I love ye. And I just cannae believe everything’s goin’ to change startin’ tomorrow.”
Freya gave her a knowing, reassuring smile. “It’s all right to be a little scared,” she soothed. “It’s natural. But nay matter what—wherever life takes ye—Michael, Abigail, and I will always be there for ye. Things will change, aye. But that change might be lovely.”
One of her hands dropped to her belly, giving it an affectionate pat, emphasizing what she’d just said.
Her sister was right, Marissa had to admit. She’d seen it in Freya as she’d stepped into her new life as Michael’s wife. As Lady of Clan McEwan.
Freya has thrived since she became a wife. And her life had to change in order to do that. Mayhap I will thrive, too.
She focused on that thought, allowing the words to slowly push the tears back. Eventually, Marissa gave her sister a soft smile and nodded.
“Ye’re right,” was all she said, before walking forward and picking the dress up from the foot of her bed.
“I’ll leave ye to wash up,” Freya said. “Esther had them bring up some hot water for ye to bathe. But send someone for me before ye start doin’ yer hair. I want to help.”
Marissa knew that tone. It was the one her sister used to indicate she was not up to being argued with. For whatever reason, helping her with her hair today was important to Freya. And she wouldn’t take that away from her.
So she simply nodded.
Freya turned around and strode out of Marissa’s room. No doubt she was going to get ready and tell Michael about everything that had just transpired.
Marissa walked to the small, round alcove that sat off the corner of her room. A tub sat in it, filled with steaming water. Rose petals danced on the surface, and she reached out to skim her fingers over the water.
“Time to make meself bonnie for me betrothed.”
Her words echoed through the empty room, the only answer a whistling breeze that rustled the trees outside her open window.