Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Iam to be married before noon.
Smiling, Selene stood before the narrow looking glass in her chamber while Elsie and Maureen fluttered about her like bright birds, their hands busy.
Sunlight streamed through the small window, catching on the pale silk and wool of her gown and turning the room to gold.
The air smelled faintly of lavender and woodsmoke, and beneath it all hummed a delicious, breathless excitement.
They teased her as they worked.
“Yer hands are shaking.”
“Ye cannae keep the smile from yer lips.”
“Hold still, Selene,” Elsie laughed, tugging gently at the laces of the gown. “If ye fidget any more, I’ll be forced tae sit on ye.”
Selene did her best to comply, though her heart was racing far too quickly for stillness.
Maureen stood behind her, deft fingers separating and plaiting rich chestnut strands of hair, her movements practiced and sure.
Once the braids were done, she reached for the ivy she had gathered earlier that morning – fresh and green, still cool with the snow that had fallen during the night – and began to weave it into a delicate crown.
She threaded the braids through it carefully, murmuring in approval as the leaves settled into place.
“There now,” she said softly. “Ye look as though ye’ve stepped straight out of a tale.”
Selene lifted her gaze to the looking glass and drew in a slow, astonished breath.
The young woman who looked back at her seemed both familiar and entirely new.
Her eyes sparkled, brighter than she could ever remember them being, her cheeks flushed a warm pink, her lips red and plush with smiling.
She scarcely recognized herself as the same young woman who had left her home in Hertfordshire only a few short weeks ago, anxious and uncertain, boarding the birlinn at Mallaig with more fear than hope in her heart.
She turned suddenly, emotion welling too swiftly to be contained, and seized the hands of her sister and her soon-to-be sister-in-law, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks.
“You’ve been so wonderful,” she said, her voice thick with feeling. “Even at such short notice, you’ve made this so special.”
Both women glowed at her words, pleasure written plainly upon their faces.
“I know you have both worked so hard since yesterday to give me a beautiful wedding day,” Selene added, her eyes shining. “I could never thank you enough.”
Maureen laughed and leaned in to plant a warm kiss on Selene’s cheek. “We’re happy tae dae this fer ye and me braither, dear Selene. Truly. I am so glad tae have gained nae just one sister, but two.” She cast a fond glance at Elsie as she spoke.
“And I, dear sister,” Elsie exclaimed, squeezing Selene’s hands. “I wish nothing more than fer ye and yer beloved Kenneth tae be every bit as happy as me darling Halvard and I.”
Selene gave a delighted laugh, light and unguarded.
“I am quite certain of our happiness taegether.” She shook her head in wonder.
“I could never have dreamed, when I boarded the birlinn in Mallaig, that I was sailing straight toward me fate.” Her smile turned mischievous.
“And now I am marrying the Brute of Sleat.”
All three dissolved into giggles, Maureen and Elsie gathering close around Selene, their faces flushed and bright, the room echoing with their laughter and shared joy.
It was at that moment that a timid knock sounded at the door.
“Who goes?” Selene called, startled.
“’Tis Jamie,” came a faint, hesitant voice from the other side.
Maureen lifted her skirts and hurried to the door. Selene watched her go, an odd flutter stirring low in her stomach, though she could not have said why.
A moment later, Maureen returned, her expression curious rather than concerned. “It was one of the grooms from the stable,” she said. “It seems he is acting as a kitchen boy today.”
“What did he want?” Selene asked, her stomach lurching despite herself. “Is something wrong?”
“Nay,” Maureen replied, shaking her head. “He said naught of trouble – only that meself and Elsie are called fer in the dining hall.”
Selene nodded slowly, schooling her breath even as her pulse quickened, unaware that this small summons marked the first ripple of change in what had, until now, been a perfect morning.
“Oh,” said Elsie, crossly. “Mayhap there is a problem with the decorations. We’ll dine there after the ceremony, and the maids were tae follow our instructions and place garlands of holly and ivy along the tables and hang them upon the walls.”
“Well then, we’d best hurry,” Maureen replied briskly, already moving toward the door. “There’s little time left, Selene is tae be in the chapel fer her wedding before many minutes have passed.”
Selene laughed, waving a hand at them. “I promise I’ll not leave my chamber for the chapel until you’ve both returned. I swear it.”
“We’ll be back soon,” Maureen called over her shoulder as the door closed behind them.
Selene listened as their footsteps faded along the passageway, their excited chatter drifting back to her in bursts of hurried words. The sound made her smile, though the sudden quiet that followed seemed odd, as though the room itself were holding its breath.
Left alone, she smoothed the lace at her sleeves and took up her mother’s necklace, which had been laid carefully upon the table.
The pearls gleamed softly in the morning light, the diamond clasp catching a brief spark of fire as she lifted it.
She fastened it around her neck and then raised a hand to touch it, fingertips lingering upon the smooth pearls.
If only her mother could be with her to see her happiness. A solitary tear sprang into her eye.
The thoughts came unbidden, swift and sharp, and her throat tightened.
A soft tap sounded at the door.
Selene started, her heart giving a small leap. Assuming Elsie or Maureen had forgotten something, she hurried across the chamber and pulled it open.
A young lad stood there, awkward and uncertain, twisting his cap in his hands. His smile was thin and wan, his eyes darting briefly past her shoulder before returning to her face.
“Jamie?” she said, recalling the name.
“Aye,” he replied quickly. “That is me name.”
She looked him up and down, taking in the britches and waistcoat worn by the grooms – though they sat ill upon his slight frame – and then her gaze fell to his hands.
They were grimy, dark with filth, as though he had been mucking out a stable and come straight to her door without stopping to wash.
A faint unease stirred within her. Surely, he was not working in the kitchen with hands like that.
“What is it, lad?” Her voice sharpened with disquiet, despite herself.
“’Tis a message from the other ladies.” He twisted his cap again in those dirty hands. “They asked me tae come fer ye. They’re waiting outside the postern gate fer ye.” He hesitated, then added, “They said tae tell ye they have a surprise fer ye there.”
Selene blinked at him, taken aback. The postern gate? A surprise?
Her brows knit as she searched his face, a chill of uncertainty creeping into her chest. Why would Elsie and Maureen summon her away now, of all moments, when she was almost due in the chapel?
Still, she smiled. Perhaps it was some small, girlish whim, a last-minute delight meant to make the day even more memorable.
“A surprise?” she repeated lightly.
“Aye, me lady,” Jamie said, nodding a little too quickly.
Selene hesitated, her fingers curling briefly around the edge of the door. Somewhere deep within her, a quiet voice urged caution – but it was quickly drowned beneath the heady rush of anticipation and trust in the belief that nothing ill could touch her on that, of all mornings.
Of course, Elsie and Maureen would have something special up their sleeves.
They were incapable of restraint when it came to celebrations, and this was no ordinary day.
She recalled their foray beyond the gate only days before, when they had laughed like schoolgirls while gathering ivy and holly for the betrothal feast, cheeks pink with cold and mischief.
No doubt this was more of the same – a final surprise before the solemnity of vows and blessings.
She retrieved her fur-lined cloak from its peg and fastened it around her shoulders before hurrying after the young groom. He walked at a brisk pace, long strides carrying him ahead so swiftly that she was nearly forced into a trot to keep up with him.
They did not pass through the kitchen as she had expected.
Instead, he led her into the courtyard and veered toward the narrow path beside the small herb garden that served the kitchens.
The path itself had been cleared of snow, the stones damp and dark beneath her boots.
But when Jamie opened the postern gate and gestured her through, she stepped into pure white, the snow soft and deep around her feet.
The cold bit sharply through the thin soles of her shoes.
She glanced about, her smile faltering as she searched for familiar faces. There was no sign of Elsie or Maureen, no laughter, no flutter of skirts. The space beyond the gate lay eerily still.
She turned, a question already upon her lips.
“Jamie?” she began.
The gate stood ajar, creaking faintly in the wind, but the boy had vanished as though he had never been there at all. A chill crept along her spine, colder than the winter air. Her gaze dropped to the ground, and it was only then that the truth struck her with sudden, sickening clarity.
There were no footprints outside the gate.
Elsie and Maureen had not been here after all.
Before she could draw breath or turn and run back through the gate, rough hands seized her from behind.
She gasped, the sound cut short as a coarse cloth was clamped over her mouth, the stench of sweat and horse filling her senses.
She fought wildly, arms flailing, but she was lifted bodily from the ground, her feet kicking uselessly in the air.
In a blur of motion, she was carried toward the woods and thrown across a saddle, her stomach jolting painfully against the leather. Strong hands held her fast as the horse surged forward. Her cry came out muffled and broken, lost beneath the pounding of hooves.
Selene’s heart was thundering as hard as the horse galloping beneath her. Terror flooded her veins, icy and paralyzing. She had been tricked. Lured like a fool from safety on the very morning of her wedding.
They rode hard, plunging through the trees, branches clawing at her cloak, snow spraying up around them.
She struggled with every ounce of strength she possessed, twisting and kicking, but there were too many of them.
Rough voices barked orders, hands tightened their grip, and the forest closed in, dark and merciless.
At last, they reached a hidden camp, sheltered among the trees not far from the castle. Smoke curled thinly into the cold air, and several horses stood tethered nearby. Selene was dragged down from the saddle, her legs buckling as her feet struck the frozen ground.
A tall, dark man stood before them, his arms folded against his chest, his legs akimbo.
The man who still held her arm in a tight grip dipped his head before him. “Laird Aidan.”