Chapter 14
“Today’s the day!” Cali sing-songed as she waltzed into Margaret’s room. “Ye’re going to be Lady McGhee officially!”
Margaret blinked against the brightness of her quarters and Cali’s voice. She’d slept fitfully, only getting a few hours, all of them spread out between spurts of wakefulness. Her mind had been plagued by the scene she’d happened upon yesterday and fear for her future.
She looked around the room, taking in the group of women that Cali had brought along with her. It seemed there was an entire team of maids who had been tasked with preparing her for her wedding day. All of them were grinning, their excitement palpable.
“She’s nae much for mornin’s,” Cali informed her team as she hung an elaborate deep purple gown on the privacy screen. “If ye could get the bath ready, I’d appreciate that. And ye two, leave the jewelry there. Ach, and bring her tea this way.”
Margaret watched as Cali directed the group of women around her room. One went to stoke the fire as another helped her sit up, supporting her back with a pillow. Then, a tray was placed in front of her. Before she could say anything, Cali stepped in and began pouring her a cup of tea.
“Eat a bannock or two,” Cali said as she dropped two sugar cubes into Margaret’s cup. “Ye’ll need just enough to get ye through the handfastin’ ceremony. Trust me when I say ye’ll want to eat plenty at the cèilidh.”
Margaret did as she was told, her eyes sweeping over the room. This should be a happy time, she knew that. Each and every one of the women here seemed to be overflowing with enthusiasm. Well, everyone except for her.
Her nervousness was overwhelming. As she bit into the bannock, Cali had pressed into her hands, Margaret struggled to chew. When she finally managed to swallow the bite, she set the rest to the side and grabbed her teacup.
“Cannae eat?” Cali said sympathetically when Margaret drained her tea. She picked up the tray, handing it off to another of the maids, saying, “I’ll get her ready if ye’ll stay nearby just in case I need yer help.”
As soon as the room emptied of everyone but Margaret and Cali, Margaret felt as though she could breathe a little easier. She was still nervous, unable to truly wrap her mind around the fact that she was doing something as unbelievably risky as marrying a Highlander like Ryan.
Cali undressed her, chattering about the wedding and the celebration that would follow.
Margaret could barely hear her over the roar in her ears, her heart pounding insistently in her head.
It almost felt as if she weren’t truly in her body.
She thought she might as well be a bird tucked away in the corner of her room, watching everything happen from overhead.
I’m marrying someone I don’t know to avoid harm… but now, I know he’s capable of inflicting it…
As careful hands danced over her skin, Margaret tried to push her doubts away. Everyone was nervous before their weddings, weren’t they? That’s all this was. Nothing more than pre-wedding jitters.
“Ryan…” Margaret started. “He’s kind, isn’t he? He’s not… ruthless toward women?”
“Ach, of course nae!” Cali said. “I ken he’s a wee bit rough around the edges, but he’s nae cruel to anyone that doesnae deserve it.”
Margaret hummed, letting those words sink in.
They repeated in her mind as Cali took her time dressing Margaret. Everything that adorned her body was new. Margaret was unsure if the new chemise and stays and corset had been commissioned by Ryan or if Agnes had taken it upon herself to ensure she was dressed in only the finest fabrics.
Either way, Margaret felt that it was almost too much. And as each layer was added, her reflection was more and more unbearable to behold. She truly looked as though she were set to be the wife of a laird, the Lady of Castle McGhee.
Then, Cali helped her into the purple gown with golden detailing, and Margaret finally had to look away.
It was beautiful—the sleeves with their intricate stitching and the bodice with its careful placement of glittering threaded features.
Agnes was truly the most talented seamstress Margaret had met.
“Oh, ye’re really the bonniest bride we’ve ever had on these grounds, Me Lady,” Cali said, spinning Margaret around and taking in her form. Her eyes glistened, and Margaret was almost certain tears were swimming in them. “Let’s get yer hair done and jewelry pinned, aye?”
Margaret nodded, swallowing around a lump in her throat. As she was led to her vanity, a voice started whispering to her in the back of her mind. The voice sounded very much like her aunt’s.
It asked her if she was sure that marrying a Scottish man would be better than marrying Duke Cunningham.
Weren’t Highlanders known as violent, aggressive beasts?
Was it really the best idea to hand herself over to one willingly?
She should try to get away now. She should try to leave before it was too late.
She tried to ignore it, closing her eyes as Cali ran her fingers through her hair. The strands were twisted out of Margaret’s face, showing off the curve of her cheek. Her eyes popped, and she had a pleasant blush resting on her cheeks.
Margaret couldn’t deny that she made a beautiful bride.
A different voice trickled into her head, this one sounding like Eva.
This voice challenged the other, reminding her that Ryan had only acted violently when she was in danger.
Even when that man was tied in front of him, he didn’t beat him.
He’d only pushed his criminal back down.
He’d stopped his men from influencing him to issue a harsher punishment.
And he’s been nothing but wonderful to me. I’m creating problems that aren’t even there.
“All right,” Cali said, leaning over her shoulder and locking eyes with Margaret in the mirror. “Let’s pick yer jewelry and get ye to the kirk.”
Even after Cali finished draping Margaret in expensive jewels, the two voices in Margaret’s head were fighting with one another.
For every good quality she conjured, the voice of her aunt thwarted it with stories about unnamed Scotsmen.
It wasn’t until they arrived at the kirk that the voices stopped.
It’s too late to go back on this now. I’m doing this.
As she climbed the steps of the kirk, Margaret was surprised to find that it wasn’t all that different from the churches she knew.
It was a quaint thing, lacking some of the more elaborate symbols, but it was markedly a holy place.
And when she was led inside, her breath was stolen from her lungs, but it wasn’t because of the decor.
The place was packed. It seemed as though everyone from the castle and most from the village were in attendance. Her body shook as she began walking toward the end of the aisle where Ryan stood waiting for her.
He smiled at her, a small and private thing, and the force of that small gesture nearly knocked her over. His handsomeness was undeniable here. The kilt he was wearing was one she’d yet to see, and his shirt hugged his body in just the right places.
Eyes followed her as she made her way to him. She held her chin high, telling herself this was just like her first day in the great hall. Everyone wanted to see their lady and appraise her. This was no place to show uncertainty.
Reaching the Laird, she felt more sure of her decision. This would all be worth it for the protection. Despite her skepticism, she could not deny how safe he made her feel.
The officiant, a priest, began the service.
It was quite different from the weddings she had attended in England.
Rather than reading the scriptures and guiding Ryan and Margaret through a series of elaborate traditions and ceremonies, he spoke from the heart.
Though Margaret was unable to focus on each word he said. Her mind was on her husband-to-be.
It seemed that Ryan couldn’t take his eyes off her either. His gaze roamed over her body, making her flush. There was a softness to his expression, and Margaret’s insides fluttered. This should be purely business, yet there was an underlying heat threaded through the air.
This was more than that to her, she realized.
Despite her hesitations and the fear that she still harbored, she was growing to enjoy the time she spent with Ryan.
He offered her more than just protection.
He awakened something in her that she didn’t know resided there.
And she enjoyed his teasing, the demeanor he seemed to adopt only when they were alone.
Seemingly out of nowhere, Ryan offered her his hand. She stared down at it, trying to remember what part of the ceremony this was. She’d had so much information shoved into her mind over the past few days that she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do.
“Take me hand, Sassenach,” Ryan whispered, the very corner of his mouth tugging upward. “This is a handfastin’ ceremony, remember?”
“Oh,” she whispered, clasping his left hand with her own.
His palm was warm and steady against hers. His grip on her was steady but not too tight. Margaret stared down at where they were connected. Her hand was completely dwarfed by his, and that sent a curious thrill through her.
The priest pulled out a length of silken rope, speaking in Gaelic. As he draped it over their joined hands, his words wrapped around the two of them. Even though Margaret couldn’t understand what was being said, emotions still inundated her.
Again, she was struck by the stark difference between this ceremony and the ones she’d grown up with. The rope was knotted carefully over their hands, symbolic of their lives and souls now being bound together. It was beautiful, more beautiful than Margaret thought was possible.
The only thing that could have made this more special would have been her family’s presence. She forced herself not to dwell on that, though. This ceremony wasn’t meant to be sad. It was meant for joy and celebration.
After the final knot was tied, the priest went silent. It seemed as if everyone packed inside the kirk was leaning in. Anticipation hung heavy in the air, and Margaret grappled for the next steps once again.
“Now’s when ye kiss me, wife,” Ryan said, doing nothing to hide the smirk on his face.
The expression was infectious, and as she was pulled close to him to seal their marriage with a kiss, she grinned.
Having their second kiss in front of this congregation should have turned Margaret’s stomach. Yet, she found that she didn’t care. Their attention wasn’t judgmental. It was celebratory.
When Ryan tugged her closer, her stomach swooped pleasantly, and heat settled low in her belly. The crowd let out a cheer of encouragement. It seemed to embolden her new husband, and he nipped at her lips.
Margaret pulled away with a giggle, her face bright red. She was smiling so wide that her cheeks hurt. Her lungs screamed for more air, even though she was sucking down as much as she could.
“Now ye’re officially Lady McGhee,” Ryan told her, his voice low. She had to strain to hear it over the congregation’s excitement. “Me wife.”
“My husband,” Margaret replied, testing the word out.
Strangely, it felt at home on her tongue. She thought that perhaps this would all feel wrong. That’s what her mind had been screaming the entire way to the kirk. But now, it felt anything but.
I’ve never believed much in fate or soulmates. But this is… special. Perhaps coming here was the right decision after all.
Before she could dwell too much on that thought, Ryan began to pull Margaret back down the aisle.
She followed him, letting her eyes scan through the people calling their congratulations.
She spotted Agnes among those in attendance and lifted her hand in greeting.
The resulting excitement on the seamstress’ face made Margaret feel as though she’d found somewhere that she truly belonged.
“Where are we going?” she asked Ryan as they stepped into the late-morning sunlight.
His hand was still wrapped tightly around hers. He glanced down, giving her another smirk before directing her toward the carriage waiting for them on the road.
“Well, now that we’re wed, it’s time to celebrate,” he said, helping her into the cab.
Margaret froze as she settled onto the bench. Celebrate? Surely he didn’t mean—
“We’re goin’ to the cèilidh,” Ryan explained, apparently sensing the direction Margaret’s thoughts were going. “I’m sure Cali went on and on about it this mornin’ while she was gettin’ ye ready.”
“I’m sure she did,” Margaret agreed as she smoothed her skirt. Ryan sat next to her, his thigh brushing against hers as the carriage started moving. “I was a little distracted, though.”
“Aye, I imagine ye were,” Ryan said. Then, he brought his mouth close to her ear, lowering his voice even though they were the only two in the space. “Ye’re quite distractin’ lookin’ as bonnie as ye do. I cannae seem to take me eyes off ye.”
As he slid away slightly, putting a slight distance between the two of them, a shiver ran up Margaret’s spine. Her thighs pressed together, as if by some sort of instinct, and the pressure in her abdomen built.
This Highlander is going to be the death of me.