Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Iwill miss ye, truly,” Arianna said.
The castle courtyard was alive with the creak of harness and the soft snort of horses as the McDonald carriage waited by the gates.
Morning mist clung to the stones, and banners stirred gently in the cool air.
Arianna stood with her family, her hands clasped tightly before her as though holding herself together by sheer will.
Her chest ached with the weight of what was ending and what had already begun.
Her mother drew her close, cupping her face with trembling hands. “Ye must write me, Arianna,” Eilidh said, her voice thick. “Write often, so I ken ye’re well.”
Arianna nodded, tears spilling despite her effort to be brave. “I will, Mother,” she said softly. “I swear it, every chance I get.”
Hugh stepped forward next, his expression tight with restraint. “I should’ve done more,” he said quietly.
Arianna shook her head at once. “Nay, Hugh,” she replied, gripping his hands. “This wasnae yer burden alone, and I’ll be all right.”
Marcus followed, pulling her into a fierce embrace. “If ye’re mistreated, ye write us first,” he said roughly. “We’ll come.”
From the edge of the courtyard, Arianna saw Ian standing apart, watching with a stillness that made him seem carved from stone. Hugh straightened his jaw, set as he crossed the space between them. Arianna’s breath caught as she watched her brother stop before her husband.
“I expect me sister to be treated with respect,” Hugh said, his voice low but firm.
Ian’s eye flicked briefly toward Arianna before settling back on Hugh. “She will have the best care as Lady McGuire,” he replied coolly. “If ye simply look around ye, ye’ll see riches are nae scarce here.”
Hugh leaned closer, undeterred. “There are things more important than riches,” he said quietly.
Ian did not answer. His silence was heavy, unreadable, and after a long moment, Hugh stepped back.
Arianna’s heart twisted as she heard the exchange end without peace or promise.
Ian turned slightly away, as though the matter were finished, and the distance between them felt wider than the courtyard itself.
Her mother returned to her then, tears openly falling now. “Ye are me only daughter,” Eilidh whispered, pressing her forehead to Arianna’s. “No matter where ye are, ye carry me heart with ye.”
Arianna broke then, clutching her mother tightly. “I daenae want to leave ye,” she sobbed. “But I’ll make ye proud. I promise.”
Eilidh kissed her hair again and again, as though memorizing the feel of her.
“Be strong,” she said. “But daenae forget ye’re allowed to be soft too.
” Arianna nodded, wiping her cheeks, committing every word to memory.
When at last her mother stepped away, it felt like something inside her tore loose.
She watched as Hugh helped Eilidh into the carriage, then Marcus climbed in after her.
Hugh turned back one last time, lifting a hand in farewell.
Arianna raised hers in return, her vision blurring as the carriage lurched forward.
The wheels rolled over the stones, carrying her family farther and farther away until the road swallowed them whole.
The courtyard felt suddenly vast and empty. Arianna stood alone, the sounds of the castle fading into a dull hush. A sharp truth settled over her then, heavy and undeniable. She was truly alone now, bound to a place and a man she barely knew.
She turned slowly and looked to Ian. He met her gaze and gave a single, curt nod.
Without a word, he turned and walked away, his long strides carrying him back toward the castle door.
Arianna remained where she was, drawing a steadying breath, knowing that whatever awaited her next, she would have to meet it on her own.
An hour later, Arianna sat upon the edge of the great bed, her hair loose down her back, the chamber too quiet now that her family was gone.
The fire crackled low, yet it brought her little comfort, and she stared at the carved chest as though it might speak to her.
Her hands twisted in her lap, and her chest felt hollow with the absence of familiar voices.
She told herself she must grow accustomed to such silences, for they would be many.
A soft knock sounded at the door, gentle as a question. Arianna lifted her head. “Enter.”
Melissa slipped inside, her arms laden with cleansing cloths. Melissa’s expression was kind, but brisk, as though sorrow were a thing that could be outpaced. She closed the door quietly behind her.
“Ye’re nae meant to sit alone too long, me lady,” Melissa said, setting the clothes upon a chair. “It lets the sadness grow teeth.”
Arianna managed a small smile and said, “It already has, I fear.”
Melissa clicked her tongue and shook her head.
“I’m here to get ye ready,” Melissa said, clapping her hands once. “The Laird’s takin’ ye out this afternoon.”
Arianna blinked in surprise and asked, “Out? Where exactly is he takin’ me?” Her voice held more wariness than curiosity. Then she remembered they were scheduled for one of their outings the day after the wedding. In her sorrow, she had forgotten.
“To the village,” Melissa replied easily. “Ye’ll be gettin’ a new wardrobe.”
Arianna straightened at once and said, “That willnae be necessary, I’ve plenty of gowns already.” She glanced toward her trunk as proof.
Melissa laughed outright. “Plenty for a lass, aye, but nay for a McGuire lady,” she said. “It’s custom.”
Arianna frowned and asked, “Custom for what, exactly?” Her tone sharpened despite herself.
“The Laird must provide ye a full new wardrobe within the week,” Melissa explained. “If he doesnae, he forfeits his claim.”
Arianna stared at her, incredulous, and said, “That’s silly.” The word left her mouth before she could soften it.
“So, I said the first time I heard it,” Melissa replied, unbothered. “But it’s the law of the clan.”
Arianna shook her head slowly, trying to imagine such a thing being enforced. She muttered, “Men and their ridiculous rules.”
Melissa began sorting through layers of fabric as she spoke. “Four generations back, the Laird fell in love with a lady who loved fine things more than sense,” she said. “She made him promise her silks and jewels, and when folk complained, she had the law written.”
Arianna gave a short, humorless laugh.
“So all this is because one woman was vain?” Arianna asked. “Seems a heavy price for the rest of ye to pay.”
Melissa grinned and said, “Aye, but ye’ll nay hear many complainin’ when the chests are full.”
Arianna sighed, knowing protest would do her no good.
Melissa lifted the first shift and held it open. “Come now, arms up,” she instructed gently. Arianna obeyed, the linen cool against her skin as it slipped into place. She let herself be moved and turned as though she were already learning the habits of a Laird’s wife.
Next came the stays, sturdy and unyielding. Melissa drew the laces tight, careful but firm, and Arianna sucked in a breath. “It always feels like I’m bein’ trussed for market.”
Melissa chuckled and said, “Aye, truth in yer words.”
Layer by layer, the gown took shape upon her. A woolen underskirt, then another, each heavier than the last, settled around her hips. Arianna watched Melissa’s hands work swiftly, practiced from years of dressing other women. She said quietly, “Me mother never laced me so tight.”
“She was yer mother,” Melissa replied. “I’m yer dresser.”
Arianna snorted despite herself, and the sound eased something in her chest. She allowed herself to relax as the sash was wrapped and tied.
Melissa brushed Arianna’s hair until it shone, then parted it with care. She braided it neatly, fingers flying, and wove small dried flowers through the plaits. “For luck,” she said simply.
Arianna touched them and murmured, “They smell like the hills.”
“They should,” Melissa said. “That’s where they came from.” She adjusted the bodice once more and stepped back to inspect her work. Arianna scarcely recognized herself in the mirror.
As Melissa fastened the final clasp, Arianna asked, “What is the village like?” Her voice held a note of timid hope.
Melissa smiled and said, “Busy, loud, and full of folk who’ll stare at ye.”
Arianna grimaced faintly.
“I’m nay sure I care for that,” Arianna admitted.
Melissa shrugged and replied, “They’ll stare cause yer the new Lady.” She placed a shawl about Arianna’s shoulders with a gentler touch. “But they’ll also bow.”
“Do they like him?” she asked quietly.
Melissa paused, then said, “They respect him.” The distinction was not lost on Arianna.
She rose slowly, testing the weight of the garments. The rustle of fabric followed her every movement, a reminder of the role she was meant to play.
Arianna drew a steadying breath and said, “Very well, then.” Melissa opened the door and gestured her forward.
“Let’s nay keep the laird waitin’,” Melissa said.
Arianna stepped into the corridor, her sadness tucked beneath silk and wool. Whatever awaited her in the village, she would meet it as Lady McGuire.
Ian stood at the gate with the reins looped loose in his gloved hand, the two horses shifting and snorting in the afternoon light. He had chosen the steadier mare for Arianna and his own black gelding beside it, though he barely noticed his careful planning when she appeared at the archway.
The sight of her halted his breath more surely than any blade ever had. He told himself, sharply, that admiration was allowed, but indulgence was not.
She walked toward him with measured steps, her hair braided and threaded with small flowers.
The sunlight caught in those braids, and Ian found himself thinking it would be a trial to keep any vow with her so near.
He straightened his shoulders. A Laird should not stare at his wife like a besotted lad.
“Ye’re… punctual,” he said, forcing his voice into its usual even tone.
Arianna lifted her chin and replied, “I was told nae to keep ye waitin’.”
There was something cautious in her eyes, and it pricked him more than he expected. He inclined his head, accepting the rebuke he had not earned but did not protest.
“We’ll be ridin’ to the next village,” Ian said, turning slightly toward the road. “It’s near an hour’s ride, but they’ve the finest seamstress for three glens.”
Arianna glanced toward the horses and murmured, “All this trouble for a law that makes nae sense.” Her lips curved faintly, though her tone was dry.
Ian gave a short, crooked smirk. “On that, we agree,” he said. “I’ve tried twice to repeal it, and twice the council told me to keep me hands off tradition.” He snorted under his breath and added, “So we’ll both just have to deal with it.”
Arianna’s eyes widened a fraction, then she laughed despite herself.
“I never thought ye’d say such a thing,” she said.
Ian shrugged one shoulder and replied, “Marriage does strange things to a man.” The words lingered between them, heavier than he intended. He cleared his throat and gestured toward the mare.
“Will ye ride?” he asked. Arianna nodded and stepped closer, and Ian reached for her without thinking. His hands closed around her hips to steady her, firm and sure, and the warmth of her startled him. He inhaled, catching the scent of soap and crushed flowers, and nearly cursed aloud.
For a heartbeat too long, he held her there.
Her body was light beneath his hands, yet the awareness of her weight sent a pulse through him he had not felt in years.
Ian told himself to loosen his grip, to behave, to remember his word.
With visible effort, he lifted her into the saddle and stepped back at once.
Arianna settled herself, fingers tightening on the reins. “Thank ye,” she said quietly, and her voice seemed closer than before.
Ian answered with a stiff nod, refusing to look at the curve of her mouth. He swung onto his own horse with more force than necessary.
They rode out through the gates together, the castle falling behind them stone by stone. The road stretched wide and green, bordered by heather and low stone walls. For a time, only the sound of hooves filled the space between them. Ian welcomed the silence, though it did little to calm him.
At last Arianna spoke. “Are all the villages so far?” she asked.
Ian shook his head and said, “Nay, there’s one closer, but I’ll nae have ye dressed by anyone less than the best.” He glanced at her sideways and added, “They’ll measure ye proper, nae rush the work.”
Arianna’s shoulders eased slightly at that.
“I suppose that’s some comfort,” she said. “Still, it feels foolish to buy what I may never need.”
Ian frowned and replied, “Ye’ll need it.” There was more certainty in his voice than he meant to give.
They passed a stream, sunlight flashing on the water. Arianna watched it a moment and said, “I daenae ken this land yet.”
Ian answered, “Ye will.” The promise slipped out before he considered it.
Her gaze flicked to him, curious but guarded. “Do ye truly believe that?” she asked.
Ian met her eyes this time and said, “Aye.” He did not explain further, trusting the word to stand on its own.
As they rode, he became acutely aware of every small movement she made. The sway of her body matched the mare’s stride, graceful and unselfconscious. He told himself to look ahead, to think of council matters and crops and stone walls in need of repair. None of it held.
Arianna broke the silence again. “Do they stare? The villagers?” she asked.
Ian smiled faintly and said, “They always do.” He added, gentler, “But they’ll be kind, if ye are.”
She nodded, absorbing that. The village roofs came into view in the far distance, smoke rising lazily into the sky. Ian felt a strange feeling, knowing the ride would soon end. He reined his horse in slightly, matching her pace. Duty, he reminded himself, was easier to bear when shared.
As they approached the bridge toward the village, he said, “Stay close to me.”
Arianna answered, “I will.” The simple exchange settled something between them, fragile but real. Ian straightened in his saddle, prepared to face the world with her at his side.