Chapter 28 #2
At first, he seemed to have accepted her decision, but soon she realized just how treacherous he could be.
He went behind her back to consult with her father.
She had repeated her decision to her father.
She had expected him to protect and respect her decision, but she must have overestimated the remaining shred of his integrity because in no time, he was coercing her to marry Lord Westall, without giving her any reasons.
She had not been willing to sacrifice her happiness for his comfort, and yet she had found herself forced to the altar.
By all means, this wedding was supposed to be different compared to her first trip down the aisle. She did care about her groom and wanted to marry him because she thought he felt the same, but that was before he had reduced the vows that they were about to speak to duty.
“Are ye well?” Keira asked from beside her, watching her with a concerned expression.
“Yes,” Violet replied, forcing a smile for the little girl’s benefit.
“Ye look verra bonny. I am verra sure Da wouldnae be able to look away,” Keira said with an excited chuckle.
Violet maintained her smile, feeling the strain in her cheeks.
She could see through Keira’s efforts. It was obvious that the girl had felt the tension between her and her father.
Violet wondered if Ruaridh would ever look at her with adoring eyes, her presence not already a reminder of her father’s betrayal.
A part of her was tempted to run away, far away from this union and the constant judgment she was going to see in his eyes for a time, but she refused to give in to cowardice.
She knew the damage surrendering to one’s fear could cause.
Standing up, she made her way outside. Her father took her arm, and they walked towards the castle doors. The closer they got, the more nervous she grew, her hand trembling. She instinctively tightened her grip on his sleeve.
In that moment, she was grateful for her father’s presence, for it grounded her.
“You look beautiful,” he told her with a proud smile, his eyes shining as if he were fighting back tears.
He did mean it. She was his only child after all, and she was marrying and staying permanently in the Highlands, which was miles away from England. Despite her reservations, she was going to miss him. Immensely.
Overcome with emotion, she simply nodded in reply, not trusting her voice. When the doors opened, she saw the clansmen gathered inside the chapel and the priest standing on the top of the raised dais in front of the hall..
Ruaridh was there too, standing at the foot of the stairs, and he was watching her. Even from a distance, she could feel the intensity of his gaze, even though she could not read his expression.
“You know you can change your mind,” her father said quietly beside her, drawing her gaze. “I might not have been a great father in recent times, but if you say the word, I would take you away from here.”
“You do not have to, Papa. I want to marry him.” She smiled in gratitude.
She gripped his sleeve, and they stepped forward, making their way towards the raised dais in the chapel amidst murmurs.
She knew that asides Logan, none of the other clansmen had witnessed her father’s treachery but perhaps the news had spread as the murmurs she was now hearing were far from friendly.
She could feel the heat of their gazes on the nape of her neck, and shame tied her stomach in knots. Through it all, she kept her head up, walking down the aisle with confidence. She had not come this far to crumble easily before paltry criticism.
When they got to the stairs, Ruaridh held her gaze even while her father placed her hand in his. The heat of his grip sent the butterflies in her belly into confused flight.
It was mortifying just how easily he could upset her composure with a simple touch, even now, when the tenderness was missing from his eyes.
Breaking their gaze, she stared at his chest and the brooch that was at her eye level. It was shaped to resemble the petals of heather, pinned to his kilt.
He definitely looked distinguished today, his charm even more overpowering
“Are ye sure about this?” he asked quietly, the tenderness in his voice at odds with the heat of his gaze.
“I am willing,” she replied, her voice trembling.
He squeezed her hand, offering her comfort in this moment, even when his ability to trust her had been bruised.
The murmuring died down as the priest stepped forward with a piece of cloth in his hands dyed in the muted green and yellow of the clan.
“Give me yer hands,” he said.
Clasping their hands together, he tied the cloth tightly.
“Say yer vows,” he added, before stepping back and gesturing towards Ruaridh.
“I, Ruaridh Sinclair of Clan McLeod, in front of me clansmen, take ye Violet Wilkinson to be me wife. To share me life with ye and to stand with ye in everything life brings.”
His vows were simple but were made powerful in the conviction with which he stared into her eyes. She recognized that he was determined to keep this promise, even if he could not fully trust her in this moment.
The priest cleared his throat, reminding her that she had to say her vows as well.
“I, Violet,” she began.
Her next words were stolen from her mouth because in the next moment, chaos erupted in the crowd, and a group of armed men dressed in red coats came forward.
It was suspicious because she knew her father had not had the time to invite people from England. Now, she threw a glance in his direction, and he looked just as confused as she felt.
Her question was answered when the crowd parted to reveal a man she would have preferred never to set eyes on.
Lord Westall.
“Unhand her at once,” Lord Westall barked when he stopped in front of them. “I have come to take my bride back.”
Looking at the red-coat-armed shoulders he had come with, it was easy to understand his audacity. Under normal circumstances, he would never have had the guts to challenge Ruaridh, at least not on his turf.
“Well, anyone would agree that she is me bride, seeing as she freely agreed to marry me.”
“That is because you kidnapped her. I was sent here with the authority of the Queen to return the good lady to her people. The ton eagerly awaits her safe return, and the Crown seeks to bear the expenses of our marriage.”
So he was to be a hero retelling the story while painting himself to be the aggrieved groom who had to watch his bride be kidnapped. Somehow, he had even dragged the case all the way to the Crown, even though Violet suspected that the red coats were not genuine.
“I cannae give ye me wife,” Ruaridh declared stiffly.
What ensued was chaos.
Pushing the priest away, the Englishmen surrounded them. Ruaridh tried to keep her by his side, for which he received blow after blow.
In no time, every man present was exchanging blows with the Englishmen.
Violet stepped back to protect herself. Suddenly, cold fingers curled around her hand, and when she looked up, it was to find Lord Westall looking down at her with a sly smile. His smile turned cold as he tightened his grip and dragged her away.
Screaming, she fought while casting wild eyes around in the hope of catching someone’s eye, but her father and Ruaridh were locked in fierce battle and could not spare her a glance.
She understood now what Lord Westall’s plan was: divide and conquer. But she had no intention to make it easy for him.