Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Emilie’s heart stuttered to a halt, and she stared at her father with an open, gaping mouth.
“Surely, ye arenae threatenin’ a house of God?”
Her hand fluttered to her chest as she stared at the man. She expected him to retract his words, to claim that was not what he had meant. But her father’s smile only widened, becoming more vicious as it threatened to split his cheeks.
“I assure ye,” he said, voice dripping in both malice and amusement, “it is nae just a threat. Because if ye daenae go and pack yer bags and leave with us, it will be yer reality.”
Emilie searched her father’s face, her eyes roving over his features, looking for any sign that he was lying, any sign that he did not mean what he was saying. But there was none.
Her father’s face was set with a savage determination, leaving Emilie with no doubt that he meant exactly what he’d said. Tears stung her eyes, and she bid them not to fall.
“I will go pack me things,” she murmured, turning on her heel and walking away without glancing again at her parents.
Emilie’s mind spun as she stalked toward the dormitory, a thousand thoughts all vying in her mind to be the loudest.
How had such terrible people birthed me?
How might I be able to get out of this marriage?
How will I do this and still keep me vows?
What about God?
Each thought made her stomach more and more nauseous, and by the time she reached her dormitory, a headache had begun to form right behind her eyes.
Shock flickered through her when she saw the dormitory wasn’t empty. She’d been certain that it would be, that all the girls would be downstairs, having their dinner as they waited for Emilie to return.
But Laura was there, sitting on Emilie’s bed, a strand of dark hair that had escaped her habit resting on her cheek. Her eyes flicked up the moment Emilie walked in the door, landing on her quickly, and Laura pushed off, standing to attention.
“What happened?” she asked immediately, her voice ferocious as she noticed the tears dancing in Emilie’s eyes.
The entire story fell from Emilie. No longer able to hold back her emotions, sobs wracked her chest as she told Laura everything.
With each word, the look on Laura’s face grew more and more grim. Emilie had begun packing while she spoke, throwing her few belongings in a cloth bag that had been waiting atop her bunk.
“There has to be a way out of this,” Laura hissed through gritted teeth, her bright eyes hard as they stared at Emilie.
“I daenae see how it’s possible,” Emilie muttered, swiping the back of her hand across her cheeks.
The pair was quiet for a moment. Emilie, finally finishing throwing her things in the knapsack provided, sat on her bed next to Laura.
Laura had arrived at Caledon Abbey only three years ago. But in that time, she and Emilie had become incredibly close. Emilie had always imagined that if she’d had a true sister, one that she’d shared blood with, she would have wanted her to be a lot like Laura.
I need to go. I cannae keep doddlin’, or me faither might just set flame to the Abbey to spite me.
“An annulment.” Laura’s voice was high as the idea coursed through her. “Convince the man to get an annulment. Be a nuisance to him, so he sends ye back. Annoy him. Be foolish. Be daft. Get an annulment.”
Emilie looked at Laura. She had no clue if she had it within her to do as her friend was instructing. But she nodded anyway.
She stood, holding her arms out to Laura with a grim look upon her face. The pair shared an embrace, and Emilie could only pray that Laura could not feel the shaking of her shoulders.
“Be safe,” Laura whispered in Emilie’s ear, giving her a final tight squeeze. “And go with God’s grace. We will pray for ye every day.”
A fresh set of tears burned Emilie’s throat as she let go of her friend, but she refused to let them fall. She would not give her parents the satisfaction.
She hardened her heart, turning away from Laura and walking out of the dormitory. She walked away from the dormitory, toward her parents. And all the while, one word was playing in her mind. One word that had ignited a tiny spark of hope that, try as she might, Emilie could not put out.
One word, that, while the carriage began to roll down the gravel drive, taking her away from the only true home and family she had ever known, started to spiral into a plan.
Annulment.
The spire of the church looked like it might pierce the sky as Emilie stared at it, gripping the skirts of her gown in her fist as she clambered out of her carriage.
“Would ye get a move on?” her father grunted from behind her, breathing heavily as he jostled about, trying to get his large form out of the cramped cabin of the carriage.
“Me apologies,” Emilie mumbled, averting her gaze to the ground as she stepped out of the way.
It had been like that for the entirety of the two days since Emilie had left the abbey. Her parents were constantly barking at her, giving her one order or another, and Emilie had to apologize and obey.
Her vows, even though she had not officially taken them, had been the only thing she had to focus on in order to find solace. And focus on them, she did.
“Lord, give me strength,” Emilie whispered to herself as she walked toward the church.
Two other carriages waited in front of the cathedral. Emilie assumed one of them must belong to her soon-to-be husband.
Archer Lynch, Laird of Clan McGregor.
His name rang through her mind. She had only finally learned it earlier that day, having heard the maids at her parents’ home whispering about it.
Apparently, he had a reputation for being a bit of a brute. A fact that had made Emilie want to vomit.
That same urge was welling inside her now as she walked through the doors of the church and into the stone halls. The soaring buttresses danced above her, stained glass windows casting merry colors on the floor as the sun shone through them.
All of it was at odds with the raging turmoil that was bubbling inside of her.
“Lord,” Emilie continued, hoping that now she was within a house of God, her prayers might reach him faster. “Grant me strength, grant me the ability to go with grace. Grant me the courage to do what I need to do to annul this marriage, and return to me life of servitude to ye.”
Bells chimed overhead, almost deafening as they echoed through the vast chambers. They startled Emilie from her prayers, grabbing her attention.
The bells were the only thing she had heard since her arrival. Which was odd, was it not?
By now, Emilie would have expected to hear a dull thrum of people talking. As a matter of fact, hadn’t there only been two carriages in front of the church? Shouldn’t there be more?
Have we arrived too early?
Emilie counted the number of bells chiming above. Twelve in total.
Noon.
Precisely the time the wedding was supposed to begin.
We arenae early, then.
The sound of a bagpipe filled the air, causing her hands to sweat. Her father came to stand by her side, mumbling something under his breath. Emilie did not care to try to understand him; she was too busy trying to calm her rapidly beating heart.
Breathe, she reminded herself, breathe and just try to get through this. Then, ye can find a way to try to get out of it.
Her father prodded her in the back, urging her forward to begin her march toward the aisle.
The moment they stepped into the cathedral itself, Emilie’s breath stuttered.
The large, cavernous room filled with the sound of an organ and bagpipes was almost entirely empty.
Her mother was in one of the pews, sitting at the very front of the church and facing forward. There were two other people on the right side of the aisle.
A man and a woman.
Unlike her mother, they were standing, staring at her with barely concealed interest.
The rest of the pews were entirely empty. And not just of people.
There were no decorations.
Typically, the crest of the clan would be displayed. Flowers would be everywhere, as well as sparkling gems and benches wrapped in tartan.
But there was none of that.
Ye would think the weddin’ of a laird would be a wee bit more extravagant.
At the thought of the Laird, Emilie’s eyes flicked to the front of the church, directly in front of her. She was close to the end of the aisle, and her eyes landed immediately on the man who was standing there, waiting for her.
Oh. But he’s handsome.
The thought caught her off guard, an unfamiliar flutter in her chest causing her to feel a little more breathless. Her gown was tight enough.
The stiff, thick fabric hugged her waist, outlining every bit of her curves. The tartan skirts that billowed around her feet left little room for air to slip through.
Although, mayhaps passin’ out at Laird McGregor’s feet may work in me favor. Surely he wouldnae marry an unconscious lass.
Her father passed Emilie off to him swiftly, as if he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. Closer to her new husband now, Emilie couldn’t deny that he looked like the type of man who wouldn’t care if she was unconscious or not.
He was tall, much taller than Emilie’s father or any of the few men she had ever seen making deliveries at the abbey. His dark hair had been brushed back from his face, secured at the nape of his neck with a thin strip of leather.
His cheekbones were high, a thin white scar running along the left side under his eyes. A well-trimmed beard adorned the bottom half of his face, framing plump, wide-set lips.
Emilie had never understood when the other girls would titter behind their hands at the sight of a man. Had never experienced the butterflies the other girls had claimed to feel, and had never daydreamed about what it might be like to catch their fancy.
All Emilie had ever believed was that men were simply a distraction put in her path, begging to take her focus away from where it truly belonged. Which was on God.
Laird McGregor, however, made her think that she might not be as immune to the charms of men as she had previously thought.
The music stopped as she stared up into the Laird’s face, his cold, gray eyes regarding her skeptically as the priest beside them began to speak.
“We have gathered today to join this man and this woman, before the eyes of God and Clan, in holy matrimony.”
The priest’s voice was nasal, turning into nothing more than the droning of bees in the back of Emilie’s mind as she withdrew into herself.
She couldn’t listen. She didn’t want to.
She didn’t want to hear the priest promising the Laird that she would obey him in everything that she did. That she would honor him.
No. Emilie’s vows were not for this man, this stranger who would claim dominion over her.
Emilie’s vows were for God and God alone.
And even though she might not be able to speak them, lest the priest and Laird McGregor overhear. She was able to think them.
I will continue to honor and obey ye, God. I will nae forsake ye, and will continue to walk in the steps ye have laid for me. I will remain pure, promisin’ meself only to ye.
I will find a way out of this marriage, maintainin’ me virtue. And I will find a way back to yer house, where I can dedicate me life to ye fully, the way that ye have always intended.
Laird McGregor moved forward, taking Emilie’s hand in his. The warmth of his touch pulled her from her thoughts, from the internal vows she was making to God above.
Before she could protest, the handfasting rope was wrapped around her wrist. The priest began to wind it around their clasped hands, winding it over and over as the handfasting ceremony was performed.
Emilie had heard of it, whispered as if it were something romantic from some of the other girls who had come to the abbey having already attended a wedding. But Emilie did not find it romantic in the slightest.
The rope chafed against her skin, the fibers digging into her wrist. She imagined them slipping into her flesh, embedding themselves as tiny reminders of the promise she was making to the stranger before her.
Emilie’s fingers began to tingle.
I want me hand back. I daenae want to do this.
She fought against the urge to rip her hand away, wishing nothing more than to pull it from Laird McGregor’s touch.
Her eyes focused on him. His aloof, gray eyes watched her almost wearily.
His face might be handsome, but his eyes have nae soul.
“Such as this rope has bound ye,” the priest droned on, his nasally voice echoing in the nearly empty nave. “So shall yer vows to each other. I now pronounce ye man and wife. Ye may kiss yer bride.”
Emilie’s stomach went sour. In all the time she had spent thinking of her impending wedding, she had forgotten about the kiss.
Her heart was racing, her eyes searching the face of the man before her. An amused grin tugged up the corners of his mouth, and Emilie’s heart ran cold.
Nay. I daenae want to do this. What about me promise to God? What about….
“Nice to meet ye, wife.”
Laird McGregor’s voice was like poisoned honey. It was deep and intoxicating, filled with dark implications that made something tug low in her belly.
It also made her want to lean in, despite the protest going on in her mind.
The Laird moved forward, his hand still wrapped around hers, tugging them closer. Emilie’s entire body was on alert, every nerve within her firing quickly as Archer Lynch leaned in.
And then, his mouth met hers, driving all thoughts from her mind.