Chapter 13
Kira was dressed and readied for the ceremony with dizzying speed.
Maids had fetched her from Hunter’s chambers and hurried her back to her own where she was scrubbed, perfumed, powdered, and had her hair braided with the speed and skill of four maids surrounding her at all times.
She had only managed to steal a glimpse of herself in her wedding garb—a gown and bodice made entirely in Galbraith tartan, her white blonde hair made into draping braids that met in the back where her hair was pulled into a ponytail and curled; her face was lightly powdered and a bit of stain applied to her lips to make them a few shades redder.
She was led to the Grand Hall, where it seemed the entire clan was waiting for her.
The moment the doors opened and she was met with the crowds of leering faces and skeptical scowls, Kira’s heart leapt into her throat and her mind begged her to run instead of treading further into the den of wolves.
Her stomach churned with bile and fear. Everyone hated her in this clan, and she was about to be one of them.
Would she be looked at like the runt of the litter? Trampled and left in the cold, looked at as anything less than equal.
Kira felt her body stiffen, feeling as though her feet were growing roots into the ground beneath her.
And then, one of the maids behind her gave her a push and she was stumbling forward into the Grand Hall.
Her heart was pounding in her ears and her eyes went wild, hopping from face to face at all those staring at her.
The bagpipes hummed to life and everything was set in motion before her.
She moved forward while her body screamed for her to run away.
But then her eyes found Hunter at the altar.
He stood tall and confident, his face relaxed; he too adorned the Galbraith tartan with a matching sash and kilt.
His honey-brown hair was neatly combed and pushed back, and his hazel eyes were steady on her.
Hunter was beautiful and regal and perfect—and terrifying.
His intensity was overwhelming at best and his emotions were too fickle to ever be of much comfort.
His eyes never left her, and it was comforting in a strange way.
Focusing on him, on his conflicting feelings, was easier and more familiar than all the eyes on her.
And as she neared him, his face never shifting from the neutral, composed expression, Kira felt a flutter of hope in her stomach.
Could it be possible that their night together had changed something in him?
The priest started the ceremony when Kira and Hunter held hands, but all the biblical passages were in one ear and out the other for Kira.
She was lost in her attempt at trying to get a read on Hunter.
Even his hands were firm and steady, giving absolutely nothing away.
He wasn’t gripping her like he was prepared to restrain her if she tried to run.
She was only broken from her reverie when the priest instructed them to repeat after him. Hunter maintained steady eye contact as he said everything the priest instructed.
“I take ye, Kira, as my wife. To have and hold, in life and death. To love in sickness and health. And to protect from friend and foe. I am bound to ye evermore in name, in law, and spirit.”
Those weren’t the traditional vows—they were close, but they had been altered and she knew it had been at Hunter’s request. A shiver ran up her spine, but it wasn’t out of fear. It was something more, something… satisfying. That he would be hers as much as she was his.
“Repeat after me, M’Lady,” the priest said. “I take ye, Hunter Galbraith as my husband. To obey, to cherish, to have.”
Her eyes flickered between the old, balding priest and Hunter.
She thought their vows would be the same, but they weren’t.
Was this simply to appease the masses they stood before, or did he truly expect obedience from her?
Kira was swearing these things not just to herself and Hunter, but to all of Clan Galbraith and God.
She expected Hunter to snap out of annoyance, wanting her to get it over with, but he appeared patient. Kira desperately searched his eyes, longing to know what it all meant.
“M’Lady?” the priest whispered.
Kira blinked rapidly and cleared her throat. Hunter’s hands gave hers a squeeze and her heart fluttered in response. “I take ye, Hunter Galbraith, as my husband. To obey, to cherish, to have. To love in sickness and in health. I am bound to ye evermore in name, in law, and spirit.”
Kira repeated the words, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. And there it was, she was officially Hunter’s. There was no more running away, no more plotting grand escapes. No matter where she went, even if she fled the country, her soul belonged to Hunter Galbraith at last.
“Ye may now kiss the bride,” the priest said.
A flash of a wicked grin was on Hunter’s face before he let go of her hands and took hold of her face.
His lips crashed into hers, hard and tender all at once.
She could taste the longing, the passion, the satisfaction as though they were spices on his tongue.
Her heart stammered and her breath was stolen away by how all-consuming the kiss was.
She melted into it, kissing him back with the same fervor.
The applause for the union was, as expected, muted if not a little forced. When Hunter pulled away from the kiss and turned to face the crowd, the cheers increased in volume.
There wasn’t any time to ponder it, as they were ushered into the adjoining hall where a feast and musicians awaited them.
The tables were decorated in bouquets of wildflowers; vibrant purple and white petals of columbine blooms, the delicate tufts of alexanders, cheerful yellow cups of cowslips, and the darling light pink cuckooflowers.
The clan colors were everywhere they could be snuck in.
Ribbons about the flowers, tablerunners, and tapestries hung on every wall.
Some in tartan, others in solid colors featured in the field of navy and emerald.
The feast began, but Kira didn’t really taste her food.
Her thoughts jumped around as she took bites, sipped wine, and listened to elders and community leaders give speeches and blessings, all of which were targeted at Hunter and their trust in his judgment instead of at the couple and their future.
Should she really mind that the day wasn’t about her?
While most brides longed for their wedding day, Kira really should only be glad that people weren’t outwardly attacking her or giving her sneers.
Then again, she was officially an extension of Hunter so to insult her would be to insult him.
He was her shield as well as her shackles.
A prominent stare at the side of her face caught her attention and she turned to scan for the eyes.
And there she was, Edine; adorned in a beautiful gown of the clan tartan with lots of underskirts to give her a full skirt that swayed with each of her movements.
The woman smiled at Kira, a knowing little smile that was filled with hope for her and Hunter’s joined future.
But Kira couldn’t feel that positivity when everything around her told her she didn’t belong, that nothing would ever change.
Hunter suddenly clasped her hand. Looking up at him, Hunter’s hazel eyes gave nothing away while he merely gestured with a tilt of his chin to the dance floor.
Normally, she would have tried to get out of it but she was desperate for the distraction from her own thoughts.
She followed his lead as they took to the middle of the dance floor and positioned themselves to dance.
Arms length apart, with two hands pressed together.
His skin was warm and rough, yet inviting.
They didn’t say a word to each other, but Kira noticed that he was relaxed, and his expression wasn’t pinched with a scowl.
The room fell to a hush for a moment before Hunter motioned to the band with a wave of his hand to play them a song.
Sweet, twangy notes and soft pattering drums filled the quiet hall, and the couple moved to the rhythm.
With their hands still pressed together, they walked in a wide circle before coming together to swap the hands that were touching.
Only, instead of simply staying palm to palm, Hunter’s fingers intertwined with hers.
And as they circled one another again, his other hand found its way to her waist, brushing along its curve and dip before falling away.
Jolts of electricity surged through her from the provocative touches.
To touch her so boldly in front of everyone felt like claiming—and very intentional.
Kira’s eyes lifted to his. He was forever unreadable, but there was a slight smirk on his lips.
Everything with Hunter felt like a mental game, but this one filled her with intrigue instead of dread.
At the next rotation, she let her fingertips meet the crook of his arm and glide down to his palm.
Just how far could this little game go with the entire clan watching them?
The music changed tempo, signaling for others to join in the dance.
Couples swirled all around them. Laughter and chatter mixed with the music to create a lively atmosphere.
People were closer, lingering eyes certain to pick up on the little flirtations they dared pass between each other.
It added a layer of danger, of excitement—and of hope.
The music changed again, bringing the dance to a slower, more romantic melody.
As he pulled her in, his thumb rubbed into the fabric of her dress over her hip, sending shivers straight into her core.
She could see the gleam in his eyes, the want.
It made her mind flash with images and sensations of their night together, and her cheeks heated in their wake.
For the proper dance formation, Kira held her skirt outward in one hand as they spun.
Instead of their other hands being pressed together, however, his remained on her hip and hers rested on his chest. A tickle of his collarbone, a graze of her inner thigh with his outstretched fingertips.
She was breathless and heady and left wanting more of his touch.
“Did ye mean what ye said?” she whispered to him as they twirled about.
“What did I say?” he questioned in a murmur.
“Yer vows.”
The words jolted something in him—she knew because he flinched.
Hunter flinched at her words. It was slight, but they were too close together for it to go undetected by her.
Then, he sighed and swept her around in a close rotation and brought his lips to her ear.
“My vows are nae promises of the present.”
Just like that, the heady spell she had been under was broken. All the hope she had been feeling over the course of the last day was nothing but foolish ambition.
Hunter still didn’t love her.
He might lust for her, but she wasn’t so immature as to mistake that for honest affection.
A truth sat cold and heavy in her chest: he would never fully abandon his hatred for her.
It would forever cast an ominous shadow over their marriage, and no matter efforts she put in, she would never be forgiven for her inaction of the past.
The crowds grew closer as partners began to switch, and as soon as Hunter and Kira’s hands parted to join the others in dance, she slipped away.
Knitting her way through the crowd, Kira moved steadily so as not to draw too much attention to herself.
Her mind was blank other than the sole objective to hurry back to her bedchamber, longing for solitude.
And while she gained some odd glances as she moved down the corridors, no one bothered to stop her.
She was the unwanted bride of Galbraith.
Unwanted by the clan, unwanted by her groom.