Page 55 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
“Bad?Are ye serious?” Paisley cleared her throat. “Cecilia, ye look… ye look?—”
“Beautiful,” Mairie interjected, her voice thick and her eyes beginning to water too. “Just… beautiful. Extraordinary, really. I dinnae think I’ve ever seen a lovelier bride.”
Cecilia smoothed her hands down the front of her wedding gown, struggling to remember to take deep breaths. It was not the wedding day she had dreamed of, though she had never really dreamed of her wedding anyway. Still, she rather envied those brides who were excited to meet their grooms at the altar.
“If yer maither could see ye…” Mairie said more quietly, her voice hitching. “And yer grandmaither. Och, they’d have fallen to pieces.”
A horrible realization struck Cecilia at that moment as she thought of the family she had lost—those who should have been there but were not.
“I… dinnae have anyone to give me away,” she whispered, almost to herself. “Me faither… I dinnae have anyone to give me away.”
That surge of panic threatened to snare her in its current again as she looked at Paisley, then Mairie, then Aileen as if they could somehow fix the impossible problem. But even the godliest woman—a Mother Superior, no less—could not bring people back from the dead.
“I’ll give ye away,” Mairie promised. “It’d be an honor.”
Cecilia took a breath, but it was not deep enough. And every breath after refused to properly fill her lungs, leaving her wheezing.
“I’m grateful to ye, Auntie,” she managed to utter, heading for the door. “If ye’ll excuse me, I just need some air.”
She scurried out, and, to her relief, no one tried to follow her.
As she wandered the upper hallways, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, her breaths began to even out again, and the swimming sensation in her head began to ease. Her legs stopped shaking, and her empty stomach ceased churning, while the fog in her mind slowly cleared.
It willnae be so bad. I wanted me freedom, did I nae? That’s what I’m gettin’, so it’s me fault for nae bein’ careful what I prayed for.
She mustered a half smile at that and paused beside a wall, leaning against it to catch her breath.
“Oh!”
The soft cry of surprise echoed down the hallway, and Cecilia raised her head… and heaved a sigh of relief.
“Dinnae mind me,” she said. “I’m just decidin’ how much rope I’d need to tie together to be able to reach the ground from that window over there.”
Tara chuckled, coming to stand beside her. “Ye must be nervous, eh?”
“Honestly, I cannae decide whether I’m nervous or hungry,” Cecilia admitted, putting on what she hoped was a show of courage. “Ye look nice.”
“As do ye,” Tara said, smiling. “Actually, ye look incredible. If Murdoch doesnae fall desperately in love when he sees ye, then I ken that countless other men will. Ye’ll be breakin’ hearts, Cecilia.”
Cecilia forced a laugh. “Then it’s a pity I’m breakin’ them on me weddin’ day. They should’ve spoken up sooner.”
Tara observed her for a short while, a look of consternation etched on her pretty face as if she was trying to decide whether she should be honest or continue the jovial conversation.
Cecilia let the silence stretch on between them, waiting patiently.
“Cecilia, can I be frank?” Tara asked, at last.
“Of course.”
“If… If ye’re also afraid of Murdoch and what he might do, then I can always create a diversion to help ye escape. I ken how terrifyin’ he can be, and if I were in yer position, I’d be inconsolable.” Tara gulped. “I ken I asked why ye werenae excited about yer weddin’ the other day, but I understood why ye werenae. I wouldnae be excited either. I’d be afra?—”
“I’m nae afraid,” Cecilia interrupted, surprised to find that she meant it. “I’m nae afraid of Murdoch at all. In fact, I’m contemplatin’ whether I should kick him in the shins or knee him where it’ll truly hurt when I meet him at the altar, since he’s the one who put us in this mess by essentially tellin’ me that we were goin’ to marry.”
Tara’s eyes widened, and, a moment later, she burst into rich, merry laughter that seemed to warm the hallways. As it did, it warmed Cecilia too, reminding her once more that things were not so bad. Rather, things could always be worse.
I likely wouldnae mind marryin’ him at all if he hadnae said it would be a white marriage.
She frowned, trying to imagine what sort of mood she would be in if he hadnotput that proviso into place. Would she be excited about the wedding night? Would she be eager to learn more about him? Would she be looking forward to the wedding itself, instead of feeling like she was just fulfilling an obligation?
