Page 88 of The Wrong Bride
“I think you must be in love because you’re even more beautiful,” Cat said.
Her voice had a wistfulness that surprised Riona. Her cousin had always been so independent, wanting to do as she pleased before having to settle into a man’s home. Riona only hoped that she could make Cat see that marriage wasn’t such a bad thing . . . if one could overlook the kidnapping part.
The three women descended to the great hall, and Riona inhaled with shock. She’d never seen the large room decorated for such a feast, with colorful tapestries and banners on the wall, every torch lit, and at least a hundred people gathered. How had Hugh reached so many people in so little time? They’d all come for him, their chief.
Hugh was standing with Owen on the dais, and they looked anything but at ease with each other. But the earl seemed to relax upon seeing Maggie, as if he’d been worried she might change her mind. He guided her to a seat beside him, and she gave him a polite smile. With a sigh, Riona turned away from them, knowing that she would help her future sister-in-law all she could.
Hugh was looking down upon her with such seriousness that she felt a pang of worry. But the frown faded from his brow, and he bent over her hand.
“Do ye trust me?” he whispered.
He stared up at her with those gray eyes she’d once thought of as winter cold, but she now understood the thaw as if it were springtime between them, a time of beginnings.
“I trust you with all my heart,” she answered quietly.
And then he straightened, and still holding her hand, called for attention in a voice that wasn’t overly loud, but rang with command. Everyone went silent, as if they’d been waiting for this moment. Riona felt as if even breathing would disturb the pregnant stillness.
“I’d like to introduce ye to my wife, Riona Duff.”
There was a cheer, but it died away in confusion.
“Aye, ye knew her as my betrothed, but I’ve taken her to wife in the ways of our ancestors, but this will be no trial marriage. We’ll have it blessed before the priest.”
At last he smiled at Riona, and she gave him a tremulous smile in return. Whatever he said next, she knew it would be for the best.
“But I tell ye this because Riona was not the bride I’d been promised since childhood. Her cousin Lady Catriona was.”
He gestured to Cat, who blushed to the roots of her hair, but kept her chin high. Owen’s face was a mask of impassivity, but his eyes blazed as he stared at Hugh.
In the hall, the dead silence had returned, along with sidelong looks of uneasiness. Riona knew that they were remembering the terms of the contract, and what its sundering would mean to them.
Hugh took both her hands, and though he spoke to the hall, he looked only at her. “From the moment I saw Riona, I knew I had to have her to wife,” he said, his voice rough. “I felt a passion and a destiny that I could not deny. I did not forget the contract between our clans, but I knew that I would find away to come to terms with Aberfoyle. While I did this, I kept the truth a secret from everyone, and I regret that it was necessary. Fear not, for the contract remains between our families. Lady Catriona will have her pick of husbands, a decision she welcomes making on her own.”
Cat gave a real smile to Hugh for the first time, and Riona felt the last of her tension fade away.
Hugh continued, “My sister, Maggie, will become the earl’s bride, and both of our marriages will heal the rift begun hundreds of years ago between McCallum and Duff.”
The cheer at those words was deafening, and even Owen looked surprised. He glanced at Maggie, who met his gaze, and it held for so long, Riona had to look away, feeling as embarrassed as if she’d seen them kissing. She knew there wasn’t love there yet, but they had . . . something.
Hugh lifted thecuachup high. “This whisky, the water of life, has also helped heal the past.” He took a long sip, then passed it to Owen, who didn’t hesitate to drink it.
When the cup passed her, Riona took hold of it, to Hugh’s obvious surprise.
“Ye don’t have to drink it, lass,” he murmured. “I remember how it tasted to ye.”
“I’m your wife, Hugh McCallum, and I’ll do as I please.”
Laughter spread out around her, and she took asip—a tiny one—of the whisky. She nodded, holding her breath, trying not to cough as it burned down her throat.
“That is good,” she said hoarsely, and passed it to Maggie.
Hugh grinned and took her hand. “Come with me, Riona.”
The redness from the whisky turned into a hot blush. “Hugh, we can’t leave yet,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “Then come stand outside with me.”
He led her through the crowd, and people briefly clasped her hand or wished them well. At last they were outside on the landing, where torches lit the castle, but the stairs still seemed to go down into darkness.
