Page 33 of The Devil in Plaid
Julia led her down a winding staircase to the solar.“Wait here, my lady,” she instructed before dipping into a quick curtsy. Then she hastened from the room.
Fiona sat down in one of the high-backed chairs near the fire. The flames flickered in a dance, drawing her gaze.
It was her wedding day, but instead of feeling hopeful and excited, she was terrified.
A fresh rush of tears flooded her eyes. If only her wedding could wait until Esme and Abby arrived. Having them by her side would bolster her courage. But that was not to be.
She was both bride and enemy.
There would be no one who even thought well of her at the ceremony, not to mention, someone who might love her.
She fisted her hands together and straightened her spine. “For my people,” she whispered.
Taking a deep breath, she drew strength from her fury. Soon, she would boldly stand before Jamie MacLeod with anger in her heart, and she would bind herself to his dark soul.
Then she would pray for death to take her from her misery.
~ * ~
Jamie sat at the high dais with Matthew at his side. Otherwise, the great hall was empty. Everyone awaited his arrival in the kirk.
“Ye might have changed yer plaid,” Matthew said, shaking his head in disapproval. “Ye stink.”
“Do not make me regret asking ye to walk her down the aisle,” Jamie snapped.
Matthew waved a hand in front of his nose. “I already regret it.”
Jamie cast the older man a look that would have made other men cower.
Matthew chuckled. “I was only trying to lighten the mood. ‘Tis yer wedding day, after all.”
Jamie’s scowl only deepened. “Of that I am painfully aware.”
Matthew reached out and put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “She could always change. Mayhap if she spends time away from her indulgent father, she will learn compassion and honor.”
Jamie shook his head. “The only hope I have is that she gives me an heir quickly, so I can send her back to her father.”
“She may not wish to be returned to her father,” a voice said behind him.
Jamie turned around and saw Julia. She dipped in a low curtsy.
“Forgive me, my laird. I did not mean to overhear yer conversation.”
“Worry not,” Jamie assured the lass. “But please tell me what ye meant just now. Why would the lady not wish to return to her father’s home?”
Julia twisted the cord around her waist nervously. “I noticed she had some bruising. I know it was not my place to say anything, but I spoke without thinking and asked her who was responsible. She answered, her laird.”
“Ye look surprised,” Matthew said quickly, drawing Jamie’s gaze.
“I am,” Jamie admitted. “I’ve met Laird MacDonnell. I thought him soft and indulgent toward his daughter. I find it hard to believe that he would raise a hand against her.”
Matthew shrugged. “Mayhap, he’s not had a choice. Her behavior is unsuitable for a lady. No doubt he’s needed to put her in her place.”
“Mayhap,” Jamie said absently, struggling to believe Gordon MacLeod would willingly hurt his daughter.
Matthew stood up. “Ye will be able to question her after the wedding. Ye’ve delayed long enough. The people await ye.”
Jamie took a deep breath. His captain was right. He pressed his hands flat on the table and stood. “Julia, does the lady wait in the solar?
She nodded in reply.
“Then go ahead to the kirk,” Jamie instructed. He withdrew a strip of MacDonnell plaid from his sporran and handed it to Matthew. “Ye know what to do.”
