Page 79 of Fallen
Dressed in a sky-blue kirtle with a violet over-gown, meadow flowers entwined through her hair, she looked like a princess.
It was hard to believe she’d once been a fallen woman, and then a Bride of Christ. Both those identities were behind her now.
Coira’s throat thickened then, and she glanced down at the ring she now wore upon her left hand—soon she would wear Craeg’s ring upon her right. How she wished her parents were still alive to witness this day.
“That shade is perfect,” a woman’s voice intruded. “It matches yer eyes.”
Coira smiled and turned from the mirror, her gaze settling upon Fenella. Once her fever had abated, the outlaw woman had recovered swiftly. Now, only the thinness in her face hinted that she’d recently been ill. Usually, Fenella favored a more masculine style of dress, striding about the broch in braies and a form-fitting leather vest. Yet today she’d donned a dark-blue kirtle. Her wild mane of blonde hair, which usually tumbled over her shoulders, had been tamed and piled above her head.
Inhaling a shaky breath, Coira then smoothed out the silken material of her over-gown. “I’m nervous, Fen … what a goose I am.”
Fenella’s mouth curved, her blue eyes twinkling. “As all brides are. Come on … everyone’s waiting in the kirk. Craeg will soon think ye have changed yer mind.”
Coira’s breathing hitched.Never.
Ever since Craeg had sent out men in search of a priest, she’d been looking forward to this day. The plague had ravaged parts of the isle while leaving some areas untouched, yet men of the cloth were hard to find. However, finally one of the men had returned with a priest from Dunvegan in MacLeod territory. He had arrived with the carcass of a prize stag and Malcolm MacLeod’s best wishes.
It appeared that the folk of these lands weren’t the only ones pleased by the news of Duncan MacKinnon’s passing.
“Let us go to him then,” Coira replied. She retrieved a posy of flowers from the sideboard—aromatic sprays of purple heather—and led the way out of the women’s solar.
Outdoors, the sun bathed Dunan in warmth. The bailey was still quiet. Although the sickness had passed, folk were slow to return to the fortress. Even so, Dunan no longer had the desolate air of when they’d arrived here.
It still didn’t feel like home, although Coira could now envision a time when it might. These days, she was just happy that the sickness had spared her and those she loved. Each night, she knelt by the foot of the bed and thanked the Lord for it.
The two women skirted the base of the broch and headed toward the South Gate.
Two men wearing MacKinnon sashes stood guard there. They both bowed to the women, smiles stretching their faces. Those of the Dunan Guard who’d not wished to serve Duncan MacKinnon’s bastard brother had been let go—only those who willingly followed Craeg remained.
Passing under the archway, Coira and Fenella made their way through the kirk yard. The path led between haphazard clusters of gravestones. Ahead, loomed the open door of the kirk.
Coira swallowed hard, sweat suddenly beading upon her back.
This was real. She was about to become Craeg MacKinnon’s wife.
Only a handful of people awaited them inside. With the threat of sickness still lurking in Dunan, Craeg preferred to keep the gathering small. Still, those who mattered most to them both were there—even Lady Drew.
Seated by the doors, Craeg’s half-sister turned to look at Coira as she stepped inside.
The two women’s gazes fused for an instant, and Coira noted how much better Drew was looking. Color had returned to her cheeks, although she was still painfully thin. Behind Drew stood Carr Broderick.
The man had barely left the lady’s side over the past two weeks. With Craeg’s arrival, he’d become her shadow. Gunn was now Captain of the Dunan Guard and Broderick had taken on the role of Lady Drew’s personal guard.
The moment drew out, and then Drew MacKinnon’s mouth lifted at the corners, warmth showing in her grey eyes. It had been a strange time for Drew. When she was strong enough, Craeg had gone to her solar, and the pair of them had spoken for a whole afternoon.
Coira wasn’t sure what had passed between them, but in the days that followed, when Drew joined them at mealtimes, she noted that brother and sister got on well, and even laughed together on occasion.
The family Craeg had never known wasn’t completely lost to him after all.
However, Drew only occupied Coira’s attention for a few instants. She shifted her gaze then to the tall dark-haired man who awaited her before the altar.
A squat individual with ruddy cheeks, garbed in priestly robes, stood next to him.
Both of them watched her approach.
Gunn sat upon a bench a few yards away from the altar, Farlan next to him. The latter favored her with a grin and a wink. A walking stick sat next to him; the outlaw’s leg had recovered well, although he would be lame for a while yet.
Both men shuffled to one side, making room on the low bench for Fenella.
