Page 90 of The Highlander's Virgin Widow
Shona moved to the door and pulled it open. A woman, one of the guests at the cèilidh, walked in, her eyes sharp and intelligent.
Keira squinted her eyes. For some reason, she felt like she was supposed to know her, but despite her efforts, she couldn’t put a name to her face.
“Keira,” Shona said, “this is Alison. She’s Laird Marsden’s wife.”
Alison moved closer, her eyes filled with enough pity to drive Keira down a spiral. “I am truly sorry for what is happening. I could tell from the look on yer face yesterday that ye didnae plan this at all.”
Keira only gave her a brief nod in response.
Soon, the women got busy, and the room grew loud. Lesley helped rearrange some of the flowers in the bouquet and cut the stems of the ones she deemed uneven. Shona helped Keira into the dress, and Alison styled her hair.
“The flowers are perfect!” Lesley proclaimed, a triumphant smile resting on her face.
Keira turned her head as Shona started to tighten the laces of her corset one after the other.
“What do ye think?”
She stared at the flowers—they had been arranged neatly and grouped by colors. They looked fresh and exquisite. So exquisite that she was unable to tell the exact time her eyes started to well with tears.
Lesley noticed immediately and moved closer to her. “Nay. Nay. Nae now, Keira. Ye cannae cry. Do ye nae like the flowers?”
Keira sniffed. “That isnae the problem. The flowers are perfect.”
Lesley stared at her, her brow furrowed in confusion.
“If only this wedding was just as perfect as well.”
At those words, all the women around her paused what they were doing. Keira noticed and regretted bringing it up in the first place.
“Ye ken ye still have some time,” Shona reminded her.
“Aye,” Lesley agreed. “Hudson should be on his way back by now. He should have bought the roots I need. We can take a break and just talk if that is what ye want.”
Keira wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks and shook her head. “Nay. I dinnae want that.”
“Keira,” Shona said, her voice soft.
“’Tis nae the first time I will be marrying out of duty. I ken how to compose meself. Let us keep going,” Keira urged, her voice firm.
“Are ye certain?” Alison asked, twirling the comb in her hand.
“Aye,” Keira affirmed. “I dinnae want to be stuck in this dress for too long. I want to get this over with as soon as possible.”
Another wave of tense silence swept over the room.
The women resumed their work, speeding up wherever they could. Alison grabbed the string of white pearls that rested on the vanity and gently draped it around her neck.
“Ye look beautiful,” Shona commented.
“Aye,” Alison agreed. “Evander is a lucky man.”
Keira nodded, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “Let us just go, please.”
In another world, if she was getting married to the love of her life, a man who wanted to marry her forherand not some twisted sense of duty, this would have been the perfect wedding.
The servants had been quick to prepare the courtyard in just the few hours of notice they had been given. The grass had been well trimmed, and flowers lined the path that reached the makeshift altar, where Evander currently stood with the priest.
Shona stood right beside her, walking with purpose, her hand tightly gripping the flower bouquet. Keira studied Evander as she approached him. He was clad in a dark coat and a kilt made of Kincaid tartan. She could see the awe in his brown eyes as she drew closer, and part of her wondered if that was a performance as well—like all of this had been.
