Page 44 of Highlander of Steel
The wedding was just a few days away, looming with so many unknowns and such high stakes that he couldn’t help worrying that it would all fall apart. And that was if Ailis even showed up. She had claimed that she would go through with it, but he couldn’t forget the look in her eyes as they had parted ways in the woods—a look of such disappointment, such dismay, such contempt, as if she had been staring into the eyes of the enemy.
I’m nae yer foe, lass. Far from it.
But he doubted there was anything he could do to convince her of that now. She had seen him in a different light, and hecouldn’t undo that. All because he had almost killed a man who wouldn’t have hesitated to kill her, given the chance.
In hindsight, Ailis wasn’t sure that her decision to stay away from Killian was the right one. If there hadn’t been a wedding coming up, perhaps it would have been easier, but the days had passed so quickly, hurtling toward her nuptials to the man she had shunned.
To his credit, he hadleft her alone, though she had glimpsed him here and there. A beautiful shadow moving out of the corner of her eye.
But now, it was the night before the day that would change everything, bringing peace or doom. And she wished she could have seen him for a moment, to reassure herself that this wedding was not going to be the worst mistake in the history of this bloody war.
“How’s the bonny bride feelin’?” Rachel burst into her bedchamber without knocking.
Ailis jumped at the disturbance, her stomach doing anxious somersaults. “We really must talk about ye learnin’ to knock, Rachel. Ye’re goin’ to kill me one day.”
“Apologies, me Lady.” Rachel grinned and held out a linen-wrapped package. Large and softly rectangular.
Ailis’s stomach lurched again at the sight of it; there was no mistaking what was inside.
“I just got it from the seamstresses,” Rachel enthused as she set the package down on a nearby table and began to unwrap it. “They’re giddy, they are! Truly, ye’d think the Laird is marryin’ a lass from another clan—they’rethatpleased about it.”
Ailis froze, heavy dread slipping down the back of her throat and into her stomach like mad honey. Her nerves were already teetering on a knife’s edge; she didn’t need the reminder that practically no one was in favor of this union.
How did Killian even get his council to agree to it?
Unless, like her father, Killian didn’t listen to his councilmen. She wasn’t quite sure how many of her father’s councilmen were still alive.
“I come bearin’ flowers,” a welcome voice interrupted her anxious thoughts. Paisley swept into the room. At leastshegave a half knock upon entry. “And a tonic that, by the looks of it, ye’re goin’ to need.”
She cast a concerned glance at Ailis, who did not doubt that she had gone very pale. It wasn’t the same dreadful sensation that the sea conjured up, but it was certainly close, her legs bouncing, every breath laced with a hint of nausea.
“Aye, well, Her Ladyship can choose the flowers once she’s put the gown on,” Rachel declared, bringing over the dress in question.
Ailis had to force herself to look at the wedding gown the way one might force oneself to look at a terrible injury to see what could be done about it.
Oh…
It was beautiful.Beyondbeautiful. The most exquisite garment she had ever seen in her life, a shade of emerald so rich and vivid that she was afraid to touch it.
The gown sparkled in the low light of her bedchamber, drawing her eye to the ocean of adornments and embellishments that had been painstakingly sewn into the fabric: burnished gold spangles, thin gold beads, and the most intricate embroidery of autumn leaves, in hues of gold and bronze and paler green.
“Let’s get ye into it, then,” Rachel said excitedly. “I cannae wait. Och, it’s like it’s me own wedding!”
Ailis rose from the armchair where she did most of her fretting.
Come now, it’s just a dress. Ye’ve worn dresses every day of yer life. This is just another one.
She neglected to remind herself that this dress was nothing like any she had ever worn. At her family home, she had been clothedin drab colors, the seamstress instructed to make her dresses out of coarse, itchy fabrics as a sort of perpetual punishment.
She had figured out ways around it over the years, stealing a few léines to wear as shifts instead of the uncomfortable ones that were made for her, creating a nice barrier between her skin and the rough material.
Slowly, taking it step by step, Ailis stripped out of her dress and allowed Rachel and Paisley to help her into her wedding gown. The fabric was as soft as a kitten’s fur, gliding over her skin, the craftsmanship so perfect that it fit her like a glove. Although that was helped by ties that weaved up the back, which Rachel yanked tight with an alarming amount of strength and enthusiasm.
Even then, it wasn’t so restrictive that Ailis couldn’t breathe. It just felt… snug.
“Well, that is… quite somethin’,” Rachel gasped, coming to stand in front of her to get the full impression. “I feel like ye ought to have a crown on yer head, me Lady. Mercy, I havenae seen aught like it in all me life.”
Paisley’s eyes were similarly wide as she awkwardly held out two bouquets of flowers. One had sprays of lucky heather and bright purple thistles, amid fronds of fern and laurel; the other was smaller, with a center of white crocus and light purple asters, surrounded by the rusty pink blooms of sedum flowers, which, in turn, were bordered by laurel.
