A Conjuring of Valor by J.C. Wade

Author:J.C. Wade [J.C. Wade]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J.C. Wade Originals
Published: 2025-04-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Before she knew it, the day had come. She stood in her auntie’s rooms, surrounded by at least a dozen women. There were jewels, pins, brushes and combs, perfumes, paint for her face, mounds of frothy fabrics, and all of it was for her. Or for the spectacle that was to be her wedding.

Cait’s mother had chosen red for her wedding clothes, which she’d always said looked best with her coloring. Aside from Cait’s height, everything else about her had been inherited from her mother: rich, wavy, dark brown hair and skin so fair you could see the veins just under the skin. Her blue eyes were also her mother’s, though the shape was more akin to her father’s. Large and expressive, she had had to learn from a young age to mask her feelings. When your eyes so easily betrayed your feelings, brothers took advantage.

Cait had never fussed over her appearance, nor cared what she wore, but as the maids finished dressing her, she could not deny that she felt beautiful. The heavy fabric, embellished with vines and flowers in rich blues and greens, fell in wide, elegant pleats from under her bustline. Her fingers traced the silky ribbons that decorated the bust, crisscrossing in a beatific pattern. Her shift, which was finer than anything she’d ever had previously, caressed her skin under the gown and peeked through at her shoulders, elbows and wrists. Her soft hose, the color of fresh cream, were tied fast above her knee with a ribbon, made new for the occasion.

Soon to no longer be a maiden, it was inappropriate for her to wear her hair free. The maids braided her long hair and curled it upon her head in an intricate design. When they were finished, she felt her nervousness redouble. There was nothing left for her to do to prepare. It was time. Her hands shook with nerves. She barely heard the ladies’ compliments and good wishes, but then her mother was there, pinching her cheeks, looking proud and a little breathless herself.

“Aye. A bonny bride if I e’er saw one,” said her mother. “And I’m no’ just saying that because I’m yer mam. Ye are beautiful, Cait, inside and out.” She placed the cream-colored veil over her head, topping it with a golden circlet, and stepped back to admire their efforts.

The ladies’ maids were bustling about, picking up after themselves. Cait grasped her mother’s hands tightly. “I’m scared,” she admitted in a whisper. “It’s come so quickly. My wame is curdled.” She placed a hand over her middle, grimacing. How terrible it would be to be sick now!

“O’ course ye are,” said her mother in her usual, no-nonsense tone.” Ye’d be a daft fool no’ tae be. He’ll be just as nervous, though he’ll likely no’ admit such a thing. Dinnae ye fash. Be brave. It will all be o’er soon.”

She wanted to argue with that statement. The ceremony wasn’t what was making her so nervous. It was what came after than had her stomach wound tighter than a fisher’s knot.

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