A Storm Summoned by J.C. Wade

Author:J.C. Wade [J.C. Wade]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J.C. Wade Originals
Published: 2023-05-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

The next day came early and was full of listless waiting on Iain’s part. He knew that for Alice, her day would be long and filled with careful preparations. But for him, he only had to wash and shave, and dress in his best clothes, the entirety of which could wait until moments before the ceremony began as far as he was concerned.

They were to be wed in the village kirk, where any and all could witness the blessed event. He passed servants scrubbing the floor of the great hall, the sleeves of their dresses rolled up to their elbows, their skirts soaked with grey, dirty water.

Iain felt uneasy in spirit and no matter how hard he worked himself in the lists that morning or how thoroughly he prepared himself for his leave taking, he could not account for the feeling. Haps it was only his nerves. It would make sense, with him being wed in only a few short hours, but he didn’t think that was the cause. Not fully, at least. It was as if he’d forgotten something very important that he could not call to mind, no matter how well he strained his mind.

The feeling was still with him as he was washed and was rubbed down with finely scented oils from France, dressed and combed and bothered to the breadth of his patience. Finally, having had quite enough, he refused a wee flower that a servant was attempting to put in his bonnet and made his way to the kirk.

Ewan, who had been with him through all the pampering, was also eager to leave the keep and walked with him to retrieve their mother and Edyth, who were deep in discussion in the great hall. It sounded to him that they were discussing childbirth, which was as grotesque as watching a tooth being pulled to his mind.

Together they took a carriage into the village in deference for Edyth and Roslyn. Iain could not remember a time that he had felt as jittery and cramped in the small space. The enclosure was silent all the way through the streets save for the squeak of the wheels and the rhythmic clopping of horse hooves. When they pulled to a stop at the front of the kirk, the steps were lined with villagers, intent on viewing the spectacle.

The church itself was as fine as any Iain had ever seen, with elaborate lead-lined glass windows and ornately carved statues lining the walls and standing guard in every alcove, looking properly forlorn. He’d only ever seen one other church like it in Edinburgh, this one on a much smaller scale, of course. Iain took a deep breath and forced his feet forward, down the long center aisle, past the pews filling with guests, and toward the priest standing at the altar, his family following close behind.

The priest, a very tall and thin man with pale eyes and a propensity for muttering to himself greeted them. “Aye, excellent. Excellent,” he mumbled after each introduction was made.

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