The Laird's Yuletide Bride by Emma Prince

Author:Emma Prince
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Highland
Publisher: 0
Published: 2018-11-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

For the dozenth time, Fillan caught himself tapping his cane on the outside of his bad foot. He planted the cane firmly onto the dais, resolving yet again not to let his nerves get the better of him.

But he had been standing on the dais beside Father Dorian for what felt like an age. It couldn’t have been more than a quarter hour, in truth, but time seemed to stretch, taunting his worry-knotted mind.

The great hall was filled with a surprising number of MacVale clanspeople. It seemed word had spread quickly that their Laird was to be wed. They, too, had begun shifting restlessly. They eyed the handful of MacDonnell warriors who stood stoically in their midst, clearly eager to be done waiting.

What if she doesnae come?

Fillan was being foolish and weak-minded, he knew, yet he could not stop the thought from surfacing.

When he’d helped her down from her horse in the courtyard, he’d felt her tremble slightly. Was she afraid of him? Afraid of what it would mean to marry him? Mayhap she was repulsed by him, and she’d shuddered at his touch—and the prospect of sharing so much more in the marriage bed.

Aye, and mayhap she would find a way to convince her father to call off this madness. Mayhap she was speaking to him at this moment, pleading not to be married off to a cripple, or weeping at the thought of having to endure the sight of his mangled foot for the rest of her life. Mayhap—

Just then, a swell of murmurs rose at the edge of the crowd closest to the stairs. His clanspeople parted, and there she was, descending like a swan.

Her arm was looped with her father’s. The Laird wore a frown, but he appeared more baffled than angry at the prospect of escorting his only daughter toward her wedding.

Fillan only spared him a glance before shifting his gaze back to Adelaide. Her hair had been partially pulled back and plaited so that the braids formed a honey-brown crown around her head. The rest of her locks fell in a rich cascade down her back.

There were no flowers to be had at this time of year, but some thoughtful servant—Gretha, most likely—had gathered together a bundle of ribbons that had been tied to look like blossoms. Adelaide held the bunch of colorful ribbons in a hand that shook slightly.

She wore the same light blue wool gown as she had before. No jewels sparkled at her neck, nor had she been bedecked in fine silks and brocades.

She didn’t need any of that. Unadorned, her pure, glowing beauty shone like a candle in the dark. She was the most arrestingly beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Distantly, he registered the murmurs of pleasure and awe traveling through the hall as she made her way slowly toward him. It seemed his people were as taken with his bride as he was.

As she and Laird MacDonnell drew closer to the dais, she kept her head modestly dipped. MacDonnell halted at the base of the dais, releasing her arm and placing a peck on her cheek.

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