“You tell the laird we’ll have her down as soon as we can. These things can’t be rushed! Would you have the lass not looking her best on her wedding day?”
Gannon muttered an apology and then backed away, promising he’d relay the news to the laird.
“Now then,” Maddie said as she returned to Mairin. “Let’s get this gown on you and then downstairs to the laird.”
“They’ve been at it for hours,” Ewan muttered. “What could possibly take so long?”
“They’re women,” Alaric said, as if that explained everything.
Caelen nodded and turned up his mug to drain the last of his ale.
Ewan sat in his high-backed chair and shook his head. His wedding day. There was a marked difference in this day and the day he’d wed his first wife.
He hadn’t thought of Celia except in passing for quite some time now. Some days he had difficulty conjuring the image of his young wife to mind. The years had passed, and with each year, she’d faded more from his memory.
He’d been a much younger man when he’d wed Celia. She, too, had been young. Vibrant. He remembered that much. She always had a ready smile. He’d considered her a friend. They’d been childhood playmates before training had become his life. Years later, their fathers had seen fit to ally themselves and marriage between the clans made sense.
She’d borne him a child in their second year of marriage. By the time the third year rolled around, she was dead, his keep was in ruins, and his clan nearly decimated.
Aye, their wedding day had been a joyous occasion. They’d feasted and celebrated for three days. Her face had been alight with joy, and she’d ed the entire time.
Would Mairin smile? Or would she come to their marriage with those same wounded eyes she’d had when she arrived?
“Where is she, Papa?” Crispen whispered beside him. “Do you think she changed her mind?”
Ewan turned to smile at his son. He stroked his hand over the lad’s hair in a reassuring manner. “She’s just getting dressed, son. She’ll be here. She gave her word, and as you know, she puts great store in keeping her word. Women like to look their best on their wedding day.”
“But she’s beautiful already,” Crispen protested.
“That’s true,” Ewan said. And it was. The lass wasn’t just beautiful, she was enchanting. “But they like to look extra special for just such occasions.”
“Does she have flowers? She should have flowers.”
Ewan almost laughed at the look of consternation on Crispen’s face. His son was more nervous than he. Ewan wasn’t nervous. Nay, he was just impatient and ready to have it done with.
“You don’t have flowers?” Crispen asked.
Ewan looked down at his son. Crispen looked so appalled that Ewan frowned.
“I didn’t give flowers any thoughts. But perhaps you’re right. Why don’t you go take up the matter with Cormac.”
Across the room, Cormac had evidently been listening in on the conversation. He looked as appalled as Crispen had, and he hastily took a step back. But Crispen was too fast and was immediately in front of the man, demanding that they go collect flowers for Mairin.
He shot Ewan a disgruntled look as he allowed himself to be tugged from the great hall.
“What the hell is taking them so long?” Caelen demanded. He shifted restlessly in his chair and spread out his long legs as he slouched lower. “This is a waste of a good training day.”
Ewan chuckled. “I wouldn’t consider my wedding day to be a waste of time.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Alaric said. “While the rest of us are out sweating, you’ll be enjoying a warm, sweet lass.”
“He’ll be sweating,” Caelen said slyly. “Just not in the way the rest of us are.”
Ewan held up his hand to staunch the bawdy talk before it caught on with the rest of the men. The last thing he needed was his prospective bride to walk in and be embarrassed to her toes.
Just then Maddie burst in, her cheeks rosy and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
“She’s coming, laird!”
Ewan glanced over at the priest, who was enjoying a mug of ale, and motioned him up. As Mairin rounded the corner, the entire hall stood in acknowledgment of her presence.
Ewan was momentarily struck dumb. The lass wasn’t just beautiful. She was utterly magnificent. Gone was the shy, somewhat awkward young woman and in her place was a lady with all the bearing of a descendent of royalty. She looked just like the princess she was.
She swept into the room, head held high, a look of serene calm on her face. Her hair was partially pulled into a knot just above her nape and the rest hung loose to her waist.
There was such a regal air about her presence, that Ewan suddenly felt unworthy.
Crispen burst into the room holding a wad of flowers so tightly that the stems were already limp and the flowers wilting as he flopped them about. He ran to Mairin and thrust them into her hands, petals scattering to the floor.
Her expression completely changed. Gone was the super-composed, cool woman. Her eyes warmed and she smiled tenderly down at his son. She leaned down to brush a kiss across his brow.
“Thank you, Crispen. They’re absolutely beautiful.”
Something twisted in the region of Ewan’s heart.
He stepped forward until he was just behind Crispen. He reached down to frame his hands over his son’s shoulders as he stared into Mairin’s blue eyes.
“The priest is waiting, lass,” he said gruffly.