And she needed flowers to make the circlet for her hair, to make a bouquet. She’d made the facial cream herself, from herbs, so dabbed it on generously as she studied the sky from the bedroom window.
The clouds were moving in now. If she was going to get flowers, she had to get them before the sun was lost and the rain came. But when she opened the door to dash out, Moira and Larkin stood on the other side. He made some sound as his eyes widened, reminding her of the soft green goo on her face.
“It’s a female thing, just deal with it. I’m running behind. I haven’t got the flowers for my hair yet.”
“We…Well.” Moira brought her hand from behind her back and offered the circlet of white rosebuds with red ribbon braided through it. “I hope it’s all right, that it’s what you wanted. I know something red’s traditional for a handfasting. Larkin and I wanted to give you something, and we don’t have anything really, so we did this. But if you’d rather—”
“Oh, it’s perfect. It’s perfectly beautiful. Oh, thank you!” She grabbed Moira in a crushing hug, then turned a beaming smile up to Larkin.
“I’ve thought it wouldn’t be a hardship to have you kiss me,” he began, “but just at the moment…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll catch you later.”
“There’s this as well.” He handed her a nosegay of multicolored roses twined with more red ribbon. “To carry, Moira says.”
“Oh God, this is the sweetest thing.” Tears dribbled through the cream. “I thought this would be hard without family here. But I have family here, after all. Thank you. Thank you both.”
She bathed, scented her hair, creamed her skin. White candles burned as she performed the female ritual of preparing herself for a man. For her wedding, and
her wedding night.
She was in her robe, brushing her fingers over the skirt of the dress that hung outside the wardrobe when someone knocked.
“Yes, come in. Unless you’re Hoyt.”
“Not Hoyt.” Blair came in carrying a bottle of champagne nestled in an ice bucket. Behind her, Moira brought in three flutes.
“Compliments of our host,” Blair told her. “I gotta say, he’s got some class for a vampire. This is prime bubbly we got here.”
“Cian sent champagne?”
“Yep. And I’m going to get down to popping this cork before we suit you up.”
“I have a wedding party. Oh, you should have dresses. I should’ve thought of it.”
“We’re fine. Tonight’s all about you.”
“I’ve never had champagne. Blair says I’ll like it.”
“Guaranteed.” Blair gave Moira a quick wink then popped the cork. “Oh, I got something for you. It’s not much, seeing as I don’t have your style with on-line shopping, but anyway.” She dug into her pocket. “I didn’t have a box either.”
She put the pin in Glenna’s hand. “It’s a claddaugh. Traditional Irish symbol. Friendship, love, loyalty. I’d’ve gone for the toaster or salad bowl, but time was limited. And I didn’t know where you’d registered.”
Another circle, Glenna thought. Another symbol. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She turned, pinned it to the ribbon trailing from her bouquet. “Now I’ll carry both of your gifts with me.”
“I love sentiment. Especially with champagne.” Blair poured three glasses, passed them around. “To the bride.”
“And her happiness,” Moira added.
“And to the continuity represented by what we do tonight. To the promise of the future it represents. I’m going to get all the teary stuff out before I do my makeup.”
“Good plan,” Blair agreed.
“I know what I found with Hoyt is right, is mine. I know what we’re promising each other tonight is right, is ours. But having you here with me, that’s right, too. And it’s special. I want you to know it’s very special to me, having you share this.”
They touched glasses, drank, and Moira closed her eyes. “Blair was right. I do like it.”
“Told ya. Okay, Moira, let’s you and me make ourselves a bride.”