Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

" A re ye ready?" Olivia asked, when Hannah took one last look at herself in the looking glass. "Ye seem ready. And ye look lovely."

"Thank ye," Hannah glanced at her sister's reflection. "I daenae think anyone is fully ready, but I suppose I am."

"In that case, I shall go fetch Hunter," Olivia announced, then rushed out of the chamber, leaving Hannah alone with her tumultuous thoughts.

The day of the wedding had finally arrived. She was told that it was to be a small ceremony, with only the closest family and friends invited to an evening of entertainment. However, that day, she witnessed many carriages arriving, as they would all spend the night celebrating the newlyweds.

The door opened, and Hunter was the first one to walk in. He stumbled the very same moment that he saw her.

"Hannah, ye…ye look so bonnie," he gushed. "That gown…"

"It belongs to Alistair's maither," Hannah explained, grabbing the sides of the gown and swirling about. She had to admit that she truly felt like a princess in it. It was of a light ivory hue, with puffed sleeves and a neckline adorned with a row of pearls. The rest of the gown was covered with light fabric that seemed woven into the material of the base. When the sun fell upon it, it sparkled like a diamond. Hannah had to admit that she had never seen a more beautiful gown in her entire life, and more importantly, she felt proud to wear it.

"She loaned it to ye?" Hunter asked, unable to take his eyes off of his sister.

"Aye," she nodded. "I'm a wee bit nervous, to tell ye the truth. What if I spill somethin' on it?"

Hunter couldn't help chuckling. "Ye always think of the worst-case scenario."

"Nay," Hannah shook her head. "The worst-case scenario would be if someone stepped on the hem of the gown, tearing it, then making me trip and fall over someone holding, say wine in their glass and that wine spillin' all over me. That would be the worst-case scenario." Although she said all that gravely, she was smiling. She was merely trying to calm down her racing nerves.

Hunter could sense that. He took her by the hand and kissed it tenderly. "Everythin' will be all right, Hannah. I promise ye."

"I love ye, Hunter, but ye cannae promise me that," Hannah reminded him. "Olivia and ye shall leave, while I will be left here on me own."

"Ye willnae be on yer own," he corrected her. "Ye are here with yer new family."

"It is odd to have a new family," she admitted, especially taking into account the fact that she didn't want a new family. She was perfectly content with her old one.

"Well, I made a mistake," he suddenly jumped. "Ye have two families now. That is the best part."

"Two, but I daenae belong to either fully," Hannah revealed. "Oh well. No point in cryin' over spilt milk. They are all waitin'. We'd best give them the show they came to see."

She smiled upon saying this. She might have been forced into this initially, but she would emerge with her dignity intact. Also, something told her that respect was a reasonable thing to expect from Alistair. Maybe now their shared path in life will be clearer, without any bumps in the road that might confuse them both. They would venture into their wedded life together, with mutual respect, if nothing else.

"Ye give them the best show in the world," Hunter smiled playfully.

"Aye," Hannah nodded, taking him by the hand.

As they walked towards the Great Hall, where the ceremony was to be conducted, Hannah felt that all eyes were on her. The human ones, as well as the eyes of the castle walls. She was the center of attention. She didn't know how to feel about that. Still, she kept on walking proudly.

The moment the doors to the Great Hall opened to welcome them in, a gasp was heard from the crowd. Hannah's eyes remained aimed forward, staring at the man who awaited her at the end of the long, red carpet that was unfurled just for this occasion.

When Hunter left her next to Alistair, who took her by the hand, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. He leaned closer to her, only to whisper. "Ye look lovely."

She smiled in return. His plaid argyll jacket bore the colors of his clan. His kilt matched it. His had his clan crest kilt pin visibly on his body, as well as his clan belt buckle. His entire body felt perfectly wrapped up in his wedding suit, that threatened to tear at the seams under the strain of his muscles. He was so handsome it was distracting her from anything else.

They turned to the clergyman, and the ceremony began. Hannah could barely pay attention to the any of the words he was saying. Her focus was on her hand in Alistair's, and the tingling electricity his touch was sending throughout her entire body.

"Now, I pronounce ye husband and wife!" the clergyman announced, much to the joy of everyone present.

Alistair turned to her. He was not smiling, but he was not serious either. She suspected she had a similar facial expression, so she endeavored to smile. It was a successful attempt because he smiled back at her. Then, he gently pressed his lips against hers, only for one brief moment. Then, he pulled away. The official part of the ceremony was over. They were now a husband and wife. The festivities could commence.

And commence they did. The music started to play. All sorts of food were served on a seemingly endless table, from which guests could partake and taste anything they wished. When it was time to dance, Hannah turned to Alistair.

"Would ye like to dance?" she asked, mustering the courage to do so.

"I daenae dance well," he told her curtly. "I've got two left feet."

"That doesnae matter," she urged. "I'm not that good either, but I still dance because it brings me pleasure."

"I daenae wish to," he replied in the same manner, deciding not to move from the dais.

"Fine," Hannah replied, realizing that there was no point in urging him to do something he didn't wish to do. "I shall go see where me sister and brother are."

She elbowed her way through the crowd, having to stop for everyone who wanted to give her warm wishes and advise her on what constitutes a happy marriage. Hannah wasn't sure if hers would be happy. She asked Alistair for something as simple as a dance, and he wouldn't even do that. She could understand that he might not know dance well, but that was irrelevant. One danced with one's heart, not one's feet anyway.

When she approached her brother, she found him in a discussion with another man. Not wanting to interrupt, she turned away, but he immediately called out to her.

"Hannah!" she heard her name. "I was hoping to steal a moment of yer time and introduce ye to Mylo O'Connor. Mylo, may I present me sister, Hannah Win… I mean, Hannah Peterson," Hunter chuckled. "Sorry, Hannah. Yer new surname needs to grow on me yet."

"And it shall," Mylo O'Connor bowed before Hannah, taking her hand into his and bestowing a respectful kiss upon it. "May I say that ye look ravishing."

"Oh…" Hannah blushed at this open compliment. "Why, thank ye Laird O'Connor. Ye are most kind."

"Pardon me asking, but why aren't ye dancin'?" Mylo asked her, straightening his back, like a proud peacock, with his clan's broch glistening on his chest.

He was in his late thirties, according to Hannah's first glance, his hair still black with a few strands of grey, and his face cleanly shaven, revealing a pointy jaw and protruding chin. Tall and lean, everything about him seemed to be symmetrical, which only added to the general notion of him being considered a handsome man.

Hannah smiled. "There is plenty of time for dancin'. I am merely restin' a little."

"Nonsense," the man shook his head. "The time for dancing is now. One should seize the moment, dear lady, and not let it go to waste."

He offered her his hand, questioningly. Hannah hesitated. She looked at Hunter. His eyes assured her that it was all right. He knew this man. Otherwise, he wouldn't have introduced him to her. That made Hannah slightly more at ease.

"I suppose ye are right," she smiled, as she rested her hand in his, allowing him to lead her to the dancing area in the middle of the hall.

Once again, all eyes were on them. Or was it on her?

She wondered if she was breaking some sort of a code by not dancing with her husband. Well, if she were, it was his own fault. She invited him, very cordially so, but he refused. And the truth was, Hannah liked to dance.

They stopped in front of each other, hand in hand, waiting for the music to start, as the previous song had just ended. There were a couple of moments of silence, then the hall was flooded by sounds of a well-known melody. The steps to this dance were known to Hannah. She felt at ease, moving to the rhythm, and surprisingly, Mylo was a good dancer.

"Ye are truly a breathtakingly beautiful woman," Mylo complimented her again, when the music allowed them to get close enough to be able to talk to each other. "Laird McCann is a fortunate man indeed."

"Yer compliments are truly kind, Laird O'Connor," Hannah smiled back.

"I am a direct man, me dear. When I like somethin', I say it. Equally, when I don't like somethin', I cannae keep quiet about it. This has led me to become… well, not a very likeable fellow, I must say."

"People daenae like to hear the truth," Hannah agreed.

She immediately thought of Alistair. She wondered if there was a truth in him that he was hiding. The truth about his feelings for her perhaps? She tried to banish those thoughts immediately. They would only confuse her more. They could only be a source of more suffering, and nothing else. It was far better not to think about him like that.

"When the truth is nice and if they like it, it's fine," Mylo pointed out. "But when the truth isnae what they want to hear, then it's a different story."

"Ye are very wise," Hannah said, smiling, not very immersed in the conversation, but at the same time, not wishing to appear rude.

From the corner of her eye, in the far end of the room, Hannah noticed that Olivia was talking to a man Hannah had never seen before. It appeared that he was a very amusing sort of man, because Olivia was constantly smiling, her entire body turned to face him, listening to his words intently. She doubted that she had ever seen her sister so enthralled by someone's presence.

"… daenae think so?" Hannah heard only the last part of the question that was directed at her.

"Sorry?" she echoed, shifting her focus to her dance partner once again. She decided she would speak to Olivia a bit later about the man she was with.

"Is yer mind elsewhere?" he asked. "Perhaps on yer husband who dinnae wish to dance?"

"Nay," Hannah shook her head. "It isnae him. It's… me sister."

"Ah, yes, yer brother hasnae introduced me to her yet," Mylo pointed out as if that was the most important part of the puzzle he was trying to solve. "Hopefully, he shall rectify that mistake."

Hannah couldn't say whether she liked this idea or not. Laird O'Connor was not the kind of man she wanted to court her sister. For a moment, she wondered what kind of man she would deem worthy of Olivia. A good man. A kind man. A man who did not think too highly of himself, who valued modesty. A man who did not play games.

There ye go again, she scolded herself silently. She couldn't stop thinking about Alistair even for a single moment.

At that moment, Mylo swirled her about and before she knew what had happened, Hannah bumped against someone's muscular chest, her palms wide open. "Oh, sorry I– "

She lifted her gaze underneath her dark eyelashes only to meet Alistair's. Something had happened, and he had obviously changed his mind about dancing. His eyes bore all the rage of the fiery pits of Hell, and the flames were dangerously close to her, threatening to burn her alive.