Chapter 27

27

" Y e look beautiful."

Freya tweaked the hem of Emily's gown as Olivia made the final touches to her hair.

Emily admired the result. Her maid had brought dried Highland thistles that morning, arranging Emily's hair into an intricate style and placing the thistles inside it at intervals.

Amongst the thistles, tiny beads on short pins had been placed. Her hair sparkled whenever she moved.

Emily had wanted to protest that she needn't go to so much trouble—that it wasn't a real wedding—but she had never felt so beautiful before. The dark red dress complimented her pale skin, and when she looked at her reflection, she saw a lady—a woman unlike herself.

"What is it?" Freya asked suddenly.

Emily's thoughts had turned to her father and brother again, and it must have shown on her face.

"I miss me family," she said quietly. "I always wished me maither would be at me weddin' day. It will be strange to walk down the aisle and nae have me braither and faither there with me." Her eyes filled with tears against her will, and she tried to hold them back.

"I found it!"

They both looked up as Lady MacNiall entered the room, holding a short tartan sash in one hand.

"I kenned I had it somewhere. This fastens to the bodice of yer dress—" She stopped. "Och, Emily, what is the matter?"

Emily shook her head. "Nothin', I am alright. I was just speakin' about me maither."

Lady MacNiall looked her over with an assessing eye. "Ye look very bonnie," she said gently. "She'd be proud, I have nay doubt."

Emily smiled. "Where does it attach?" she asked, grateful for the distraction.

Lady MacNiall held up the sash, turning it around to look for the fastenings, and approached her. The tartan was made of navy blue with bands of yellow and white—MacNiall colors.

"There used to be some buttons on the bodice… ah, here we are."

She began fiddling with a tiny tag at Emily's waist. It turned out to be a small pearl button that hooked into the short sash. It was then twisted up across the bodice and fastened at the shoulder to fall down her back.

When Emily stood back, she loved the look of it and smiled up at Lady MacNiall.

Lady MacNiall was pensive for some time, then removed the brooch she wore on her shoulder and placed it on Emily's instead.

Emily watched her without comment, but Freya looked quite astonished by her mother's behavior.

"There, ye are ready," Lady MacNiall said, a tremor in her voice. Then, in a moment that surprised them all, she embraced Emily, hugging her tightly to herself.

She let her go again, awkward and stiff in her movements, but Emily appreciated the gesture more than she could say.

"Yer maither may nae be here today, but I have two daughters, and I wouldnae mind havin' another." Her expression was still severe, but she managed a faint smile.

Emily could tell that Moira Kane was not an affectionate woman by nature. "Thank ye," she said awkwardly.

"I wish Laura were here because I ken she would have approved of the woman Adam has chosen."

Emily looked at Freya, who nodded.

"Laura would have loved ye, although she would have been jealous of yer hair," Freya said thoughtfully.

"Why?" Emily asked, looking at the wild red locks that fell about Freya's face. "Yer hair is beautiful."

Freya chuckled. "It's a bother. I get it from me faither."

"He was called The Phoenix on the battlefield," Lady MacNiall said, her whole face brightening when she spoke of her late husband.

Freya sighed, running her fingers down Emily's dress. "Ye will be the bonniest bride there ever was."

Emily's insides were churning at the thought, and she looked between the two women uncertainly. "Ye ken it isnae really?—"

Lady MacNiall held up her hand. "I have noticed that ye have been avoidin' one another. I ken that Adam can be a hot-headed man, but he doesnae fool me. He cares for ye, or he wouldnae be doin' all of this in the first place. The key to a happy marriage is to have a husband who is obsessed with yer every movement." She gave Emily a sly smile.

"I dinnae expect to have a happy marriage," Emily confessed. "But I will make sure I have a peaceful one."

With a final rearranging of her skirts and sash, she was finally ready. The brooch gleamed on her shoulder. It reminded her of the one Adam had worn when she had first seen him. She hoped he was wearing it today, too, so that they matched.

As Freya and Lady MacNiall left the room, Emily took one last look in the mirror, wondering where the day would lead, trying to quell her fear that the wedding would be nothing more than an illusion.

Adam's mouth was dry as he stood at the altar.

He told himself it was because of the inherent danger around them, but in his mind, he knew he was anticipating seeing Emily again.

There were men placed throughout the kirk. The congregation was made up of his people and his family. Hidden in and amongst the crowd were soldiers disguised as guests. A dozen or so lay in wait outside the kirk, and many more lined the edges of the room.

They were prepared.

Doughall stood beside him, his eyes alert and ready.

Laird MacGordon may have appeared calm on the surface, but Adam knew the calculating warrior within. He would be a coiled spring, ready to act at the slightest movement.

"Have ye seen anythin'?" Adam asked softly.

"Nay. Nae a shadow on the horizon," his friend replied. "Ye focus on yer weddin', I'll focus on me sword."

"It is only a matter of time."

Do I want James to come so I can get Laura back, or do I want him nae to come so I can really marry Emily?

Adam shifted his weight, finding it difficult to breathe.

A few rows back to his right sat his cousin, Laird MacTristan. He had arrived early, with over twenty men to support the cause. He was a huge man and by far the most conspicuous of them, his wide shoulders crowding those on either side of him.

As MacTristan's gaze met his, Adam gave him a warning glare, and he attempted to relax back into his chair.

The kirk was small, the main door leading out to the wide expanse of the moorlands and hills beyond. Green grass swayed in the breeze, and clumps of purple heather dotted the dark marshlands.

All was quiet. But there was a heavy tension in the air.

Adam stiffened at the sound of horses' hooves outside, but after a few tense seconds, he realized it was just his mother's carriage. He suddenly had a rush of nerves so strong that his hands started trembling.

Doughall, as though sensing his fears, laid a hand on his shoulder. "We are prepared. He willnae get within fifty feet of her, ye have me word."

Adam nodded stiffly and waited. The kirk door seemed to shrink before his eyes as he stared at the bright white light outside.

His mother and Freya entered first, going swiftly to their seats as they greeted a few people in the congregation.

His mother stopped beside him to kiss his cheek before she took her seat, and then a new shadow appeared at the door.

Emily.

Everything else in the world faded away.

Adam forgot James Stewart and his sister. He even forgot his desire to have his revenge. All he could see was the goddess walking toward him.

The dress suited her perfectly. Her long hair was tied up in a beautiful braid, and her pale skin reflected the shimmering brooch on her shoulder. He felt a jolt of pride as he saw his clan colors across her shoulder.

Emily wasn't looking at him, though. Her eyes were darting around the kirk, across the congregation and back, uncertain and afraid.

Look at me. Just focus on me.

As if she had heard his thoughts, her gaze finally met his, and then they were the only people in the kirk. Just him and Emily as she walked toward him.

Adam's chest expanded on steady breaths as he tried to calm his thundering heart. He kept his eyes on Emily even as he saw Doughall's hand move to the hilt of his sword.

It felt like a countdown. Every step brought her closer to him and yet somehow pushed her further away.

Surely, he should have struck by now.

Emily finally reached him, and Adam had no choice but to face the priest and turn his back on the door.

"Has there been any word?" she asked in a hushed tone.

He shook his head, his eyes briefly running over her figure. "Ye look beautiful in that dress," he said softly, and his lips twitched as she blushed.

"Ye dinnae look so bad yerself," she murmured.

The priest began the ceremony, and Adam felt Emily's slim fingers grip his arm like a vice. She was nervous, too, and Adam had to admit that he was surprised by the intensity of the nerves coursing through him.

I have never once pictured me weddin' day, so why does this feel as though it is everythin' I've ever wanted?

The priest rambled on, each line bringing them closer to the inevitable conclusion.

Then there was a pause. The priest waited. Adam waited. The whole room seemed to hold its breath.

Nothing.

There was no sound from anywhere. Adam could hear the gentle clinking of armor as the guards all around them shifted and moved, waiting for the attack.

Adam looked behind him, noticing his mother's pale face and Freya's uncertainty and surprise.

Where is he?

"Shall I continue, M'Laird?" the priest asked.

"Aye, continue," Adam growled.

Emily's grip on his arm was tightening by the second as the priest finally asked them to repeat their vows.

Adam spoke the words automatically, unable to believe that he was truly marrying his pixie from the moorlands.

As the priest bound their hands, Adam could see her fingers trembling violently. He took hold of them, and at his assuredness, she took a shuddering breath, visibly calming.

There was a long, ominous silence as the priest read the final prayer over their hands and then pronounced them man and wife.

Adam was stunned. They were truly married. There had been no whisper of Stewart's presence anywhere. He did not understand it.

They turned to face the congregation, which was cheering and applauding now. He looked at his mother's happy expression and Freya's smile of pride and could not quite believe it had happened.

"Have ye heard anythin' from Laird Orkney?" Emily whispered, for his ears alone.

He turned to her, placing a finger on his lips. "Ye willnae speak of another man on our weddin' day, lass," he said forcefully, pulling her to him and taking her mouth in a long kiss.

She melted against him, her arms going around his neck as the crowd cheered.

The guards and soldiers were tense in anticipation of trouble, but the world seemed to have allowed them a reprieve.

Adam was not going to miss an opportunity to hold Emily in his arms again.

I have claimed me bride. Now I must do what I can to keep her safe.