2. Face To Face

Lily picked up the floral headband from the table and placed it on Holly's head. "There, I think we are done."

Holly smiled and stood up. "How do I look?" she asked, giving a small twirl.

"Beautiful!" Daisy enthused.

"Ye really do," Rose concurred.

"Stunnin'," Violet gushed.

Holly smiled some more. Having her sisters around to help her get ready for the wedding ceremony took her mind off meeting Laird MacPherson for the first time.

She looked down at her dress. The cream gown fitted her well and displayed her curves. A dear family friend had done the embroidery at the hem and cuffs, turning a plain dress into something more. Holly did not know the exact terms of the deal, but either Laird MacPherson had not given her father much money for the wedding, or her father had decided not to spend much.

The floral headband had been crafted by her four sisters. Rose had decided on the design, Daisy and Lily had picked the flowers, and Violet had sewn them carefully onto the fabric. Lily also wore a necklace that had once belonged to their mother. A simple silver chain with a heart—a luckenbooth. They were both fitting additions to the wedding.

"I had hoped to meet him afore the weddin'," Holly complained.

"Ye kenned he was a recluse," Violet pointed out.

"Aye, but still," Holly moaned. "I am forced to marry him, and I dinnae even get to see him afore our union."

"Are ye worried about…?" Daisy asked quietly.

Holly didn't answer the questions, but she was worried about how he would look. She was worried about many things, but she had heard tales of a face and body ravaged by fire. She did not care about his looks, but people spoke of him as if he were a beast, and it only added to his dreadful reputation.

"I am ready," she announced. "Come, we dinnae want to be late for the ceremony."

The sisters had been pensive at Daisy's unasked and unanswered question, but they became jovial again. The situation was not ideal, but a wedding was always a cause for celebration. Their father had not acquiesced to many of their suggestions and demands, but there would be food, drink, and music, and any good Scot would turn that into a good time.

Holly was led downstairs by her sisters, two of them taking the front and two bringing up the rear, and they protected her as if she were precious cargo.

The fresh air in the courtyard was welcome, but it made butterflies flutter in Holly's stomach. She looked toward the other side of the keep, and the butterflies multiplied—it was where she would be officially bound to the Laird.

Holly spotted a small group of men on the other side of the open space, and she immediately knew her husband-to-be was among them. They all looked well dressed, but one was dressed more formally than the others. He sported a black shirt, a great kilt, stockings, and boots. As if sensing she was watching him from across the courtyard, he turned to face her.

It was hard to make out much from across the courtyard, but Holly could see the burning intensity in his eyes. It could have been her mind playing tricks on her, but he seemed to glare at her as she studied him. He stood watching her, not saying a word or gesturing, but she felt compelled to go to him.

It would not be long before the ceremony, and she should have a chance to meet the man she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with. Holly made the decision to be brave and walked toward him, her head held high.

As she got closer, she got a better impression of him. His clothes were obviously well made, and he had put some effort into dressing for the occasion, so much so that she felt underdressed.

Laird MacPherson was a commanding figure, tall and broad. He stood in the middle of the courtyard like a mighty oak that would not sway in the wind. He was not a man who would be bent or broken. Holly thought back to Daisy's recent comment about being embraced by thick forearms. He wore a coat, but it was obvious that he had thick forearms beneath. Holly was sure he was thick all over.

She imagined being held by him if that was something he wanted. She knew less than nothing about him except that he wanted an heir. Would that be all they saw of each other? Would he be out slaying his enemies while she remained at home with the children?

Laird MacPherson remained rooted to the spot until Holly was a few feet away from him, and then he took a couple of steps forward to put some distance between himself and his men.

All thoughts of being held by the Laird evaporated. Holly had expected the scars, but they still took her by surprise. She had hoped she would see them and not be affected by them at all, but it was hard.

Scars covered the left side of his face, running from his eyebrow down to his neck, eventually disappearing under his shirt. Shallow crevices of pale skin crisscrossed his face, covered in parts by strips of stretched skin, as if someone had taken some paint a shade lighter than his skin tone and tossed it at his face.

"Welcome, Me Laird," Holly greeted, curtseying.

"Lass." His commanding voice sent a shiver down her spine.

"Aye?" Holly murmured.

"Look me in the eye," Ragnall demanded.

"I have nay problem lookin' ye in the eye," Holly claimed.

"Is that a fact? I saw the way ye looked at me as ye came over. Well, go on, take a good look."

Holly was offended. She had looked at him in no particular way as she had walked over to him. His scars might have been surprising, but they were not as beastly as she had imagined. They told tales of past horror and pain, and she found herself wanting to hear the stories behind them.

She did not look away from his rich, chestnut eyes for fear of offending him if her eyes lingered on his scars. It took a great amount of self-control. She wanted nothing more than to study his face after never seeing a man like him, but she knew it would be inconsiderate.

"I only came over to welcome ye to our castle," she stated, trying to remain polite and non-confrontational. "I hope ye feel very welcome here."

She knew her father had much to gain from the wedding, and Laird MacPherson obviously had much to gain, too, but if all he was after was a wife and an heir, he could find that in other places. He had enough money to tempt many men to give up their daughters.

Yet, Holly did not want to do anything to ruin what her father had put in place.

She looked over her shoulder to where her sisters were talking among themselves. She did not need to hear what they were saying to know what they were talking about. She turned back to Ragnall and remained calm as she looked him in the eye, even though his scars stirred emotion within her again.

"Me Faither has invited ye to stay with us after the weddin'," Holly informed him. "Ye must meet me sisters."

And the familiar environment would work in her favor. Everything was new and happening so quickly. She had to adjust to becoming a married woman, and she would rather do that in her own home for a couple of days before traveling back to his castle with him. She would have her sisters around to help her.

"Nay," Ragnall stated. "There's nay need to stay. We will leave after the weddin'."

"Oh," was all she could utter in reply.

Her eyes darted around as she pondered what this meant. She had not meant to stare at his scars, but she did so anyway. They were not hideous, and she was not focused on them.

"Aye, take a good look at what ye are in for," Ragnall scoffed.

"I wasnae," Holly claimed, bringing her gaze back to his eyes. "I dinnae mind how ye look."

To prove her point, she lifted her hand to his face and placed her palm on his warm, scarred cheek.

Ragnall was shocked by her touch, but he quickly recovered and pushed her hand away. When he looked at her, it was not with disgust. He had not been touched by anyone else in a long time. For a moment, he was not a fearsome beast.

"Let's get this over with," he grunted. He turned away before she could respond, and the four men walked toward the keep.

Holly looked down at her hand, still feeling the warmth from his cheek.

"What did he say to ye?" Daisy asked.

"Were ye scared?" Lily asked.

Her sisters crowded around her, all of them asking questions. Holly couldn't pay much attention to what they were saying. All she could think about was how she might persuade Laird MacPherson to stay after the ceremony. She was not ready to become a wife, and she was certainly not ready to leave her home so suddenly.

"Come, sisters," she muttered. "We shan't keep Faither waitin'."

Holly strode off toward the keep and the chapel within, and her four sisters had no option but to follow her. They made their way inside and found their way to the chapel. Laird Gallacher was waiting for them.

"In ye go, lasses," Lochlan ordered.

The gaggle of girls all bade goodbye to their sister and entered the small chapel.

"Aye, ye look bonnie," Lochlan said. "Yer maither would be proud."

Holly took a deep breath. She had promised herself she would not cry about the memory of her mother and her mother not being around for her wedding.

"I'm ready to get this over with," she declared.

Lochlan nodded. He poked his head into the small chapel and instructed the harpist to begin playing. The music was melodic and flowing. Holly still felt like running, but this was not about her anymore. She was doing this for her sisters. It would benefit the clan, but her sisters were the most important thing.

"Thank ye for doin' this," Lochlan told her. "I ken this isnae easy, but ye are doin' the right thing."

"Because ye did the wrong thing," Holly reminded him.

She bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything more. It was supposed to be a joyous day, but she would not be in this position if it had not been for her father. The anger might subside over time, but it was at an all-time high on her wedding day.

"I ken I will never make it up to ye, but I will do better with yer sisters. That's me promise to ye," Lochlan said.

It was just about the best thing he could have said.

Holly leaned in and kissed her father on the cheek. Then, she took his arm. She was ready to get married.

She walked into the chapel on the arm of her father. She tried to find a bright spot in the day, but so far, there was none. The flowers in the chapel were meager, and the guests were sparse. The chapel was very small, and they had struggled to fill it.

As she walked past their assembled family members and close friends, they all gave her the same looks. On the surface were polite smiles filled with love for the bride on her wedding day. Below them was the question, do ye really want to marry him?

It was only her sisters who did not hide their true feelings. Their expressions were ones of love and acceptance. They knew what she was getting into, and all they could do was offer support as she waded into murky waters.

Lochlan led his daughter to the front of the chapel, where she was given to Laird MacPherson. Holly stood before Ragnall and looked into his eyes again. They would be beautiful eyes if they were not filled with such menace. His look seemed to challenge her again, but she would not make the same mistake. She would antagonize him no further, and perhaps he would stay for a while after the ceremony.

The clergyman began the ceremony with a small prayer. Everyone bowed their heads as the words echoed through the chapel. He then read some scripture before they moved on to the exchange of vows. Holly recited the words that had been given to her—generic and impersonal—and Laird MacPherson did the same. Then, the Laird gave her a simple silver ring that easily slipped onto her finger. Holly did not have anything to give him, but he didn't seem to expect anything.

She was his wedding gift.

"I now pronounce ye husband and wife," the clergyman announced.

There was a small cacophony of cheers around the room. The clergyman didn't mention anything about kissing the bride, nor did Ragnall make a move to do so. Holly was not sure she wanted to kiss him in front of everyone—she was afraid. Not afraid of how he looked, but afraid of him. She had never been intimidated by a man before, but there was a first time for everything.

It was done. Holly suddenly realized she was married. The ceremony was brief, but it passed faster than expected. Silence fell over the chapel, even though Holly could see people talking and laughing. Lochlan came to congratulate Ragnall, shaking his hand. Holly's sisters were there, saying things to her, but she could not hear any of them.

"I need some air," she gasped.

Someone took her arm, and a moment later, she found herself outside and gasping for air. It felt as if she had gone for a swim in a large lake and had resurfaced for air after exploring the lakebed. She hunched over, her stomach threatening to expel its contents. Someone patted her back. When she straightened up, she realized it was the Laird—her husband.

She instantly took a step back, surprised it had been him treating her so tenderly. As soon as she had, she realized how it must have looked. She stepped forward again, almost bumping into him.

"I apologize, Me Laird. It wasnae because of yer scars."

She had tried to apologize and explain, but it had only made things worse. Any tenderness that might have been inside Laird MacPherson quickly evaporated, and he glared at her. It was then that she noticed they were not alone outside the chapel. She did not know if she had been overheard, but that mattered little. Ragnall had heard.

"How about we talk less about me wounds?" he suggested.

"Of course," Holly stammered out.

Ragnall was about to walk away, but she grabbed his arm. She knew instantly it was not something he appreciated. If she were a man, he might have lashed out at her.

"Me Faither has been saving some good whisky. I ken he would like to share it with ye on this special occasion."

Ragnall continued to glare at her, not responding to the suggestion. Holly let go of his arm, and when she did, he turned to speak with her father.

Maybe he is amicable.

"We will dance the night away," Lily said, skipping around Holly.

"I know this isnae what ye wanted, but ye must promise us ye will still have fun on yer weddin' day," Rose added.

"I will try," Holly replied noncommittally.

"When ye look at the side of his face, he doesnae look all that bad," Lily noted. "The side without the scars, of course."

"Stop talkin' about his scars," Holly warned.

"I was only sayin'," Lily said placatingly.

"Aye, well, I'm sure he doesnae like havin' people talk about him like that," Holly countered.

Ragnall finished talking with Lochlan and returned to his wife. The four sisters formed a line behind her.

"There is to be a celebration," Holly told him. "It might be nice to stay and have some fun."

"Nay," Ragnall uttered. "I've had some of yer things packed, and a coach is waitin' for us. Say goodbye to yer sisters and then meet me at the coach. I want to leave now."

"Aye, of course," Holly said.

She would cry later.