“Caelan, are ye sure ye want to go through with this?” Isla asked.

Caelan laughed and shook his head, exasperated. Isla knew she had asked the question too many times, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Ah asked ye to marry me, me bonnie Isla. Ah wouldnae have asked if Ah didn’t want ye as ma wife.”

She marvelled that his voice was still gentle after all the times she had obsessively asked him that question. She was not used to a man like this; strong, but tender. If she had asked her father the same question twice, let alone a dozen times, he would have struck her.

Isla made herself grin. She was excited to marry Caelan, but apprehensive, too. Not for herself; for him. He was a laird, and she was a nobody. A runaway from an abusive father. A father who left everything in his wake dead, burned, stolen, or, for the women, worse. That was her family’s legacy; murder and pillaging. What did she have to offer him?

Caelan seemed to read her thoughts. Smiling, he stood and took her by the shoulders. “Look at me, lass.”

She did, meeting his beautiful dark eyes. His eyes were strikingly soft and open. Not at all like the men she had been raised to know.

“Ah love ye, and Ah want ye to be part of me life. We’ve been over this. Ah ken that ye dinnae have family--that father of yours hardly counts,” he spat, his eyes going hard for just a moment before he met her gaze and softened again. “Ye will make a wonderful Lady. Ah dinnae care that ye dinnae have a dowry. Ah want ye, Isla. Ah had hoped ye would believe that after the times we’ve been together.”

She blushed. Caelan didn’t mind talking about the physical part of their relationship, but it still made her blush every time. They were not even married. Not yet.

But today was the day.

“Ye had best go get ready. Ah will, too,” he added, stepping away from her. “We dinnae want to be late for our own weddin’.”

Nodding, Isla went to get ready. She had been in the castle at North Berwick for eight months now--plenty of time for her and Caelan to get to know each other. Even after all this time, she could hardly believe that she had caught the eye of a laird.

The others in the castle didn’t know who she truly was. They didn’t know that her father was Bhaltair, the leader of the dreaded band of raiders who had attacked here just months ago. She knew in her heart that they would never accept her--never truly trust her--if they knew her secret.

Would they trust her anyway? She was an outsider, a nobody, here to marry the laird. She had no status at all. Of course nobody had said a word to her about it. Nobody would dare cross Caelan in his own castle, but she had seen the side-glances some of the others in the castle gave her, no matter their status or gender. She was an outsider here.

She got ready as quickly as she could, her anxiety hastening her. She and Caelan would need to be to the kirk by noon. Everyone would be waiting. Caelan had no parents, but Griogair would be there. Caelan’s loyal advisor was like a father to him. He seemed to trust Isla, but he was one of their few supporters. That was what it felt like to her, anyway, even though Caelan assured her that people here liked her. And Forba would be there, too. She was as good as a mother to Caelan.

Isla went into her bathing chamber, and then stopped dead in her tracks. She barely stifled a groan. Iona, Aileene, and Forba were there. Iona and Forba were the maidservants that Caelan  had assigned to her months back, and they sometimes wanted to help her do everyday things, such as bathing. She was perfectly capable of washing herself, and preferred to do so.

“Aileene? What are ye doing here?” Isla asked.

Aileene--the first friend Isla had made here--grinned at her. “Ah couldnae miss your weddin’ day, now could I? Get oot of that dress! We’ve got work to do!”

Rolling her eyes, Isla disrobed and got into the bath. The water was pleasantly warm, and they had put rose petals in it. A nice touch, as it would add a little extra perfume to her skin. It was her wedding day after all, and she needed to make it special.

Iona brushed out Isla’s hair, and it was all Isla could do not to cringe under the women’s eyes. It was easier to just accept the help, though. Arguing went nowhere with these people, and they would be more stubborn with Aileene here to support them. We should just send Aileene out to take care of the raiders. She’d cuss their ears and send them back home to their mothers.

“Excited?” Aileene asked, and Isla suddenly realized she was grinning like a fool. She quickly looked down.

“Yes. Excited,” she said quickly.

Aileene gave her a skeptical look. For a woman only Isla’s age--just nineteen--she had the authority of a seanmhair. Her eyes were the color of iron, and every bit as hard. Oh, she could be soft--in fact, she often was--but she was not a woman that Isla would like to cross. Her hair was pulled back into an intricate blonde braid. She always did look immaculate.

Iona washed Isla’s hair while Forba washed her skin.

“Ah made yer bridescake,” Aileene said.

Isla felt an unexpected pang as she looked up at her friend. Aileene had become like a sister to her, but this brought mixed feelings of gratitude and loss. Gratitude that Aileene cared enough to step in and make sure the wedding was perfect. Loss, because the mother of the bride was supposed to be the one to make the bridescake. Only, she had no idea where Mother was, or if she was still alive. She hadn’t seen her since she was nine. It was hard to believe that was a decade ago. She suspected that Father had killed her in one of his rages, but she had no proof, and, to be honest with herself, she was afraid of what she would find if she sought the truth.

“Ah’m sorry, Isla,” Aileene said, and Isla was surprised to hear the pain in her voice. “Ah only wanted to help ye. To make sure yer weddin’ is perfect.”

Isla quickly shook her head, angry at herself for letting her shock show. Yer no better than a child when it comes to controlling yer expressions, Isla. She used to be better at that. Then again, it had been a matter of survival when she had been with her father. Any weakness would have been exploited, so she had been tough. Yer gettin’ soft, ye fool girl. “Naw, Aileene. Ah’m grateful that ye would help me like that.”

Alieene’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Ah dinnae want to overstep…”

“Naw, Aileene. Thank ye. Will ye take Mother’s place during the ceremony, then?”

“Ah’d be honored.” Aileene’s grin suddenly became cheeky, and she curtsied. “Ma Lady Isla.”

Isla groaned and dunked herself under the water, both to rinse her hair and to escape Alienne. Then she came up, wiped the water from her eyes, and glared at Aileene. “Ah dinnae want to hear that from any of the three of ye. Not in private, anyway. Yer my friends. I dinnae just want ye to see me as the lady now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Aileene grinned. “Ye know ye’ll get no reverence from me.”

Isla smiled back.

“Ah think a little respect may be in order, Aileene,” Forba said. Forba was an older lady, her hair done a dark gray that she usually let loose around her shoulders, but today it was pulled up into an intricate braid similar to Aileene’s. Her eyes were pale blue and missed nothing. Forba was the closest thing Caelan had to a mother. Come to think of it, though, she may not want to voice that; if Forba was the closest thing to Caelan’s mother and Griogar to his father… Isla suppressed a grin. They would either be perfect together, or they would kill each other.

“Lady Isla is marrying the laird today,” Forba continued, and she looked like a proud mother at that moment.

“I hadnae heard,” Aileene said innocently, her gray eyes going wide. “Will it be a big ceremony?” Aileene never could resist provoking Forba. They had apparently had some dispute, long before Isla’s arrival, about Aileene’s propriety. She was the head midwife, and she talked openly on the subject, which Forba hated. Heaven knew she made Isla blush with her talk, too.

“Girls,” Iona said, “it’s the weddin’ day. Let’s not start squabblin’ now. We’ve work to do.” She reached down and helped Isla out of the tub. She was a sturdy woman, in her thirties, and had a quick smile. Her auburn hair was in a thick bun. “Let’s not keep the laird waitin’.”

They helped Isla with everything; her hair, her makeup, her dress. It was all perfect. Iona had put the finishing details on the dress; tiny white roses embroidered along the neckline. They all hugged Isla by turns, and then they went to take the carriage to the church. It wouldn’t do to be late.

“Isla,” Iona said carefully once they were in the carriage. “Will yer family be attendin’ the weddin’?”

Isla’s heart plunged. She hated keeping secrets, but it was best that only she, Caelan, and Griogair knew her father’s identity. At this point, a misstep could get the wedding cancelled. Worse, it may get her killed.

“No. Caelan is family enough for me,” she smiled weakly. “Caelan, and ye three.”

READ THE FULL STORY  HERE >> https://amzn.to/3kctRUs