Page 73 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
“Is that what ye’re wearin’?” Jackson seemed to notice the gown for the first time, his eyebrows raised.
Anna shrugged. “It was the only suitable thing I had.”
“Ye’re goin’ to make Maither faint and Faither curse,” Jackson teased, offering out his arm.
“Aye, well I willnae be their problem after today,” Anna replied, taking the proffered arm.
Leading her to the door, Jackson leaned in. “What do the words say?”
“That’s for me to ken,” she said, steeling her resolve as she stepped out into the hallway, ready to settle for the only life Gordon could offer.
In truth, she couldn’t wait for it to be over: the years of not knowing if she’d be grabbed in the night or bartered to the highest bidder or simply told who she’d be marrying without any consideration for her wishes. It was the smallest of silver linings, yet, just as the fortune teller had said, she was determined to seek out the light. When everything else seemed so dark and gloomy, it was the only thing shecoulddo.
“Ye look nervous,” Matthew said, standing at Gordon’s side in the chapel: a beautiful part of the castle, almost identical to the gallery where Anna had seen her betrothed’s old portrait, before war and torture had altered his face forever forever.
“I’m nae.” Gordon glanced back at the doors, filled with an eerie sense of calm: the serenity that came before a battle. It was what made him such a skilled warrior, his ability to keep a clear head when chaos surrounded him.
“Tired, then?”
Gordon looked at his uncle, giving nothing away. “Maybe. I had a long night.”
“Ye did? What were ye doin’? Were ye with yer betrothed?” Matthew smiled.
Gordon kept his voice even, his face a mask. “I was tendin’ to somethin’.”
“Aye, that’s very like ye.” Matthew laughed stiffly, letting his gaze wander around the sparsely populated chapel.
The guests numbered five, at present: Sophia, Matthew, Beathan, and Anna’s parents, Louisa and Thomas. Presumably, Jackson would be the one leading Anna in, if she chose to come at all. Gordon had considered conjuring up some kind of reason to keep her in her chambers, just in case, but he knew it might look suspicious. As such, everything needed to proceed as if nothing was wrong.
Matthew frowned. “Where’s David? He should be here already.”
“He will be,” Gordon replied, attention fixed on those doors, willing Anna to walk through, despite everything.
As soon as she was inside, his guards would fill the hallway, making sure that no one dared to execute the plan David had mentioned. No stragglers who still thought they might get paid if they killed Anna, and hadn’t yet heard that the ringleader had been compromised.
The breath abandoned Gordon’s lungs as the doors opened, pushed wide to reveal his bride. She was resplendent, her copper hair gleaming as the light through the glass dome shone down on her, like heaven itself had wanted to identify one of its angels. Her pale skin glowed, her green eyes bright, albeit slightly too wide, as though she was trying to fight off her nerves.
And the dress…
He almost smiled at the sight of it, his gaze roving over the gauzy panels that had tormented him once before, and seemed determined to do so again. There were new words etched upon her skin, beneath that thin veil of material, written in that looping, indecipherable hand to leave him guessing.
Did ye want to make it impossible for me to let ye go?
Her brother frowned at the amount of empty pews, as if he’d expected a larger attendance, while Anna didn’t let her attention wander at all, her focus fixed on Gordon. Yet, there was no radiant smile on her face, none of the vitality and warmth that he had come to cherish, no laughter or joy or mischief in her eyes.It was like a cloud passing across the sun, her light subdued, and he had no doubt that he was the storm, blotting it out.
“Take good care of her,” Jackson said, passing Anna’s hand into Gordon’s as brother and sister reached the altar. “If ye daenae , I willnae fight ye, but I’ll borrow me faither’s army.”
Gordon inclined his head. “There’ll be nay war because of me; I promise ye that.”
As Jackson stepped away and took his seat beside the rest of his family, Gordon couldn’t resist the impulse to place his fingertips beneath Anna’s chin, tilting her head up gently so she had no choice but to look at him. Her eyes were clouded over with melancholy, still offering no smile for him.
“Ye came,” he said.
“Aye, I did.” She frowned a little. “Did ye think I’d run?”
He shook his head. “Nay.” He paused, lightly stroking her cheek. “All of this will be over soon, lass.”
And when it is, ye might even smile at me again.
