Page 54 of Sinbound to the Highlander
“He was me big brother’s best friend and only saw me as the runty little sister and teased me to tears. But then, he went off to Edina for five years and came back. To me surprise, he asked for me hand. I kent of throwing cattle dung in his face. But he proved himself.”
“I feel bad,” Freya replied. “Very bad. I daenae ken I’ll ever feel less guilty that I did this to Elspeth.”
“Nay Dear, I love me daughter, but Elspeth did this to herself,” her mother rubbed her back. “I never expected this, aye, but I’m nay unhappy. Ye will have a happy life if ye decide to love this man, and I have an inkling that ye’re halfway there.” Lady Grace kissed Freya’s temple.
“I still feel guilty for Elspeth, I never planned for this to happen,” Freya mourned, “I fear she’ll hate me.”
“I understand,” Lady Grace said. “But Elspeth will rebound, Freya. She had nay lack of suitors that will come and marry her, but it will have to be a while. Do ye ken why I left to speak to the Laird Ruthven?Iwas the one who pulled her out of the engagement. I went to tell him that Elspeth is too childish to marry; she needs to become a woman first.”
“Is it too late to send for me parents?” Freya asked. “I would like for them to be here.”
“I can ask,” Lady Grace replied. “But I kent Laird Ruthven would be canny enough to have sent for them already.”
Shooting a look at her wardrobe, Freya stood, “Would ye mind helping me choose a dress for tonight?”
Lady Grace joined her, “I’d love naythin’ more.”
* * *
“The night’s feast will be followed on the morrow with a tournament of games and wrestling matches,” Evan said in her ear. “I’ll allow ye to set the time for the wedding day.”
Freya heard him but could only focus on what was before her, and that was the celebratory feast. Evan was at her side, but they were not entering as yet. The large hall was illuminated by great blazing torches on the walls, thick tallow candles set in bronze candlesticks on the long trestle tables.
Magnificent tapestries that Freya had never seen graced the walls, a predominant one that rested behind the main table, depicting a fierce battle. A warrior in Ruthven’s clan's colors was on the back of a massive horse brandishing a sword. The stone floor had been swept and then strewn with fresh rushes.
Freya lingered at the doorway, trying not to fidget or pluck at her pale-green dress with a scooped bodice, and long sleeves. The hall was filling in, and from where she stood, she spotted food being arranged on the high table. Simply dressed servants rushed to and fro, endlessly filling and refilling goblets from the kegs in the kitchen.
Evan’s hand reached for hers, and she held it, lacing her fingers with his. Ever exemplary dressed, Evan had another variation of his great kilt, this time the hue of the blue, a deep-royal color, and the gray light as silver, clothing his tall, lean body. Stretched tautly across Evan’s broad shoulders and muscular chest, the kilt fell to his knees, its ends meeting the tops of fine leather boots.
“If this were summer, segments of the wall would have bunches of white heather, thistle, and sage hanging from the rafters, and on the walls, to herald good luck, protection, wisdom, and good health,” Evan murmured in her ear.
Minstrels started to play, and Evan’s grip on her hand firmed, “Please, it’s our time.”
Footsteps behind her alerted Freya to her family’s arrival, Lady Grace was beaming, and her father’s chin was notched up in pride. Elspeth was in a lovely blue dress, and she looked non-perturbed. Lady Grace had said that Elspeth was not mad, and Freya was beginning to believe it.
“Now that we’re all here,” Evan said, nodding to her family. “Let’s enter. Maither is coming with a maid helpin’ her down.”
Walking in, Freya did not take a breath until Evan helped her into her chair, beside his, just as Laird Lobhdain helped his wife and Elspeth into theirs. His mother came in, dressed in a long maroon dress, and her hair braided in a coronet around her head.
Nervously, Freya reached for her goblet of mead while Lady Ruthven was settled in. Evan grasped a goblet and lifted it, “Hear, hear!”
The chatter dimmed, and as soon as he held their attention, he lifted his voice higher, “To me treasured guests, I stand before ye a newly engaged man…” a roar made Freya wince, while he turned and held out his hand for her to stand, “and me bride-to-be is the lovely Miss Freya Crushom, daughter of Laird and Lady Lobhdain.”
With the many eyes on her, Freya held her composure and stopped from shrinking away. The gleeful cheers counterbalanced the eyes running over her, but these were not sinking under her skin with the flaying look of judging eyes, as she had feared.
Sinking into her seat, she reached for her glass with a steady hand.
“The times are still uncertain, but we have happier ones on the horizon,” Evan called. “They are soon here!”
Bowing his head, Evan went to his seat and, resting the gold goblet on the table, reached under the table to grasp Freya’s hand. Leaning his head, he whispered in her ear, “Are ye happy,m'eudail?”
“The happiest,” Freya returned as her eyes met those of her birth mother, and she saw warmth in her gaze. “I just wish Maither and Faither could be here.”
“T’was a little late, but I sent them word,” Evan replied while pulling his hand away. “If they are nae here tonight, they’ll be here on the morrow.”
Happy and relieved, Freya turned to her food and started to take part in the feast, loving the noise of happiness and joy around her. The minstrels strolled among the tables strumming their stringed instruments, often stopping here and there to play a favored tune for a coin. Countless toasts were shouted over the din, given with hale heartiness for the happiness of the betrothed couple
As the night went on, Laird and Lady Lobhdain made their excuse and left, with Elspeth in tow. Soon, Lady Ruthven left as well, but not before kissing Freya on the cheek and whispering, “Welcome to the family, me Dear.”
