Page 13 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
The morning his betrothed was due to arrive at her new home, Magnus couldn’t drag himself out of his study. His man-at-arms was in here, talking him through a few things, but it was not as if Magnus had any trouble kicking the man out. No, he was trapped here only by his own mind.
Ewan continued to chat endlessly, but Magnus wasn’t hearing any of it—he was too focused on the memory of Ciara. Of her poise and her spirit. She kept him on his toes in a way he’d never experienced before.
Welcoming the lass into his home seemed far too real. He had requested her presence and an expedited wedding, but he felt… nervous about her arrival? No, that couldn’t be right.
Magnus couldn’t recall the last time he’d ever been nervous, for anger was his ever-present companion. And happiness, on occasion when he was younger. But nervousness wasn’t an emotion he was familiar with, so this had to be something else. Maybe he was ill, his stomach was certainly feeling… off.
“Ewan,” he interrupted whatever the other man had been speaking about.
“Aye, Me Laird.”
“Do I look ill to ye?” Magnus asked, putting a hand on his head to check for warmth.
“Ill?” Ewan asked in confusion.
“Aye, Ewan, ill. Do ye ken the meaning of the word?” Magnus replied sharply.
His man-at-arms paled a little before he nodded. “Aye, Me Laird, I do. Are ye feelin’ ill? Shall I get the healer?”
Magnus sighed and muttered, “Never mind.” He rested his head in his hands. Ciara already had him in a spiral.
“Very well,” Ewan said slowly. “Should I continue with me updates?”
Magnus just nodded and gestured for him to get on with it. If he was going to be stuck in this room all day, might as well try and get something done.
Although, he didn’t end up hearing any of the words out of his man-at-arms’ mouth. No, Magnus continued to think about his betrothed and wondering whether she was in his castle at that very moment.
Was she finally home?
* * *
Far too early the next morning, a carriage arrived to take Ciara to her new home. Her parents and brother were waiting by the front door to see her and Lana off. Her mother’s eyes were filling with tears, but she wiped each one away before they could fall.
Ciara hugged her brother first. Being the least emotional one of the group, he seemed like a safe place to start.
“Dinnae take any of his shite, Ci,” Alexander said to her as they embraced.
She smiled against his shoulder. “I willnae, Alex,” she reassured him.
With a last, quick squeeze, he released her and went to hug Lana.
Ciara turned to find her red-eyed mother next in line. Her mother stood a bit shorter than her, so Ciara wrapped her into her arms.
“It means a lot Ciara, to all of us,” her mother told her, her voice cracking a bit.
Ciara just nodded because emotions were clogging her own throat now.
Finally, Ciara stood across from her father and her mentor. He had always encouraged her even when what she wanted wasn’t typical of a Laird’s daughter. When she dreamed of working outside the castle, he had helped make it happen. And he stood by her side, whenever she turned down a marriage proposal.
A few proposals had come up over the years, and when Ciara declined, her father had always backed her. She knew he would have never forced her into a marriage, but his words yesterday in the study confirmed it.
She sighed. It was tough to imagine not spending her nights by the fire in her father’s study anymore. Nor celebrating her wins with a nice glass of whiskey together with her family.
After a long, charged moment, her father drew her into a tight hug and whispered to her, “Thank ye.”
The lump in Ciara’s throat only got thicker when she heard the emotion in her warrior of a father’s voice. But she swallowed down the tears and linked arms with her sister. Together, they walked towards the carriage and into the unknown.
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