“Aye, exactly that kind of woman.”
“Weel, do ye think what we did just now will make Cecily stop playing that too-sweet lass?”
“Nay, not yet. That was just for putting another log on the fire, so to speak, to burn all that nonsense away.”
“Why, Meg, that was, weel, poetical, if I do say so myself.”
“Ye may.” She laughed along with Crooked Cat.
Cecily frowned at her dresses. They were laid out on top of every available piece of furniture. Her uncle had been very generous, especially with all the gowns left by each of his late wives. Most of them would require a great deal of reworking and could not be done in time for the wedding. That left her with few choices once she removed the few gowns that no one would wear to their own wedding.
Finally, she chose a simple green one, set it aside, and put the others back in the chest. It was going to be difficult to look as if she was a cherished or particularly important bride in that simple gown, but since she was neither, it did not matter. It was a shame that she did not have her trousseau from Dunburn, but wearing the clothes bought for her marriage to another man might be one of those things that was considered bad luck. The very last thing she needed was bad luck.
Glancing at the small box Artan’s mother had sent back with Bennet, she wondered if wearing the dark garnet pendant the woman sent her as a bridal gift would be acceptable. She had been touched by the woman’s generosity. It made her eager to meet Artan’s family even as it made her terrified to do so. Everything Artan had told her about his family indicated that it was large, boisterous, and friendly. After a great deal of thought, Cecily admitted she did not know how to deal with such people. In truth, she knew very little about dealing with any people, having been kept very isolated at Dunburn.
Opening the little box, she took out the pendant to admire it and to try to come to some decision. Cecily also admitted to herself that some of her fascination was due to the fact that itwasa gift. She had never had one before. Suddenly, she noticed that under the little velvet patch lining the box was a piece of parchment. She cautiously opened it and read it, then had to sit down. Artan’s mother had written her a very cheerful welcoming note filled with odd motherly details about Artan and not all of them flattering. Cecily could almost hear the woman chatting with her as if they had known each other for years.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she quickly put the letter back in the box. The letter had decided the matter of whether or not to wear the pendant tomorrow. She would honor Artan’s mother by wearing the woman’s gift proudly. She just hoped she could do the woman’s son proud, too.
“I dinnae think I ought to wear my hair down, Crooked Cat.” Cecily sat, wincing a little as Crooked Cat fought a little roughly with a stubborn snarl.
“Ye were a virgin when ye married, werenae ye?”
“Of course.”
“Nay of course about, lass. Fewer are than ye would think.”
“That still doesnae mean I should break with tradition.”
“Ye were virgin for your handfast wedding. This is the proper church one. ’Tis just the same thing with a more important fellow telling ye are wed.” Crooked Cat studied Cecily very closely. “Are ye laughing?”
“Nay, of course not. Have it as ye will then. I will wear my hair down.”
“It will go so fine with the green gown and that garnet.”
Meg arrived and Cecily gave up all hope of having a say in what she should wear at her own wedding. She did admit, however, that she looked beautiful when they were done with her. She was no longer concerned about the rightness of wearing her hair down, either. She felt it was perfect that way for a wedding, even if it was a second one.
Suddenly, she sharply missed her father. Colin had been too young to be a big part of her life, and her mother had been gone before her father. Cecily wished he could see her as a bride and that he could be alive to hand her to her husband.
She had Angus, she told herself, and he was a very good uncle. In truth, although she was too old for a father, Angus had slowly eased into that place in all but name and she did not mind. Cecily knew that her father would have welcomed her and Angus making a family. Angus had a lot of cousins, but no direct family. It was the same for her in many ways. Angus was her closest relative and she was his.
When Angus entered the great hall and started walking toward her, Cecily had to smile. Angus was a big, strong man, and even some of the much younger women in the room watched him. When Artan walked into the great hall and every female in the room, as well as several peering in through the doors, watched him stride over to her, she did not find that so amusing. Cecily decided then and there that someone needed to make a rule that said women do not ogle the groom at a wedding. The next rule should be that, if they do, they are then subject to whatever punishment the bride chooses, such as a box full of spiders—on their head.
Feeling better at that thought, Cecily turned to smile at Artan. He did look as handsome as any man had a right to be. She was suddenly all too aware of the fact that this was a man any woman would want and far too many would not consider the fact that he had a little red-haired freckled wife an impediment. He had said he would be faithful and she saw no sign that he was a man who had to look or smile at every pretty woman he saw, but they looked at him a lot. At his age, he had to be fully aware of the temptations flung his way, but had he accepted or rejected most of them, and if he had accepted a lot, could he now refuse them? It was something she did not really want to think of on her wedding day, but since he had never offered her any words of love, she could not shake the sudden fear that gripped her so tightly.
“Ye look beautiful, Sile mine,” he said as he took her hand in his and actually kissed her palm with everyone watching.
Cecily leaned a little closer to him, and said softly, “Ye are looking rather beautiful yourself.” The smile he gave her took her breath away. Cecily so badly wanted this man to love her she feared she could easily make an utter fool of herself. For one brief moment she actually considered running, out of the great hall and out of the keep and out of the gates of Glascreag. She quickly stiffened her spine. If nothing else, she would not humiliate her uncle in such a way.
“Come, lass,” he said, holding her hand near his hip as he tugged her toward the dais table where the priest waited for them. “Time to get the church’s blessings.”
The priest was a very young man and was nervous. Surreptiously looking around as she knelt beside Artan, Cecily decided she really did not blame the man. The great hall was crowded with MacReith warriors, and warriors seemed unable to go anywhere without a weapon. If an enemy was foolish enough to think it was safe to attack because of this solemn occasion, he would quickly and fatally find out otherwise.
When it was done, Artan gently pulled her to her feet and kissed her. The hoots and random, somewhat crude suggestions were deafening. Even more deafening was her uncle bellowing orders to watch their tongues. The occasional hooting and foot stomping continued, but Cecily was pleased that advice on what she and Artan should do in their bedchamber had almost completely disappeared. The ones who felt compelled to say something did so quietly.
“Been a mon’s keep too long, lass,” her uncle said to her as he took his seat at the head of the table. He nodded at Meg, who was seated on his left to Cecily’s surprise, and Meg’s by the look of it.
“I think there is much the same at all weddings,” she said. “I havenae been to any, but I have heard the talk about them afterward.”
