CHAPTER 1
The smellof primrose drifted up from the bouquet through Ava’s veil. Small floral arrangements and bunting were placed delicately all over the kirk.
There were far more people here than she had expected.
The land was about to plunge back into the cold. By God’s grace, she was not freezing, for it was the middle of winter. It was oddly sunny and warm. The exact opposite of how she felt inside...
Her nerves zinged with anticipation. She desperately wished she were at home, in the barn, chasing kittens through the hay, or curled up in her chair by the window, reading a book. She did not wish to be getting married to her best friend.
She peered through the open door of the small kirk, trying to spot her sisters, to no avail.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her elbow. She turned her head to see her uncle pulling her back.
“That was rude!” she hissed.
“Ye daenae want to see me rude, lassie. Get going.”
Ava sighed. Of course he’d say something like that. Getting her married had been on his mind for months. At least she had escaped a groom of his choice. She considered that a victory. She was sure she had bested her blasted uncle this time.
Though getting married did not truly feel like truly beating Archibald Dougal, the Laird of Clan MacFinn.… It felt more like a death sentence.
When she had finally agreed to get married, she was not expecting anyone besides immediate family to be present. However, there were enough people to form a small army.
And no sign of the groom at the altar yet.
For a moment she allowed herself to be hopeful. But she knew she should not be. Her heart sank at the thought of tying herself to a man, but she had no other option.
“Ye either marry or end up on the streets. I willnae care for ye nay longer,”her uncle had said exactly one month ago.
“It is yer duty.”
“I’d rather die.”
“Then die married. I already have plenty of suitors lined up.”It made her sick to think about, truthfully. He was pawning her off for the sake of posterity. Her father would have never done such a thing. Her dowry was not even worth blinking an eye at. Yet here she was, in her wedding dress, trying to avoid a fate so distasteful it made her want to spit.
Her deep green gown, silver belt, and rosemary wreath were nothing overly special, but she was clearly a bride in her ensemble. No one else was walking down the aisle. Even though she deeply wished someone else would take her place.
I wish Faither were alive. He wouldnae have married me off. At least I can trust Finlay nae to force me to be a lady and manage a house.
The fiddle started playing at the front, and her uncle offered her his arm. She took it, and together they stepped into the kirk and started the walk down the aisle.
There was still no sign of Finlay at the altar. Perhaps he was standing to the side, where she could not see him.
Finlay was her best friend and closest ally, aside from her sisters. They had known each other since childhood. He had agreed tomarry her to save her from marrying some old geezer chosen by her uncle.
The very prospect sent a chill down her spine.
“Stop scowling, lass,” her uncle said through a grin that more resembled a snarl. “Ach, I shouldnae have agreed to this.” He gave a small nod to another laird they passed.
“I may be marryin’ because ye said so, but that doesnae mean I’ll followeveryorder ye have for me,” Ava muttered under her breath, an alligator’s grin plastered on her face. “Ye wouldnae reject a perfect proposal from a perfect guard now, would ye?”
The slow walk down the aisle felt more like a march to the chopping block.
“He’s from a warring clan, Ava. Ye could have married Laird MacAinsley instead.” Her uncle’s eyes assessed her before he went back to smiling at the gathered congregation there to witness her demise.
“Uncle! That man is even older than ye!”
“Ye’d be the Lady of his clan, and we’d have a strong alliance.”
