She inhaled deeply, mustering the little strength and courage that she had left. With a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, Keira finally nodded her agreement to Raphael’s plan for a marriage of convenience.
She understood the practicality of the arrangement, and the need to protect her reputation and her family name. But deep down, she felt a profound sense of loss, as if her dreams of love and passion were slipping through her fingers.
“Aye?” he asked, walking up to her.
She stood her ground. “Yes.”
He smiled as if there was a reason to smile. He took her by the hand again, leading her back to the drawing room.
“We shall announce to everyone at the cèilidh tomorrow that Lady Keira and I are to wed,” Raphael informed his mother and Keira’s parents the moment they returned to the drawing room.
This was met with an eruption of joy and excitement from both their families. He watched as the Duchess embraced her daughter with an expression of delight. Their mothers beamed with pride and happiness, grateful that there would, despite everything, be a wedding.
“Oh, I have to tell the cook to add some more cakes for tomorrow!” Raphael heard his mother say as she clapped her hands with joy. He had no idea what cakes had to do with their announcement, but he didn’t dwell on that for too long.
Their parents proceeded to engage in a boisterous conversation, and the drawing room was filled with the cheerful chatter of Keira’s mother and Elspeth discussing plans for the upcoming cèilidh, their expectations for the betrothal announcement, and various other topics.
“Why, Keira must have a gown worthy of the occasion!” The Duchess gasped at the realization that they had not prepared for any such event.
“Oh, dinnae ye worry.” Elspeth waved her hand in reassurance. “We have more than enough splendid gowns here for her to take her pick. They are all made of the finest silk that Scotland has to offer.”
“That is most kind of you.” Keira’s mother smiled warmly. “What about the music? We were hoping you might have someone play the waltz or…”
The women’s voices slowly died down, and Raphael could barely hear anything apart from the aggressive buzzing in his ears. He couldn’t imagine that after everything that had happened, gowns and cakes were their biggest concern.
That moment, the Duke approached Keira and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “I am proud of you, Keira. You made the right choice,” he said before excusing himself to take some air.
Keira didn’t reply, but then she had barely said a word at all since she had left Raphael’s study.
For Raphael, the silence between him and Keira weighed heavily on his mind. He couldn’t help but be acutely aware of the complexities of their situation and the sacrifices they were making for the sake of duty and honor.
While their families talked animatedly, he exchanged occasional glances with Keira, their eyes communicating the unspoken emotions that swirled between them.
He had no idea how all this would end, but now that the storm had started, he would either end up alive on a shore, with a friend holding his hand, or he would find his death in the dark, murky waters.
Friend.
His body and mind protested at the idea of Keira being hisfriend, but he knew that was all she could ever be. For her own good.
21
Raphael hadn’t seen Keira after they had made the announcement to their parents the night before, and he hated to think that she thought of him as little as she did of her ex-fiancé. Surely she wouldn’t need to go on adventures with another man, in another country, now that she was his.
His.
He somehow liked and dreaded the sound of it. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her, and, as much as he hated to admit it,hewas the worst thing that could happen to her. He knew that, but he still couldn’t stop himself from looking for her. He hoped that she could at least enjoy herself here.
The grand hall of his castle had been transformed into a lively and vibrant setting for the cèilidh, a celebration that brought together a diverse assembly of guests. The room was adorned with colorful banners, tapestries, and flickering candlelight, casting a warm and inviting glow over the proceedings.
Guests from various regions of Scotland had gathered, dressed in an array of vivid tartans and elaborate fabrics that added to the festivity of the occasion. The ladies wore flowing gowns of silk and satin, adorned with intricate lace and ribbons in the colors of their clans.
The atmosphere was joyful, unlike Raphael’s mood, as laughter and cheerful conversation flowed freely in the rich Scottish brogue. The guests mingled, and the room buzzed with the delight of the occasion. The heady aroma of traditional Scottish fare, including haggis and whiskey, wafted through the air, and a sumptuous banquet table beckoned guests to partake in a feast of delights.
Raphael stood in the corner, observing the gathering. He wore a tailored, dark green tartan kilt, its rich fabric adorned with the unique pattern of his clan.
The kilt was secured with a decorative belt featuring a gleaming silver buckle that bore the emblem of his family, a symbol of his lineage and heritage. Below the kilt, he wore a pair of knee-high white stockings, which were held up by ornate garters featuring more silver accents.
On his upper body, he wore a crisp, ruffled white shirt with a high, stiff collar that added an air of sophistication to his attire. Over the shirt, he wore a traditional Scottish doublet made of luxurious, deep green velvet, with intricate silver embroidery and buttons.
