Thomas chuckled, opening his mouth so that she could pop in a berry. His eyes crinkled at the bitter taste, but he chewed diligently.
“I thought brass berries tasted good.”
“Only when they’re dried. These are fresh. Lucky ye, eh?”
Thomas pulled a face. “Not so much.” His eyelids were already drooping, the berry doing its work.
There was a rap at the door from outside.
“Can I come in yet?” Dominic asked. “It’s just that it’s starting to rain out here.”
EPILOGUE
Two Weeks Later
“We’re out of lionweed again,” Delphine remarked.
“I’ll go get some,” Emma said, reaching for her shawl.
“Ye are going nowhere without an escort, lassie.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Lachlan McCade is dead. Gregor is dead. There’s no one left to do me harm. I’ll be quite safe.”
Delphine was unmoved. “I’ve lost ye once, and I’ll not lose ye again. It would fairly kill the poor Laird.”
Emma hid a smile. She glanced down at her hand, admiring the way her ring glittered on her finger. Moss agate. That sounded right, considering how much time she spent digging around in grass, earth, and moss for herbs and roots. She couldn’t wear the ring while she was working, of course, so it hung on a chain around her neck.
The news of the betrothal had gone around the Keep like wildfire. There were a few people who loudly and angrily disapproved, of course. A laird marrying a healer? Not even a full healer, but anapprenticeone at that? Shocking.
Thomas quite clearly couldn’t care about any of those people. Not one bit. Not, of course, that anyone was foolish enough to voice their opinions in front of him. Or in front of Emma.
Or Delphine, for that matter. Just the other day, she’d cracked a councilor over the head with her cane for insinuating that Emma had seduced the Laird with herWomanly Wiles, whatever they were.
“I’ll go and get the lionweed,” Emma insisted. “It’ll only take me a minute.”
Delphine laid a gnarled hand on her shoulder. “If ye think ye are going out alone the night before yer wedding, ye had another think coming. Ye ought to rest. Tomorrow will be a big day.”
Emma tingled at the thought of that. The idea of becoming Lady MacPherson frankly terrified her, but becoming Thomas’s wife… well, that was something else entirely.
During their two-week betrothal, there’d been no repeat of that night in poor Dominic’s study. They’d kissed once or twice, but mostly, the business of Thomas’s recovery and the work they both had to catch up on had kept them apart. That had been difficult, like an itch inside Emma that she couldn’t quite reach.
Thomas was soclose, yet she couldn’t be alone with him. Somebody else was always there. Their wedding night tomorrow would be the first time they’d been alone since that carriage ride home from the Sinner.
Sometimes, the wedding felt like a dream. Like something surreal, and that she’d wake up at any moment and smile at how foolish she’d been.
But it was happening. Tomorrow, in fact. The food for the vast wedding feast was already being prepared, the cooks and kitchen maids working themselves into a frenzy. The Keep was full of flowers and garlands, every inch of the Great Hall and feasting room being decorated and prepared. Fresh rushes were ankle-deep everywhere, and there was a constant buzz of activity and excitement.
All Emma needed to do was think about her dress, a beautiful, lacy creation of lavender-colored silk that cost a fortune to make and flattered her form perfectly. Delphine had gathered a bouquet of greenery and various herbs for her to carry instead of traditional flowers. Emma preferred the savory scent of the herbs, anyway. They were bound up with a strip of sacking, which didn’t exactly go with the perfumed opulence of her dress but seemedrightsomehow.
All she had to do on the morning of her wedding was get up and put on that fabulous dress, along with the satin slippers Thomas had given her as a present. The shoes were lovely, of course, but she privately preferred the solid reliability of her tough old boots. She’d asked Delphine if she could wear them under her gown, but the answer was a disappointingno.
Well, she had to compromise somewhere.
And there was the wedding night to consider, of course. She didn’t even know where they would go. Thomas’s room, perhaps?
She swallowed hard, a pang of nerves shooting through her.
“I think I’m afraid,” she said, her voice quiet in the still chamber.
