Page 24 of A Laird and a Healer

Sometimes it was difficult to realize how much she had changed over the last few years, and this ordeal had again forced her to grow up quickly. For Caroline, who had practically raised Tara after their mother had died when Tara was very young, it elicited a feeling of immense pride.

“Tara is right. There must be a way. Perhaps we can give her plan a try, even if the chances of it succeeding are slim,” Nessa added in a gentle tone, perhaps trying to make amends for her earlier harsh reaction.

“I appreciate ye both, and while I’m willing tae try, I’m nae sure we hae the energy tae make another attempt taenight. It hae been a trying time for us and if we are tae get through this we need tae rest and make sure we hae our wits about us. Let us try tae eke out some sleep from what remains of the night,” she suggested.

Tara and Nessa made no objection to this. Caroline went to move off the bed and sleep on the floor to give the others more room. However, Tara and Nessa kept her held in bed. They pulled her under the covers and all squeezed together in the narrow bed. The younger sisters were not going to allow Caroline to suffer for them any more than she already had.

Although Caroline’s head and heart were reeling with wild emotions, she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. It was a sudden collapse into slumber, a much-needed state for her exhausted body which had been put through the wringer.

Unfortunately, there were not many hours of the night left, so when Caroline awoke, her eyes were heavy and bloodshot. The door burst open and light from outside spilled in. Three maids arrived with bustling energy. They carried two large lanterns, which pushed the darkness of the room away. Caroline rubbed her eyes as she roused herself, but it was not the lanterns that caught her attention. It was the other thing the maids were carrying, a white gown.

A wedding dress.

Her wedding dress.

“What is this? Am I tae be fitted for a dress?” Caroline asked.

She knew that a wedding would likely happen sooner rather than later. She didn’t get the sense that Ryan was the type of person to let things linger. But she barely had a chance to catch her breath.

“This is yer dress, ma’am. I am tae tell ye that the wedding is tae take place in an hour. The Laird will be waiting for ye.”

A look of horror came upon her face. Her features became drawn and the last semblance of color drained from her cheeks. Tara gripped Caroline’s wrist. Nessa reacted with shock. She leaped up from the bed and confronted the maids.

“How can ye say that? It’s nae fair!” she shouted, which alerted the guard outside. He came to the door and brandished his sword.

“Calm down, they’ll be none of that. If the Laird hae requested yer presence, then ye will be there. I suggest ye stop wasting time,” he barked.

Caroline looked towards him, filling the door, blocking it with his frame. There was no way out, no way to escape, and no time to plan anything. Ryan was smart enough to hasten the wedding, ensuring that the girls could not attempt another escape. Her future was rushing quickly towards her and there was nothing she could do, nothing apart from take the dress and don it with the help of her sisters.

The bridal procession took place with a guard escort. Caroline’s face was utterly dispirited, and her soul felt heavy. Nessa and Tara were allowed to attend, and they too looked dour. They looked more like they were going to a funeral rather than a wedding.

The white gown fit Caroline perfectly. The stitching was intricate, creating a subtle flowery pattern that stretched over the front of the dress. The design left her neck and collarbones exposed, and she was filled with the fear that the dress would slip off her shoulders at any moment. The dress reached down to her feet, the hem brushing the floor as she walked. It narrowed at her hips, and around her waist was a belt tied loosely, made up of the red and black tartan pattern of the clan. The knot pressed into the small of her back, and two pieces of fabric rested against her rump.

On any other occasion, she would have been blessed to wear something as fine as this, but she wanted to be anywhere else. There was a sick taste in the back of her throat that didn’t seem to go away, no matter how much she swallowed. She knew Ryan’s intentions, and surely, what followed the wedding would be his desire for an heir.

She shuddered at the thought because it seemed as though all that she wanted was being taken away from her. There was nothing she could do about this. She was about to be condemned, and she couldn’t even be certain that her sisters would be allowed to go free.

She doubted it, if Ryan’s eyes were still burning with hatred.

They entered the Great Hall, walking through the huge double doors. Caroline had always imagined her wedding being held in a gilded room that was filled with all manner of decorations. Because of the nature of this wedding, the assumed effort had not been taken. The servants had scattered petals along the aisle, and fine tapestries had been hung from the walls. These depicted romantic scenes from fables and history. Caroline gazed at the stitched women and wondered if any of them had been filled with such misgivings.

Ryan was standing near his high seat. He looked regal in his traditional garb. His kilt was made of the same tartan pattern that stretched around her waist. His shirt was laced across the chest, revealing dark shadows of hair. His sporran was silver-mounted in fur, and the clan emblem was proudly displayed on his chest, polished brightly. His boots rose to just beneath his knees, his stance was powerful.

A minister was beside him, holding the holy book. The servants of the Keep were in attendance, but this was no happy occasion. There was no music as Caroline walked down the aisle, no grand celebration at all. This was a mockery of a wedding, a grim taunt to romance. Frankly, it was an abomination and Caroline hated Ryan for putting her through this.

As she walked through the chamber and felt all eyes upon her, she searched for her sisters, and saw the anxious looks on their faces. They had been given new dresses to wear as well. Tara’s was pastel, blue, while Nessa’s was an earthy brown. Nessa had her hair pulled back with a thin tiara. Tara’s hair was tied in a tight bun.

Caroline couldn’t help but think how much Tara looked like their mother. Caroline and Nessa had both favored their father.

Tears glistened in her eyes. At least they would have a chance to find their happiness. Caroline would do all she could to see to that. But then her attention was drawn back to Laird Knox, whose presence dominated the room.

He didn’t even look at her until she was standing directly in front of him. His eyes were still cold and unflinching.

“Ye look lovely,” he said, although his tone was flat, and she didn’t believe the compliment was sincere. She hadn’t even been given flowers to hold.

The minister began the ceremony, and the words he spoke were traditional. He might have been the only person in the room who believed this moment was sacred. Caroline met Ryan’s gaze and vowed that she would not break it. She did not want to show him any sign of weakness. They exchanged their vows without any hint of romance or kindness.

Tara and Nessa clung to each other, watching on with concerned faces as they saw their sister being dragged to the grisly depths of sorrow from which there was no escape.