Page 16 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold

CHAPTER SIX

"Ye look beautiful, me lady. A true Highland bride." Sheena bustled around her, arranging the simple veil and placing a circlet of Highland flowers in her hair.

The morning of her wedding dawned gray and drizzly, as if the Highland sky itself disapproved of the hasty proceedings. Morag stood before the polished metal mirror in her chamber, staring at her reflection in the ivory silk gown that had belonged to Colin's mother. The dress fit well enough after yesterday's alterations, but she felt like she was wearing a costume for a play she didn't understand.

Perhaps this won't be so terrible after Colin and I might eventually find happiness together.

"Thank ye fer all yer help. I think... I think today might be a new beginning." Sheena gave a small curtesy, and Morag saw her eyes glisten.

The walk to the small stone chapel felt surreal, her feet moving real anticipation while her mind ran through the memory of last night's gentle conversation in the kitchen. It seemed like something from a dream—Colin's rare smile, his apology, the way he'd looked at her as if he were truly seeing her for the first time.

I ken there’s a good heart in there.

She remembered how carefully he'd tended her rope burns, how he'd shared stories of his childhood.

Perhaps all that coldness is just protection. Perhaps underneath it all, he's lonely too, and we can comfort each other.

Her feet moved with purpose now, her mind painting pictures of the future.

Maybe we'll have more evenings like last night, talking and sharing stories. Maybe he'll teach me about his clan, and I'll help him see that ruling with kindness daesnae make him weak. Maybe we'll even come tae love each other.

The thought made her heart flutter with hope. Perhaps beneath the Iron Laird's cold exterior lay a man capable of warmth and understanding. Perhaps the Colin who'd shared cheese and childhood stories with her was the real one, and all the rest was just armor he wore to protect himself and his people.

Maybe this marriage daesnae have tae be the prison sentence I feared. Maybe it can be something beautiful.

That hope shattered the moment she saw him outside the chapel.

Colin stood near the entrance in his finest Highland dress. It was a sight that should have taken her breath away with his commanding presence and the way the formal attire emphasized his broad shoulders. Instead, what stopped her cold was the scene unfolding before her.

"Move those patrols to the northern border immediately," he was barking at a group of armed men. "I want double watches on all the approaches, and if ye see so much as a Fraser shadow, I want tae ken about it."

"Aye, me laird," one of the soldiers replied.

"Get going. Now," Colin snapped.

Morag stood frozen on the chapel steps, watching her groom dispatch soldiers on what was supposed to be their wedding day.

What kind of man conducts military business moments before his own wedding?

A cold knot formed in her stomach.

When Colin finally turned toward the chapel, his expression was already shuttered, every trace of last night's gentleness erased. He nodded curtly to her as if she were merely another item on his endless list of duties to be completed.

This is how it will be. Last night was an aberration. This coldness is who he truly is.

The skirl of bagpipes echoed across the castle courtyard, with ancient Highland melody that was both haunting and beautiful. The piper, dressed in ceremonial outfit, played a traditional air that spoke of love and new beginnings.

The small stone chapel was packed with Armstrong clan members, their plaids creating a sea of deep greens and blues in the dim candlelight. Father Ferguson stood before the simple altar, his weathered hands holding the ancient Highland marriage stones—two smooth river rocks that had witnessed countless unions over the centuries.

"We gather today tae bind two souls and two clans in the sight of God and the ancestors," the priest began, his voice carrying the weight of tradition. Before continuing, he lifted his hands and spoke in the ancient tongue:

"Thig crioch air an t-saoghal ach mairidh gaol is ceòl." The world may come to an end, but love and music will endure.

A murmur of approval rose from the congregation at the old blessing.

"Colin Armstrong and Morag MacDuff, step forward and place yer hands upon the stones of binding."

Morag felt Colin's presence beside her as they approached the altar, but when she glanced at him, his jaw was set, his eyes focused straight ahead as if this were a military drill rather than their wedding.