Getting married.
Was the moment truly upon her?
Her mind was gripped by a thick fog. She caught a glimpse of herself in a looking glass. Brynna was directing two maids through the process of dressing Cora. There were long stays. Carefully quilted, and when a lace was threaded through the eyelets down the back, the garment closed to make her waist tight and support her young breasts. Next came a padded hip roll and then a farthingale.
It took all three maids to lift the underskirt up into the air.
“Raise yer arms,” Brynna instructed her.
Once Cora complied, the skirt was lowered into place and secured with a tie at her waist. The front of it was embroidered with colorful silk thread and even beaded with pearls.
He’d marry her right now.
Faolan’s voice was bouncing around inside her head. He couldn’t possibly want to wed her, and yet, another glance in the polished looking glass showed her she was indeed being readied for her wedding.
The overdress was a fine shade of blue which went with her copper hair so well, no one would have suspected she hadn’t planned the gown for years. A first impression was important, considering her marriage had always been about the alliance first.
Well, that part hadn’t changed.
No, just the name of the groom.
Brynna finished everything up with little gold hairpins that glistened as Cora turned her head, and the light from the candles reflected off them.
“Ye are truly radiant, Mistress Cora,” Brynna sighed blissfully.
“I’ve never worn such finery in me life,” Cora admitted. She wanted to rub the silk between her fingers but decided it appeared so fragile, she didn’t dare risk damaging it.
“Yer groom will no’ be disappointed.”
Whether or not Brynna was correct was going to be tested very quickly. Cora only had another moment to ponder her reflection before there was a rap on the chamber door. Noreen came in a second later, no less than half a dozen maids at her back. They all had their faces set with stern expressions. Finding Cora dressed made them pause, two of them stumbling when the ones in front of them stopped.
“Thought ye’d have to dress me, Lady McKay?” Cora asked bluntly.
Noreen’s eyes widened at the audacity of the question. But her lips pursed. “Ye truly are fully grown, are ye no’ Cora? The woman in ye understands that while ye were born with position, to keep it, ye can nae be too picky about who yer bridegroom is.”
Noreen laughed softly. The women at her back joining her. It wasn’t a good-natured sound. No, it was husky and full of luscious knowledge.
“Faolan will be far better than most brides get!” one of the older women muttered suggestively.
“No doubt ye won’t have to worry about spending too much effort to stroke up his member,” another added with a wink.
“A man like him will put ye on yer back the moment he has the blessing of the Church!”
For all that Cora had considered her brothers Retainer’s to be rough in their speech, she discovered her face flushing as the comments continued to come.
“He’ll ride ye more than once a night to be sure.”
“The winter will be a warm one…with him in yer bed!”
“Best make sure the bed ropes are newly strung, else ye end on the floor in the dark hours of the night!”
Noreen finally raised her hand. Her women fell silent instantly. But there were still smirks being sent toward Cora, confirming that none of them felt any shame.
“Do ye have any…questions, Cora? Before I take ye down to yer groom?” Noreen asked pointedly.
Cora felt like her cheeks were on fire, but at least it burned away the fog which had been crippling her mind.
“Why would ye ask me if I have questions since ye made a point of forcing this wedding on me because ye seem to believe Faolan has already had me?”
Noreen wasn’t shamed by the question. She merely fluttered her eyelashes. “Ye are a woman and yet, still so naïve, Cora. Weddings for women such as us are about dowries and position. How could ye think I’d be foolish enough to allow ye to leave McKay land now that ye are here and me husband has an unwed brother?”
Cora felt her temper simmer. Noreen let out a little amused sound.
“Do nae be so cross with me, Cora.” Noreen ventured closer and took her hand. “Faolan or Cormac Grant or another son of the highlands…what does it matter except that ye are wed to a man with a good position? The McKay are a fine clan to be joined with, and it is more than time ye married. Stop acting like such a child. Ye’re a woman fully grown. Ye need only mind me as yer mistress. Yer lot might be far worse if Cormac breaks the arrangement with ye and yer brother finds ye a third or fourth son to wed. Yer reputation has spread far and wide as being unruly. Do ye truly think ye will catch someone better after riding rough with Retainers across the moors?”
Noreen had a point.
Cora wasn’t blind to it. Something new stirred inside her. A sense of anticipation that was really quite pleasant.
Almost exciting, really.
Noreen offered her one last smile before she was guiding her toward the door.
Cora went willingly.
After the first step, she found the second one easier and the third even more so. Confidence was building inside her. Perhaps Fate had brought her to Faolan. Oh, yes, he was stubborn when it came to doing what he thought was best. Her cheeks remained hot as the memory of him tossing her over his shoulder surfaced.
But he’d called her tempting.
Was she?
It was an honest question, for even if she was pitifully ugly, no one on Mackenzie land would have dared to tell her so. Suddenly the dress was something she enjoyed wearing. The heat warming her cheeks was due to anticipation, and her breath caught as she made it to the bottom of the tower.
It was her wedding day.
Or night as things were.
The passageway was illuminated by candles. Such was an extravagance, but it drove home how much the McKay wanted to secure her. They’d rather have a midnight wedding instead of risking waiting until daylight and the possibility that her brother’s men might arrive. By all rights, she should have been terrified by the lack of contracts.
But she had contracts that were sealed and witnessed with Cormac Grant, and those parchments wouldn’t protect her from a groom who treated her roughly.
Faolan wouldn’t hurt her.
That one certainty kept Cora moving. Perhaps it was foolish to trust so blindly, for she hardly knew the man.
She knew less of Cormac Grant, though. To her betrothed, she was not even worth the time to stand in a kitchen doorway and argue over something he thought best for her own good. The ride over Faolan’s shoulder might have wounded her pride, but she recognized that he cared about her well-being, or he simply wouldn’t have bothered.
And Malcolm had been intent on…something. She decided it was best not to decide just what the McKay laird had planned to do in the dark in her chamber. Instead, Cora set her sights on the moment she was in, drawing in a deep breath as she paused outside the entrance of the great hall. The moment she’d heard so much about throughout her life was about to take place. She let out the breath she was holding before making sure her chin was level.
And then she went forward to greet her groom.
*
Faolan had never thought to wed.
Well, at least not to marry in the great hall of the McKay. But he was here. The priest was standing at the base of the high ground while Malcolm sat in his chair with a disgruntled look on his face.