“Arms up, please,”one of the maids requested, measuring across Gabriella’s shoulders.
“The clan expectsthe Laird’s weddin’ to reaffirm our traditions,” Andrea continued. “Each element of the ceremony has meanin’. The handfastin’ with the clan tartan represents how yer lives become interwoven. The blessin’ at the stones connects yer union to our ancestors.”
“And the beddin’ceremony ensures that ye and Hector—” Erica said with a mischievous grin.
“There will be nay beddin’ceremony,” Andrea cut in firmly. “That tradition was set aside generations ago.”
Gabriella’s momentary panic subsided,though she still felt hot with embarrassment. Her gaze landed on the massive bed that dominated the chamber—a bed she would soon be expected to share, at least in appearance, with the Laird.
“Every McCulloch bridesince the time of Robert the Bruce has worn this,” Andrea said, opening a small wooden box. Inside laya delicate silver brooch, Celtic knotwork surrounding a polished blue stone. “It will fasten yer tartan sash during the ceremony.”
Gabriella staredat the ancient piece of jewelry, suddenly overcome by the history it represented. Generations of McCulloch brides, all of them entering their marriages, believing in forever. Unlike her.
“I cannae—”she began, then faltered at Andrea’s expectant expression. “I mean, I’m honored.”
“It’s tradition.”Andrea closed the box. “And ye are to be a McCulloch.”
In name only.
But as preparationscontinued around Gabriella, the line between pretense and reality seemed to blur with each passing moment.
Me bride.
The words senta tremor through her that she couldn’t quite name. Not quite fear, not quite anticipation, but something in between.
“Forgive us, dear,”Andrea said, noticing her pallor. “We’re simply overjoyed. Hector has been alone for far too long.”
“Aye,”Erica agreed with a grin. “Though none of us expected him to choose so suddenly. Or so well,” she added with a warm smile.
These women were welcomingher with genuine joy, believing she would truly become one of them. The deception felt suddenly cruel, a betrayal of their sincere affection.
Yet,as she thought of Hector, she wondered if perhaps she was the one being deceived. Not about the arrangement itself, but about the nature of what she’d agreed to.
“Now,”Andrea said, once the maids had completed their measurements and begun gathering their tools, “we must discuss the wedding dance.”
Gabriella,who had been lost in her troubled thoughts, looked up sharply. “The dance Erica mentioned last night?”
“Aye.”Andrea nodded. “It’s one of our most important traditions. After the ceremony at the stones and the feast, the bride and groom open the celebrations with the Dance of Promise.”
“The entire clan watches,”Erica supplied, her eyes bright with excitement. “Everyone forms a circle around the couple, and nay sound is made until the dance is over.”
Gabriella’s stomachtightened with anxiety. “I dinnae ken how to dance,” she reminded them, her voice small.
“Most brides dinnae,”Andrea reassured her. “Which is why we will begin lessons immediately.” She turned to the maids. “That will be all for now. Return after the midday meal with the fabric samples.”
The maids curtseyed and departed,leaving only Erica and Andrea with Gabriella.
“The Dance of Promisedates back to the days when the McCullochs first settled these lands,” Andrea explained, rising from her chair with surprising grace for a woman her age. “It’s said that our ancestress, Ailsa McCulloch, created it as a way to show her devotion to her husband when words failed.”
“It’s more than just steps,”Erica continued. “It tells the story of meetin’, courtship, and joinin’ as one.”
Gabriella’s apprehension grew.This sounded far more complex than simply moving to music.
“Come,”Andrea said, moving to the center of the room where the maids had cleared a space. “Stand here, and I will show ye the bride’s part. Erica will stand in for Hector.”
For the next hour,Andrea guided Gabriella through the intricate patterns of the dance. The movements themselves weren’t overly complicated—a series of approaches and retreats, turns and bows—but each carried symbolic weight that Andrea explained in detail.
“This turn here”—shedemonstrated, extending her arm as she moved in a slow circle—“represents the moment of acceptance. And then when the groom approaches…” She nodded to Erica, who stepped forward with an exaggerated masculine swagger, making Gabriella smile despite her nervousness. “…you allow him to take yer hand, symbolizing trust.”
