Page 73 of In Bed with a Highland Brute

“It is good luck,” Callie insisted. “And these herbs are good for staying calm.”

“Then, why arenae they working fer ye?” Eloise teased as she pulled on her wedding gown.

Aila laughed loudly as Callie abruptly stopped and tossed the rest of the herb leaves into the air.

“One should be calm before their wedding day,” Callie said, approaching Eloise and placing a bouquet down on a table beside her that smelled richly of honeysuckle and roses. “Here, from the hot house. Honeysuckle is good for the soul.”

“It is also a flower of good luck,” Aila seconded, appearing behind Eloise in the mirror.

Eloise could not take the smile off her face. All the apprehensions she had been facing days ago about marrying Murdoch seemed to have paled into nonexistence now. Whenever she thought of him, she thought of their time at the loch, the way they had revealed they cared about each other, and how they had made love. The night before, they’d been forced to sleep separately, as per tradition, but she’d woken to find Murdoch had clearly been in the chamber, for that morning was a flower on the chamber table, with a small note beside it, bearing his initials.

His writing is improving!

“Look at that smile,” Callie said with a satisfied smile. “What a shame it is that Scarlett is nae here tae see yer wedding. She would have loved tae see ye now.”

“Laird Noah could nae be spared from his duties. I ken that.” Eloise found she could not lose her smile, even with this sadness. She would have loved for Scarlett to have come too, but with the wedding being brought forward, it was just impossible to arrange it in time.

“Ye look beautiful,” Aila said wistfully, arranging the last few curls of her hair.

“Thank ye, Aila.” Eloise could not step back from the mirror. She kept adjusting the richly sage green tartan gown, making it lay flat without any creases. There were white accents across the chest and on the hem of the skirt, complimenting the white hues of the roses in her bouquet. Beside her on the table was the white, rather thick veil she was to wear, made of the most intricate and detailed lace .

“Well, Avery will come fer ye soon.” Callie stepped toward her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll see ye at the church.”

“Aye, thank ye tae ye both.” Eloise turned to embrace the two of them. They had their final goodbyes and wishes of luck before they left. Once Eloise was alone, she turned back to face the mirror and adjusted her gown a final time. She prayed that Murdoch would like the gown. When she thought of him taking it off her at the end of the night, a thrill passed through her, and she giggled.

She lifted the bouquet from off the table when something caught her eye. A maid must have brought in a jug of mead for her to refresh herself. Finding she was parched, Eloise poured out a small cup and took three big gulps. She was so thirsty that it took this much for her to realize that it tasted strange.

“Ergh, it’s fermented,” she said, winching and returning the cup to the table. Turning to the mirror, she stared at the gown for a little longer as she waited for Avery. There was something strange about that reflection, for it began to blur. She blinked a number of times, trying to deter that feeling, yet it never went. If anything, each time she blinked, that blurriness grew worse.

When a heaviness took hold of her head, she backed up from the mirror. She needed somewhere to lie down. Perhaps if the blood returned to her head, all would be well again. She stumbled toward the bed, climbing onto the furs, with the bouquet dropping behind her on the floorboards. The scents of the herbs filled the air as many of the leaves broke off on the floor.

Something is wrong.

The heaviness didn’t dissipate. If anything, it just grew worse.

The door opened and Eloise tried to lift her head, hoping it would be Avery and she could call out to him for help. Was it the drink? Is that why it tasted so strange?

Yet the figure walking toward her was not Avery. It was cloaked completely in black, so much so that she couldn’t see any part of it. It moved over her, and Eloise parted her lips, trying to say anything, but the words died in her throat. Her tongue was as dry as sand, the only sound that escaped her a raspy cry.

“Goodbye, Eloise,” the hooded figure whispered to her and reached for Eloise’s arm. She was tossed across the bed, dragged toward the floor, as if she was nothing but firewood. Eloise rolled off the bed and onto the floor, noting the feminine tone and how she struggled to drag Eloise away.

Eloise tried to kick out, to fight, do anything to stop this from happening, but her body didn’t respond to any of her commands. Her weight was clearly a lot for the woman to handle though and she struggled with Eloise. In the tussle, her hood fell away, revealing her face.

Eloise’s eyes widened briefly as she took in that face.

“Ye!” she managed to hiss, the only sound escaping her lips.

Then that heaviness took over so strongly she could no longer keep it at bay. The world turned completely black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Murdoch stood fidgeting at the altar with Clyde at his side as best man.

“If I fidget this much, elbow me on the day.”

“I’m nae that bad. Ow,” Murdoch muttered as Clyde elbowed him harshly in the chest. “What was that fer?”

“Tae make ye stand still. Ye dinnae want yer bride seeing ye fidgeting as if ye are longing tae run away, dae ye?”