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Pulling in a deep breath, he walked side-by-side with Saoirse, coming ever closer to the priest at the end of the aisle. And with each step he took, Noah vowed never to allow his bride the chance to steal his heart or sting him with love. Her scent was just a fleeting intoxication, and it would be the only one. He would make sure of it.
As they reached the front of the Kirk, he stared directly at the altar where the priest stood, refusing to let his eyes shift in any other direction. He’d come here to marry and that was precisely what he planned to do.
“We are gathered here today to join these two people and clans in holy matrimony,” the priest’s voice droned, filling the silence of the Kirk.
Noah stood like a statue, refusing to bring his eyes to meet Saoirse’s. Only when the priest asked that they face each other, did Noah turn, looking past her to a tapestry of angels on the opposite wall.
At the edge of his sight, however, he observed two things. First, he noticed Saoirse’s height. As he stared over the top of her veiled head, he noticed she came to about his chin.
The second thing he noticed was how delicate and tiny her hands were in his. How fragile they were as he held them. For a moment he felt the moisture bead in his palm and wondered if she was as nervous about this whole thing as he was. He wanted to wipe his hands on his kilt but knew that breaking their hands was a sign of rejection.
“Lift the veil,” the priest prompted with a hiss. Noah had missed the instruction the first time, or so it seemed.
Clearing his throat and holding his gaze to some lilies, stuffed in a vase to the side of the tapestry, he managed to draw her veil back without looking her in the face. A gasp of air whispered through her lips. As he heard the sound, his attention snapped to her, and his eyes met hers at last.
A grave mistake, on his part.
Immediately, his heart stopped. Forget the angels woven on the tapestry opposite; there was one standing right in front of him. Almond-shaped eyes carried the blue hue of summer twilight, sparkling with silvery flecks. He had barely held her gaze for more than a moment, and already her cheeks were flushing an enticing shade of pink. And her lips, lush and plump and dangerously tempting, reddened with the rush of blood.
Her round face tapered into a dainty chin; her innocent sort of beauty framed by some loose waves of golden hair that had deliberately been freed from the rest, which was piled on top of her head. The high style supported the drawn back veil, turning it in to a halo. Ethereal didn’t even begin to describe her.
Noah wanted to smack himself for breaking his resolve not to look at her. He believed that if he could keep his gaze on anything other than her, then the marriage could be a faint memory, one that was easily forgotten. Yet, it was too late for that now.Now,her image would forever be burned into his memory.
Pulling in a shallow breath, he tried to gulp the air, but found none. With his heart pounding fiercely in his chest, he kept his face stone cold. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing his reaction to her beauty.
Her eyes lingered on him as her lips curved into a faint smile, like she harbored a secret that he wanted to know. The mere sight of it caused his heart to beat faster. The thud resounded in his ears like thunder. If she thought she could cast a spell on him with that smile, she was sorely mistaken.
Rolling his shoulders back, he stood like a pillar and focused on the priest. Swallowing hard, he followed the prompts of the priest and turned slightly as Scott, his dearest friend and Man-at-Arms, dropped the silver gimmel ring into his outstretched hand. It was actually formed of two rings that interlocked; an emblem of betrothal where both parties should have worn one for the period of engagement, to be reunited on the wedding day and placed on the bride’s finger. As there had been no such tradition for their betrothal, he didn’t know why they needed the ring at all. The weight of it felt as if Scott had handed him a brick. It was heavier than he remembered.
Slowly, he removed her silky glove, drawing the material down her slender forearm like a stocking teased down a smooth calf. The similarity stirred him as he moved the silk past her wrist and away from her hand; the release cooling the unruly burn. Clearing his throat, he slipped the ring onto Saoirse’s bare finger.
“’Tis a bit big,” she mumbled. Her voice was like bells to Noah’s ears. Never in all his life had he heard such an enchanting sound.
Standing straighter, as if that could defend him from any of her charms, he fixed his eyes back on the lilies opposite. He didn’t care that his face was as stern and unforgiving as the stone walls of the Kirk.
“Aye, well ye need nae wear it after this,” he said flatly.
A part of his heart pinched as he caught Saoirse’s tempting lips turn down into a disappointed pout. “’Tis pretty, though.” Her words were barely a whisper.
A glint of something caught his attention, almost bringing his gaze back to her. For a moment, he wondered what jewels she wore that could cause the light to shine in such a way. Earrings, perhaps? But as he discreetly searched her face, he noticed she had no jewels upon her that could glint like that. Her earrings were but plain pearls, with no ability to shimmer in the sunlight that streaked through the stained-glass window.
No, the momentary glitter came from no trinket or gem, but from Saoirse’s eyes. Noah caught the shimmer again as it bounced off the tear that had just escaped the corner of her eye. More welled there, but she blinked upward to try and clear them before more could betray her hurt.
I’ve wounded her already. Maybe, this will be easier than I thought.Noah clenched his jaw and pursed his lips, solidifying his resolve.
* * *
Saoirse tried hard not to look at her husband, but her gaze kept drifting back, noting the jaw that was set so tight she thought it would snap. The rest of him was equally rigid, as if he didn’t even want to be there. No part of his expression or demeanor softened as he went through the motions of tying the scrap of her Clan’s tartan around his wrist and hand, and his Clan’s colors to hers.
She couldn’t help but feel the sting of rejection. Her heart lurched in her chest as she realized maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t pretty or enticing enough for him. After all, he was astonishingly handsome. Perhaps,toohandsome.
Remember what Maither said. It takes time.But her mind was already racing too far forward, envisioning her head nestling into the nook of his shoulder so easily. Yet, by the way he stood like a sentinel before her, unmoving, uncaring, she wondered if he’d ever let her near him.
“Dae ye have the blade?” the priest asked as Saoirse turned her attention back to the heavy-set priest with a long hook for a nose and paper-thin lips. The man looked as if all the life had been sucked out of him.
Meanwhile, the same man who had given Noah the ring pulled a blade from his sheath. Saoirse gulped. If Noah was really displeased with the bride he’d been given, what might he do with that sharp point?
“Only a nick,” the priest whispered to Saoirse. His smile didn’t go unnoticed, like he knew she feared the cutting of the palm. But it was the only way to ensure that she was forever bound to her husband. Two clans made one; a blood pact that could never be broken.
