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Chapter Twelve
Marriage. Ever since she had been a young girl, Nimue had given plenty of thought to marriage, as it was the one thing that was expected of her. Ever since she was born, her fate had been to find a husband.
And as far as husbands went, Chrisdean was a good choice, Nimue knew. He was the Laird of a powerful and wealthy clan, and though he wasn’t from a neighboring clan, he was still a better option than an Englishman, in her mind. Few would be as good a match for her as he was.
And he’s handsome. Verra handsome.
So handsome that every time Nimue looked at him, it was hard to tear her gaze away. Every time he was close to her, she could only think about his warmth, his scent, the way that his hands felt on her shoulders when he touched her. When he had kissed her like that, she had wanted to let him take her right there, to feel him like she craved so terribly. Every time she thought about him, heat engulfed her and her body felt submerged in a liquid fire that scorched every nerve ending it touched. There was no denying that she wanted him as a wife wants a husband—though she couldn’t claim to know whether the same was true for Chrisdean. There were days where she thought that he lusted after her, too, and others when he seemed so distant and cold that Nimue couldn’t even comprehend why he wanted to marry her.
But it’s done noo. And it’s for me faither.
Her poor father, who was in the clutches of the Earl of Stanford. She had never understood why he was so fond of such a man, who was more than happy to threaten him when things didn’t go his way. She couldn’t see how her father could think of the Earl as a good match for her when the man was so violent and vicious.
Despite everything, though, Nimue knew that if something were to happen to her father, a part of her would die with him. She couldn’t allow anyone to hurt him, especially not some pompous Englishman who wanted the whole world for himself.
Nimue had barely managed to close the door to her chambers behind her when they were flung open once more and a horde of maids entered the room. She hadn’t expected Chrisdean to rush the wedding so much, but she supposed it made sense; he wanted to seal the deal as soon as he could to ensure everyone’s safety. Nimue could hardly blame him for that, even if it meant that her wedding would be far from the ideal she had had in mind as a young girl.
“Me lady . . . is there somethin’ wrong?” one of the younger women, Ailsa, asked her in a hushed voice, pulling her aside from the rest as they milled about the room. “Ye dinna look verra happy, and . . . weel, it’s yer wedding day.”
“I didna ken it was me wedding day until ye all came in here,” Nimue said, but then she smiled at her, a kind, grateful smile. Ailsa always seemed to have everyone’s wellbeing in mind, especially Nimue’s; ever since she had come to the Highlands, Ailsa had been the one to tend to her every need. “But I’m fine, I assure ye. Please, dinna worry about me. There’s nothin’ to worry about.”
Ailsa didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t push Nimue to tell her more. Clever girl, Nimue thought, too clever for her position in the castle. Had she been a man, perhaps her life would have been different.
Had I been a man, perhaps me life would be different, too. I could go to war with George Wentworth meself. I could kill him with me own hands.
“We brought ye some dresses,” Ailsa said, pulling Nimue out of her thoughts. “I wish we could have done more, but there is so little time, me lady, and—”
“Ailsa,” Nimue said, taking the girl’s hands in her own. “I am sure that everythin’ will be perfect. And if it’s na perfect, it doesna matter. All that matters is that the wedding is happenin’.”
That answer seemed to placate Ailsa, who replied with a smile of her own. Then, she went to work along with the rest of the maids, the entire horde handling Nimue like a doll to be dressed up.
The maids quickly stripped her of her clothes, making Nimue stand in a tub as they splashed cold water at her. Nimue had decided that there was no way for anyone to get used to such a sensation. She shivered, her skin erupting in goose bumps, her arms wrapping around herself as she tried to conserve even the slightest bit of heat, but it was all in vain. By the time she got out of the tub and had wrapped the linen cloth around her, she was chilled to the bone.
Nimue was grateful for the quick work that the women did to dress her. Soon, she was wearing a powder blue dress, its silk layers draping gently, the bows and frills of the skirt adding to its intricacy. The sleeves were trimmed with white lace, and gilt details adorned the body.
Nimue had seen nothing like it before, and she couldn’t help but wonder where that dress had come from. She had a few such dresses at home—though not nearly as grand, but she was far from home, and when Chrisdean had taken her to the Highlands, he hadn’t given her the courtesy of allowing her to pack some essentials.
“The Laird ordered this for ye before ye even came,” Ailsa said, as though she could read her mind. “He kent that he would marry ye, and he wanted ye to have a bonnie dress.”
Nimue looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing the fabric down her stomach. There was no denying that the dress was beautiful. An elegant dress for a grand wedding.
A dress I could have worn to marry George Wentworth. I dinna need this kind of luxury. I dinna need such a grand dress.
“It’s verra bonnie,” she said, instead of voicing her thoughts. “I’ll make sure to tell the Laird that he made a good choice.”
When Nimue looked in the mirror again, she saw Ailsa’s smile, though it was sadder than she had expected it. There was worry there, she could tell, and something else, something akin to regret, and it made Nimue feel worse than she already felt.
“Ye’re too bonnie for that frown, Ailsa,” she told her, turning around to look at her properly.
“I’m na frownin’, me lady,” Ailsa said. “Dinna ye see? I’m smilin’.”
“Aye . . . I suppose I’m smilin’, too.”
There was an understanding between them that Nimue had never had with anyone else. She had grown to consider Ailsa a friend, and she had no doubts that now that she was going to spend the rest of her life in the Highlands, it would only bring them closer, no matter Ailsa’s position in the castle.
But the more Nimue smiled, the more optimistic she became about her soon-to-be husband and their relationship. Chrisdean had always kept his promises, she reminded herself, and he had never done anything to hurt her. If anything, he had been a good friend, too, someone with whom she had shared special moments and memories she hadn’t shared with anyone else.
Perhaps it willna be so bad. Perhaps I can grow to love him as me husband.
