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"Oh, Arran, will ye now?" said Ma; gushing as she squeezed his hand back. "I'm so relieved tae hear it, son, so relieved."
"Of course, Ma. I have my duties tae uphold, after all." Duties of revenge, he thought, Duties to liberate his clan from subjugation.
"Indeed," Sir Ian offered as he lifted his glass and raised another toast. "Tae the future laid!" A delicate pause took precedence, and then: "And his bride!"
"Tae the future laird and his bride!" The people in the hall chorused after him.
Arran smiled back at his mother. Douglas was grinning as well, but not for the same reason as the others seated around the table.
His younger brother was not only toasting to his future laird. He was toasting to the death of the lass whose father had murdered their brother on a battlefield. He was toasting to the death of Arran's future wife.
He was toasting to vengeance.
Arran raised his own glass and cheered. Their plan had been set in motion, and there was no going back now.
He would marry the MacKenzie lass.
And he would kill her.
And thus, he would honor Bruce’s memory.
CHAPTERTWO
Mother clapped her hands together as if fending off an enemy attack. "Nae, nae, certainly nae that!" she protested.
Lorna sighed and lifted her arms so that Mary Lou, her lady's maid, could shrug the gown off of her body. It was the fifth gown she had tried on, good heavens, and the fifth gown of twenty her mother had laid out.
She wanted to roll her eyes but resisted the urge. Patience had never been her strongest virtue but she took in deep breaths and calmed herself. Then, when she thought Ma was no longer looking, she gestured to Mary Lou to sneak her bow and arrows into her travel trunk, as they had planned.
However, Ma, wise old Ma, turned around at the last moment. Her jaw almost fell to the ground in shock. "Certainly nae that, either! Heaven forbid!"
Lorna sighed again. She knew her mother would never agree to letting her take her plaything but she had wanted to try anyway.
She was never one to give up without a fight.
"Alright," Lorna conceded; finally allowing herself to roll the eyes that had been begging to be rolled all morning. She motioned to Mary Lou to take her favorite weapon out of the box.
Mary Lou's lips were pressed together, as if to keep from smiling. "Her ladyship would rather walk on hot coals than let ye take them with ye," she had said to Lorna just moments before Ma had swirled through the door and joined them in their packing for their journey to the MacLean's keep, which was to be her new home. Of course, Mary was correct. The only thing Ma despised more than a woman wielding a bow and arrow, or any weapon for that matter, was a drunk woman.
Fenella, Lorna's sister, was curled elegantly atop a heap of pillows across from her, droning on about something Lorna had since forgotten. She'd started by telling the Duke of Emberton about her last trip through the Highlands. She had previously mentioned scarfed bandits and a miserable carriage ride. Or wasit a thunderstorm?
Lorna had given up listening by the time she had changed out of her third gown. She was too preoccupied with being exhausted and plotting a way to steal her bow and arrow without Ma's knowledge.
Fenella huffed and clapped her hands together as if to draw her sister’s attention. "Yer nae listening to me, are ye?"
"Of course, I am," Lorna lied. Then, she turned to Mary Lou, who had busied herself with packing her bags for their travel. "All the dresses except that violet," she said to her maid.
That seemed to pique Ma's curiosity. She raised her brows in perplexity. "Why ever not? The violet is lovely," Lady MacKenzie stated.
Lorna cast a quick glance at Mary Lou, who was smoothing the crumpled lines of a wool coat while trying hard not to smile. She pushed the bag further onto Lorna's bed to prevent it from falling over.
Shehad always secretly despised the violet dress with its too wide arms and frilly hems, but she wore it because Pa liked it, and Pa liked whatever Ma liked, despite the fact that she hadn't seen much of him in recent years.
Lorna wanted to groan in displeasure. Instead, she motioned to Mary, instructing her to include the violet dress as well. Ma, Fenella, and her father would accompany her on the journey, both traveling through the Highlands with her and staying in her new home after the wedding. She knew she'd be grateful for their company, for holding her hands and encouraging her when the time came. As a good mother, Ma almost always knew how to make her feel less overwhelmed and less alone. The least Lorna could do was bringthe violet dress Ma so liked, however reluctantly.
All of Lorna's life seemed to boil down to this moment: her becoming the bride of Arran MacLean, future laird of their both clans. Her whole life was about to change.
As if sensing the shift in her mood, Ma placed a light touch on her shoulder. "What's wrong, my love?"
