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The horses neighed as they came to a halt, Mary Lou readied herself and Fenella grumbled about the highs and lows of the trip so far.
"This is it, my dear," Ma said; smiling at her. As the carriage skidded to a stop, Lorna took in a deep breath and let it all out at once. This was it. They were here, finally.
They were greeted by Laird MacLean and his wife, a tall beautiful woman dressed in the most beautiful gown Lorna had ever seen. It cinched her waist and swept her to the ground. Ma must have approved.
They were both beaming down at Lorna, their soon-to-be daughter-in-law, but a shiver ran down her spine as she exited the carriage. She could tell something was wrong right away. Laird MacLean and his lovely wife exchanged meaningful glances. Their smiles were hesitant and askew, as if smiling hurt, as if they had blades in their cheeks.
Lorna took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She was a powerful woman. She would not panicandwould not believe the worst had happened, but after patting down her hair and smoothing over her dress, she took an introspective look around and realized what was wrong: her husband-to-be wasmissing. He hadn't come to greet her.
He should be here, she reasoned, taking her gloved hand in his, lifting it to his mouth, and lavishly kissing it. He should be standing across from her, hand to his back, saying, "Welcome, 'tis my hope that yer journey was a fruitful one." It should be him smiling down at her, and saying those words to her, not his father, who had awkwardly kissed her hand and asked too many questions, obviously and nervously trying to make up for his son's absence—to make up for her future husband's absence at her own arrival.
Lorna felt a seed of annoyance germinate in her chest. Was this really how Arran MacLean had chosen to start their union, which had yet to be formalized? Did he not realize she was coming today? How could he greet her with such blatant disregard?
Fenella, Ma, and Mary Lou exited the carriage one after the other. They made bows to the laird and his wife.
"Thank ye for having us," said Mother then.
Lady MacLean's smile reached her eyes. "The honor is ours." She swept a hand forward, gesturing ahead of them. "This way, please."
Mary Lou and a MacLean servant carried the family’s bags while Fenella gathered her dress and strutted beside Lorna. They walked on in silence but she knew her sister too well; Fenella was dying to say something ans Lorna could practically feel the words sizzling on her sister's lips, begging to be let out.
"What is it, Fenella?"
"Naething."
Lorna kept from rolling her eyes. "Say what it is you wish to say." If she knew anything about her own sister, it was that she always – always – had something to say about everything.
"Where is he?"
"Where is who?"
It was Fenella's turn to roll her eyes. "Ye know who! The faither o' yer future baby laird."
"Fenella! Hush," said Lorna.
"He should o' been out there; offering us a warm welcome along with the laird and his wife."
"Well, I cannae possibly be aware o' whatever the reason is why he's denied us his presence, Fenella, can I?"
"He should be here," Fenella mumbled.
"And I do nae argue otherwise, for Heaven's sake."
"Perhaps he's taken ill," suggested Fenella.
"Yes, perhaps so," Lorna agreed but she hoped there was no truth to the matter. She desired a smooth marriage with no hiccups, which meant no illnesses. However, it was far better to believe Arran MacLean had become ill than to ruminate on the possibility that he had deliberately ignored her arrival because he did not consider itworthy –because he desired this union even less than she feared it.
Lorna shookher head. Now is not the time for doubt, she reasoned. She was not going to assume the worst, especially since she had only just arrived.
"Or perhaps he's an ugly troll and he’s in the business o' exchanging faces with his brother or male relatives before he sees tae a guest," said Fenella.
Mary Lou coughed to cover a short laugh behind them.
"Thank ye, Fenella. Yer words o' assurance warm my heart," said Lorna and her sister winked.
Before long, and much without her noticing, Laird MacLean had led them into the castle.
Mary Lou walked in step with the other servant, whom Lady MacKenzie had called Lyle, as he carried their bags into the guest chambers, while Laird MacLean called upon another servant.
