Page 18 of Highlander’s Sweet Poison

Butterflies erupted in her stomach again. Lord, but last night had been wonderful and confusing. Graeme hadn’t attempted to take his pleasure or sate himself, but he’d given her everything, and she had been defenseless against it.

Memories of her begging at the end rose in her memory, and she swallowed hard. How would she ever face him now?

Maybe he’d already ridden ahead and left one of his guards to escort her back. That, at least, would be less humiliating.

Rising, she dressed quickly and walked into the kitchen. She was about to boil some eggs when there was an insistent knocking at her door.

That couldn’t be Graeme. He would just let himself right in.

Frowning, she slowly cracked the door only to throw it wide open when she saw who it was. “I know I said I wanted to spend some time with ye, but ‘tis awfully early,” she said with a grin as she hugged Gemma. “I was just about to start breakfast.”

“Ye havenae eaten yet? I suppose if we hurry, ye can eat while we do yer hair.” She thrust a bundle of fabric into Jillian’s hands and hustled through the door.

“Do my hair? I dinnae think the council is going to change their minds if I braid my hair down the left side rather than the right,” Jillian said lightly as she examined what Gemma had thrown at her. “Is this a dress?”

“Aye. Make yer eggs, and I will explain. If ye have enough for two, I wouldnae say no. Sometimes all I wish to do is eat!”

Jillian boiled the eggs, and when she sat down to eat, Gemma immediately started brushing her hair. “I am so excited! There is to be a wedding! I love weddings!”

“Must be the pregnancy because I heard that ye officiated yer own wedding,” Jillian teased. Though she hadn’t been able to see it herself, it was still the talk of the village. “I hadnae heard that anyone was to be married today.”

“‘Tis a very unexpected wedding, but I think I will let it be a surprise,” Gemma said mischievously. Jillian’s hair dropped on her neck long enough for Gemma to take a bit of her egg before she gathered it back up in her hands again.

Ignoring the tugging, Jillian thought through the courtship of the loch, and a smile curved over her face. It was Elizabeth and Oliver. It had to be! They had finally stopped dancing around each other and realized that they were meant to be, and Elizabeth was marrying him in a hurry so Jillian could attend.

Not wanting to ruin Gemma’s surprise, Jillian kept the revelation to herself. “Why are ye doing my hair for someone else’s wedding?” she asked as she finished her eggs. “Ye of all people should know that the couple will be lucky if residents show up clean.”

“Hush, now. I am leaving tomorrow, and I want to have some fun before I go. I did my hair, and I did Elizabeth’s hair, and now I will do yours,” she said.

“Ye did Elizabeth’s hair before mine? Was she awake?” Elizabeth did not rise well with the sun. She was rather alarming first thing in the morning.

“Vera funny. Face forward. I have a particular style in mind, and I dinnae want to ruin it.”

Jillian tried to keep quiet, but she was full of questions. “And the dress?”

“Shush!”

After an hour of laughter and stomping around on Gemma’s part, Jillian was ready to go. Knowing that she was going to spend more time with her two best friends filled her with joy, and she all but skipped down to the church. There was only a small group that had gathered outside the door. No chairs had been set or flowers adorning the ground.

Jillian frowned. The head of their guard was the groom. She would think that the whole of the loch would have turned out for it.

Villagers looked over their shoulders, muttered amongst themselves, and smiled as they parted. She was stopped only for a moment and realized that it was Elizabeth who had snagged her arm. Standing next to her parents, she reached over and gave her a big hug. “What are ye doing here?” Jillian tried to whisper. “Is Oliver not here yet?”

Before Elizabeth could answer, Gemma dragged her away, and they stopped in front of the door.

And right in front of Graeme.

Bewildered, she stared at him. “Where is Oliver?”

He scowled. “Ye wish to marry Oliver?”

“What? No. Elizabeth?”

“Ye wish to marry Elizabeth?”

“Will ye stop jesting me! We need to move back to the crowd! We are standing in their....” Realization dawned on her as she looked up at the priest. “...spot.”

Father Thomas yawned. The crotchety old father looked like a feather could knock him over, but he opened the Bible anyway and began. “Highlanders of Loch Moran, we are here today to celebrate the union of these two MacSeavers—”