Page 63 of Highland Fire

Moira winced as Una laced up her bodice. There had been little they could do to improve the look of her poor ragged clothes. A good brushing and a few ribbons were not really enough to make her a beautiful bride, but they did help a little. Moira wished they had been allowed more time for preparation. Although she would enter this marriage with little hope that it could last, she would have liked to look better than she did.

“Ye dinnae look much like a bride,” Una muttered as she stood back to look Moira over.

“’Tis not so surprising. My clothes are poor and have seen a great deal of wear. Ye didnae have a chance to bring any clothes, and neither did I. Ye have been here a long time, so ye have had a chance to make or obtain clothes.” Moira inwardly sighed with a touch of envy as she surveyed Una’s lovely blue gown, prettily embroidered at the neck, hem, and sleeves. “I dinnae even have the time to alter anything to fit me.”

“I ken it. ’Tisnae just your clothes, Cousin. Ye dinnae appear verra happy. Ye are the mon’s lover. I rather thought ye loved him.”

“Oh, aye, I do, but if ye tell him so, I shall make ye sorely regret it. Nay, I am not as happy as ye are, but it would take too long to explain it all. There are—weel—difficulties. I am not sure they can be solved, but we arenae going to be given any time to find that out, either. To be honest, Una, I am marrying Tavig so that Mungan will leave me be and your father cannae touch me again. All the rest can be sorted out later.”

“Is it because of your special gift or his?”

It took Moira a full minute to fully comprehend what Una had said, then she gaped. “You ken about my gift?”

“Of course. Ye have lived with me for ten years. How could I miss it? Ye used it from time to time, swearing the ones ye helped to secrecy, but ’tis verra hard to keep such a big secret from everybody.” She lightly patted the stunned Moira on the head. “Both Nicol and I ken about at least a few of the times ye slipped up to our bedsides and used your gift to ease our hurts, the ones our father so often inflicted.”

“Oh, and I thought I was being so clever.”

“Ye could only keep it a complete secret if ye didnae help anyone. Tavig has the sight, ’tis no secret around here, so why should your healing gift trouble him?”

“It doesnae trouble him because he doesnae ken anything about it. I havenae told him and I dinnae ken whether I ever will. So ye will keep that knowledge to yourself as weel.”

“Ye are asking me to keep a lot of secrets.”

“Aye—two. I think ye can hold fast to that much. Weel, we had better go down to the great hall.” She made one last check on the ribbons in her hair before starting out of the room.

“Moira, what do ye think my father will do when he discovers we are both married?” Una asked as she fell into step beside her cousin.

“Rant, bellow, make threats. Ye need not fear it this time, Una. I believe Mungan Coll is verra capable of dealing with Sir Bearnard. After we say our vows before the priest neither of us needs to worry about Sir Bearnard Robertson again. We will be free of the bastard.”

“I think I will be slow to really believe that.”

“Aye, I suspect I will continue to look o’er my shoulder for a long time. The kind of fear he breeds in a person is a verra hard one to break free of.”

They entered the great hall, and Moira immediately felt uncomfortable. Mungan looked handsomely imposing in his black jupon. Una, who hurried to his side, looking delicate and tiny next to him. Tavig also looked very handsome. Moira wondered where he had gotten a full change of clothes. As he took her hand, she realized the clean, un-patched clothes the other three wore only served to make her attire look even more pathetic. It was not the wedding she had planned in her dreams.

“Dinnae look so woeful, lass,” Tavig said, raising her hand to his lips and kissing her palm. “Ye will have Mungan’s people thinking I force ye to wed me. ’Twould sorely bruise my vanity to have the lads thinking that.”

Moira smiled faintly then impulsively stood on her tiptoes, kissing him on the cheek. “There, now they shall think I am properly besotted with you. Your vanity should be safe from harm now.”

“How kind of you.” He glanced toward Mungan and the priest, who were deep in converration. “Ye did look sad, Moira. ’Tisnae verra encouraging.”

“The sadness ye saw had little to do with you. I but regretted the swiftness of the wedding. Every lass, even one trapped in the poor life I was, dreams of the day she will be married. The few times I allowed myself to dream, I ne’er imagined standing next to my husband dressed in little more than rags.”

“Ah, I see. Ye look bonnie, dearling.” He lightly touched her hair. “Mayhap I shouldnae have changed into a finer set of clothes, but since I had left a few things here, I saw no harm in it.”

“Nay, there is no harm in it. Ye jested about your vanity, but I am the one who suffers from it. All the rest of ye look so fine, I but felt sorry for myself.”

He put his arm around her shoulders, tugged her closer and kissed her cheek. “I think ye look verra fine.”

“Careful, rogue, ye are disordering my ribbons.”

“I have plans to disorder a great deal more than that once we say our vows.”

Moira felt the faint sting of a blush, but had to fight a smile. “Do ye think we can go to our chambers first?”

“Ah, ye fear to shock the priest.”

“That is a consideration.”