Part 22 (1/2)
There was no time to think, and certainly no time to dwell on the enormity of what she would do before the night was over. Servants rushed in and out of the chambers with jugs of hot water that Fiona scented delicately for her daughter's bath. Gwen and Maggie chattered as they took out seams and sewed new ones on the dress Serena would wear to be married.
”It's romantic,” Gwen said as she scanned her st.i.tches with a critical eye.
”It's madness.” Maggie glanced over, knowing Serena was soaking behind the screen. ”Rena must have woven strong magic to make Brigham hurry so. He must not be so stuffy as I once thought.”
”Imagine.” Gwen s.h.i.+fted the ivory satin delicately. ”Going to the Prince.
We never had a chance to unpack from the journey before we're changing Mother's ball gown into Serena's wedding gown.”
Maggie sat back, touching a hand to the mound of her belly. The baby she carried always became more active at night. The unpacking would have to wait, she thought, just as she and Coll would have to wait to have a proper reunion. She stifled a giggle as she remembered how he had roared when they had been interrupted just as they had started to become reacquainted. She looked over as Serena emerged, wrapped in towels, her skin and hair dripping. ”The dress will be beautiful,” Maggie told her, blinking back tears at the thought of the wedding. ”And so will you.”
”By the fire,” Fiona ordered, armed with a brush. Knowing the trembles had nothing to do with a chill, Fiona began to soothe her daughter as she dried her hair. ”A woman's wedding is one of her most precious memories. Years from now, when you look back, what seems now like a dream will be very clear.”
”Should I be so afraid?”
Fiona reached over Serena's shoulder to take her hand. ”I almost think the more you love, the sharper the fear.”
Serena gave a weak laugh. ”Then I must love him more man I knew.”
”I could not wish a better man for you, Rena. When the fighting is done, you will have a good life together.”
”In England,” Serena managed.
Fiona began to stroke with the brush as she had so many times before.
Her hands were gentle as she thought of this small pleasure that would soon be denied her.
”When I married your father, I left my family and my home. I had grown up with the sound of the sea, the smell of it. As a girl I would climb the cliffs and watch the waves break on the rocks below. The forest of Glenroe was foreign to me, and frightening. I wasn't sure I could bear being so far away from everything I had known and loved.”
”How did you?”
”By loving your father more.”
They left her hair loose so that it streamed like candlelight down her back. The bodice of the gown was snug, skimming her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, leaving them to rise softly above as a resting place for a rope of pearls. The sleeves belled out, sheening down to her wrists. There was a glimmer of pearls on the skirt where it flared over hoops and petticoats. At the waist was a sash gathered up with a clutch of the palest pink wild roses. With her heart hammering, Serena stepped into the abbey.
It was a place of legends, of joy and despair, and of miracles. There she would be wed.
He was waiting for her. In the wavering light of lamps and candles, she walked to him. She had always thought he was at his most elegant in black, but she had never seen him look more handsome. Silver b.u.t.tons glinted, adding richness to the severe cut of his coat. For the first time since she had known him, he wore a wig. The soft white added romance to his face, contrasting royally with the dark gray of his eyes.
She didn't see the Prince, or the pews filled with the lords and ladies who had come to watch the ceremony. She only saw Brigham.
When her hand touched his, it stopped trembling. Together, they faced the priest and pledged.
The clock struck midnight.
The Prince had decided that a wedding, however hurried, deserved a celebration. Within minutes after becoming Lady Ashburn, Serena found herself being led to the picture gallery of the palace, where Charles had given his first grand ball on the night he had taken the city.
The long, wide room was already filled with music. Serena was kissed and congratulated by strangers, envied by the ladies, studied by the men.
Her head was reeling by the time she was handed her first gla.s.s of champagne. She sipped and felt the bubbles burst on her tongue.
Exercising his privilege, Charles claimed her for a dance. ”You make a lovely bride, Lady Ashburn.” Lady Ashburn. ”Thank you, Your Highness. How can I thank you for making this possible?”
”Your husband is of great value to me, my lady, as a soldier and as a friend.” Her husband.
”You have his loyalty, sir, and mine, both as a Langston and as a MacGregor.”
Brigham claimed her when the dance had ended, fending off complaints by others who would have partnered the new bride.
”You are enjoying yourself, my love?”
”Aye.” Ridiculous to be shy, she thought, but she felt herself color as she smiled at him. He looked different in the wig, with the flash of jewels, she thought. Not at all like a man who would toss her over his shoulder and threaten to dump her in a loch. He looked as glamorous as the Prince himself. And nearly as much a stranger. ”It's a beautiful room.”
”You see the portraits?” he asked, leading her gently by the elbow for a closer look. ”There are eighty-nine, Scottish monarchs all. I'm told they were commissioned by Charles II, though he never once entered Holyrood House, in fact never returned to Scotland after the Restoration.”
She knew her history, she thought irritably, but tried to show an interest.
”Aye. This is Robert the Bruce, a fierce soldier and well-loved king.”
”I should have known a woman as well-read as you would know her history and her politics.” He leaned close to her ear. ”What do you know about military strategy?”
”Military strategy?”
”Ah, so there is something yet I might teach you.” Before she could answer, he pulled her roughly through a doorway. She had only time for a m.u.f.fled squeal before he swept her into his arms and began to race along a corridor.
”What are you doing? You've gone mad again.”
”I'm escaping.” As the music faded behind them, he slowed his pace.
”And I went mad from the moment you walked into the abbey. Let them dance and drink. I'm taking my wife to bed.”
He mounted a staircase, not even bothering to nod at a servant who, wide-eyed, bowed himself out of the way. With Serena still in his arms, he kicked the door to his chamber open, then kicked it closed again behind them. Without ceremony, he dropped Serena on the bed.
She tried to look indignant. ”Is that a way to treat your new bride, my lord?”
”I haven't even begun.” Turning he shot the bolt on the door.
”I might have wanted another dance or two,” she said, smoothing her palm over the bed.
”Oh, I intend to dance with you, be sure of it. From now till dawn and after.”
She gave him a cheeky grin. ”There's dancing, Sa.s.senach, and there's dancing.”
”Aye,” he said, mocking her. ”It's not the minuet I have in mind.”