Chapter 18
Light streamed in through the window as Rosalyn groaned and flipped over. She and Ursula had stayed up gossiping like sisters well past the time the fire had dimmed to embers in her chamber.
While her thoughts swam through the early morning haze between her ears, her heart skipped a beat. Eyes blinking rapidly, she sat bolt upright.
“‘Tis my wedding day!” she shouted as if to wake herself up from the fog.
Glancing around the vast guest chamber, Rosalyn felt her clarity return, reminding her that the actions of the past few days had not been a disturbing dream after all.
Today she’d be a bride. Fear and excitement battled in her belly. She wondered what her da would think of her marrying English. And not just any English. A Luttrell!
She threw back the covers, scooted off the bed, then knelt down to pray.
“Dear Lord, please help me through this day and don’t damn me to an unhappy marriage with this Englishman.” Then she added, “And please, if you see my father, tell him this is for the best. For Fyvie.” She sucked in a shaky breath when a knock on the chamber door shattered her silence.
Heart slamming in her chest, she rushed back to the bed and covered herself just as quickly. If it had been Ursula, the healer would be at her side already, chiding her for sleeping in. Curious though over who’d be calling, she gave the visitor permission to enter.
The curly head of the bishop popped into view. “Scusami. I heard a prayer coming from this room,” the holy man said. “May I come in for a moment?”
The bishop heard my prayer? Rosalyn’s mouth fell open. She didn’t respond, still shocked at the idea he’d heard her words.
“I would not have come unchaperoned on your wedding day,” he said apologetically. She wasn’t surprised when Ursula followed him in.
Stunning was the only word that could describe how beautiful her friend looked in her close-fitting, antique-gold gown, like an otherworldly fairy preparing for an enchanted ceremony.
Not only was Ursula breathtaking, but she’d gone as far as tying tiny sprigs of herbs throughout her hair, making Rosalyn wonder if Mother Nature wouldn’t claim Ursula as her own.
The healer gave her a nod and a knowing smile as she walked towards the bed. She was grateful they’d settled their differences the night before. What had surprised Rosalyn the most, after she’d given her kinswoman the details of the court hearing, was Ursula’s final approval.
It had taken the healer a few hours of stomping around the chamber, tossing herbs, and cursing at everything in sight before she agreed Rosalyn’s arranged marriage was the best judgment the king could have decreed. A device in the end to give Rosalyn what she wanted.
As she replayed the conversation in her mind, she was well aware that the wedding was permitted only after she promised Ursula she would consider an annulment later in the year. The healer had pointed out to her that once Rosalyn was able to re-establish the lairdship under the Macpherson name, she could cut the Englishman loose.
When the bishop clapped his hands together, Rosalyn swept her scattered thoughts away to focus on why he’d come. “You said you are responding to a prayer. Not everyone has a bishop who answers. Why am I so lucky?”
He paused to consider the humor in her words. “Si, it is not often one’s prayers are answered by a knock on the door.” He chuckled. “But in all sincerity, I would assume such on an important day as this.” He paused and studied her. “At least a prayer for a happy marriage. After all, I am your officiant. I’m here to see if you have any questions or special requests.”
“Special requests,” she asked, cocking her head to one side.
“As in the ceremony,” he clarified, then cleared his throat as if he wanted to avoid her request of an unconsummated marriage.
“Handfasting,” she said, almost shouting the word. “‘Tis tradition in most Scottish weddings.” She wasn’t certain what an Italian marriage ceremony would be like and she appreciated that the holy man wanted to make the process neutral, but if the bonds of marriage weren’t presented in the Scottish tradition, even with a man of God officiating and under the roof of the king of Scots, she’d never feel legally married. And as odd as that sounded, it was important to her.
He nodded and grinned. “Then you will have a handfasting. I will talk with the king’s clergy to prepare. I assure you, Rosalyn, you will have a wedding to remember.”
She smiled at Bishop Passarelli. Over the days they’d spent together, she’d become quite fond of him, and he’d treated her like a daughter. As if her prayer was being answered. As if her father was giving his permission and would be there in spirit.
Rosalyn had never favored any of the men her da had selected for her and she thanked the Lord every day that he never forced her into marriage. And even if she was marrying English, she had to admit, Lachlan had some good qualities. She was grateful she was going to have a grand ceremony on the grounds of Edinburgh Castle, with a holy man second to the Catholic Pope officiating. And with the gift of her Fyvie in return. Yes, she would have a wedding to remember.
It wasn’t until she heard the sound of the chamber door opening again and the soft chatter between Ursula and the bishop’s men, that she was drawn away from the group to the full-length mirror. Something or someone was calling to her softly.
As Rosalyn reached the mirror and gazed into it, she took a shocked step backward. Instead of her own reflection, she saw her father’s. When Rosalyn rubbed her eyes, then opened them again, he was still there. Her head spun a little, and the drone of conversation at the door faded away when she spoke to him. “Da, what are you doing here?”
“I wouldnae miss my darling girl’s wedding day. Even as a spirit, I have some privileges.”
Rosalyn sucked in a sharp breath, wanting to run into the mirror and hug him. “Da, I miss you so much,” she whispered, emotion choking her. “Why haven you nae come to see me before today?” she asked, walking closer to his reflection.
“You didnae needed me afore now, my darling Rose. Simple as that.”
That made her pause. As much as it made her proud, it also made her angry. For now, she was determined to hold back the tears, the fear, the uncertainty, hoping the answer to her next question would be the one she wanted.
“Even though I donna hear you, can you hear me?”
He let out a gut-busting roar, one she hadn’t heard in four years past. “There are rules in the spirit world, and I cannae tell you much without penalty, but I can assure you, when you speak to me in prayer, I can hear you, darling Rose.”
Her eyes teared up. “There’s something I must tell you.”
“I know you plan to marry English.” He said it so plainly and without malice that her frown lifted.
“Y-You heard that part?” she asked. “Are you here to punish me, then?”
He laughed some more, holding his gut before answering. “Nay, darling girl. I came to give you my blessing.”
Her mouth opened, then stayed that way as she wondered how he’d come to terms with that. As much as she wanted to argue the point, she was stumped by his words.
His blessing?
While she stared at him in disbelief, he grinned at her. “You are a clever and resourceful girl, Rose. I’ve never questioned your judgment. If you are marrying English, I am sure you have a damn good reason.”
“Who are you talking to?”
The question startled Rosalyn. She looked at the mirror and then to where the voice had come from.
“What?”
Ursula came into view, meeting her at the mirror. “I said, ‘Who are you talking to?’”
Rosalyn pointed to the mirror. But when Ursula peered into the mirror with her, her da was gone.
She spun to face her friend. “You scared him away!”
Ursula’s friendly countenance turned dark. “I scared who away?” she asked hotly, putting her hands on her hips.
For a moment, Rosalyn considered telling Ursula she’d seen her father in the mirror, but the idea was so absurd, it made Rosalyn giggle uncontrollably instead. Her eyes clouded up with happy tears.
“I’m just emotional. ‘Tis my wedding day,” she offered, hoping the excuse of marriage day hysterics would allow Ursula to forgive her for anything out of character she’d do or say. “I was talking to da. Asking for his blessing. That’s all. If he were here, he’d be giving me away.”
Ursula’s face relaxed into a smile again.
“Well, that’s why the bishop’s men were at the door. You see, the King of Scots himself will be giving you away.”
At those words, Rosalyn swooned for a moment. She reached her arm backwards, hoping the edge of the bed was close enough to settle her knocking knees. She was even more nervous than before.
“He was fond of your father, and he said it was as if old Dengas had come to him in his sleep and asked him.” Ursula started making her way to the door while she continued to talk, leaving her alone at the mirror again. “According to the bishop’s aid, His Majesty woke this morn and sent out the decree for everyone in the castle to be ready at half-past five for the glorious ceremony.”
“Well, if the king is giving me away, there’s no going back now,” Rosalyn said more to herself than Ursula.
“No going back,” her friend echoed. “Only going forward,” she added. “Ready for the day to begin?”
Rosalyn sucked in a shaky breath. “I promise, I willnae run away.”
Ursula tossed her a warm smile and silently let herself out the door.
When her gaze returned to the mirror, she’d hope to see her da staring back at her again. Who knew what kind of rules spirits had to follow. She wished she’d had more time to explain why she was marrying English. Her da probably wouldn’t have cared if she loved Lachlan or not. And more likely, he would be happy it was all for Fyvie. For no one loved the land and castle more than her da had.
As she reach out to touch the cold glass where her father’s reflection had been, she took in the weight of Ursula’s words. “No going back. Only going forward.”