Corinne woke with a start when Gellis entered her chamber.

“Time to rise, milady,” Gellis said brusquely. “Today is an important day.”

Corinne’s heart leapt to her throat. Both Reid and Gellis seemed to feel the need to remind her, but they needn’t have. It was Corinne’s wedding day. For better or worse, she would never forget it.

Gellis helped her through her morning ablutions, then lifted the blue-green silk gown from the trunk at the foot of her bed. The gown had been meant for her wedding to Halbert de Perroy, but now, thanks to one of the men who’d raided her wagon, she’d wear it today.

Gellis clucked her tongue in muted approval as she slid the gown over Corinne’s head and began lacing the bodice tight. It fit Corinne perfectly, of course, because it had been made for her, yet Corinne was awed into silence when she glanced at the polished silver plate Gellis had brought to serve as a looking glass.

The material matched her eyes perfectly. The wide scoop neck revealed her delicate collarbone and the upper swell of her breasts, which were on display thanks to Gellis’s tight cinching. Gellis fitted a belt of braided silver silk around the fitted waist, just above where Corinne’s hips flared and the material fell in rich, loose waves to the floor.

“There isnae much we can do with yer hair,” Gellis commented, eyeing Corinne’s head, “but I think I can manage something.”

By the time Gellis was done combing and twisting and fitting a garland of green herbs and leaves into her hair, Corinne gazed in amazement at her reflection. Tears stung her eyes as she stared at herself.

Part of her had always known she would be wed to some powerful man or other. She’d been trained practically from birth that her purpose in life was to marry, bear children, and serve her household. Yet for so many years, she’d believed that she could change her course, rewrite her fate, and become a scribe.

Now here she was, a bride with the hair of a nun, her future husband not an English lord but a Highland Laird. It seemed that all her plans had tangled together to become something known and new, something foretold and never anticipated all at once.

Gellis slipped out of the room to ensure that the rest of the wedding preparations were progressing, leaving Corinne to sit on the edge of the bed, fear and uncertainty and anticipation churning together in her empty stomach.

A long while later, Gellis returned and instructed Corinne to go to the castle’s sea gate. The great hall was empty, though noises of frantic cooking drifted from the kitchens at the back. When she entered the yard, it was also deserted except for the few guards posted at the watchtowers. They looked down at her in silence as she crossed the yard to the sea gate.

Timothy and his small rowboat awaited her there, though neither Reid nor any of the other castle inhabitants were anywhere in sight.

In silence, Timothy rowed her to the village and helped her onto the dock. He motioned her into the heart of the town, where Corinne noticed a crowd gathering. Their backs were turned to her, but someone must have noticed her approaching, for a murmur went through those gathered, and they began to part.

As they made way for her, she realized they’d congregated before the village’s small church. Two figures stood on the stone steps before the chapel—a man in black robes, and—

Involuntarily, her breath caught in her throat. Reid stood beside the priest, his dark hair pulled back into a queue at the base of his neck and his face freshly shaven. Even from this distance, she felt the moment when his stormy gray eyes locked on her.

His shoulders stiffened beneath his clean linen shirt. He wore the green and blue Mackenzie plaid belted around his waist, as he always did. Though his clothes were simple, he looked every inch the commanding Laird, his dark head towering over everyone else’s from the steps, his feet planted wide, and his hands clasped behind his back.

Corinne’s legs faltered for a moment, but before the silent, watchful eyes of all the clan, and held captive by Reid’s gaze, there was no going back now.

Mustering all the poise and confidence she possessed, Corinne strode forward—toward Reid and her future. No matter what came next, no one could call her a coward on her wedding day.

She met him on the steps, blushing under his intent gaze. He opened his mouth to say something, but the priest cut in and began the ceremony.

Time seemed to blur and stretch as the priest moved through the rituals. Corinne could have heard a pin drop when he asked if anyone had cause to object to the union, yet it was a tense, uneasy silence. Numbly, she repeated her vows and stared at Reid’s moving lips as he did the same.

The day was overcast and sharply cold, and by the time the priest pronounced them man and wife before God, a chill had settled into her bones. Reid’s swift, light kiss brought a staid cheer from those gathered, but the crowd quickly fell silent once more.

Reid took her hand and guided her through the crowd toward the dock. Timothy waited, mutely rowing them back to the castle. Other boats, carefully supervised by Mackenzie and MacRae guards, were allowed to launch as well so that the villagers could join the wedding feast at the castle.

When they scraped against the small sandy inlet on the back side of the island, Reid lifted her from the boat and carried her through the sea gate to the great hall. The kitchen staff must have been hard at work throughout the ceremony, for the tables were now laden with roasted meats, steaming vegetables, fresh bread, and an assortment of puddings and late-season fruits for the feast.

Reid carried her to the table on the raised dais at the back of the hall, setting her down into an ornately carved wooden chair. He took up the even larger chair beside her, gazing out at the villagers as they began to filter in for the celebration.

“I didnae have time to arrange for musicians or entertainers,” he murmured, watching his people slowly take their places at the long trestle tables below the raised dais.

“That is all right,” Corinne said, exhaustion and tension tightening her throat. “No one seems in the mood to celebrate.”

His brows lowering, he opened his mouth, but she held up a hand to stay him. “I do not mean to criticize them—or you. I understand why they are not pleased by this union.”

Reid’s face darkened further, and Corinne realized belatedly that she’d said the wrong thing. But the deadening weight of first her own nervousness, and then the stonily somber ceremony, had left her too wrung of energy to amend her words.

She hadn’t known what to expect today, but some part of her had hoped for a pleasant, happy wedding. Though no one had been outright rude, the clan’s displeasure was like a thick fog hanging in the air.

Reid’s apology last night—and the scorching kiss they’d shared—had buoyed her, giving her hope that mayhap things wouldn’t be so bad. But if today was any indication, her new life would be aught but smooth.

Those in the hall ate mostly in silence, with the occasional restrained toast to the Laird’s health and the clan’s strength breaking the uncomfortable hush.

For her part, Corinne ate little and said even less. Under the stares of those gathered, she hunched into herself. Where was her bravery from earlier at the church? It had melted, dripping away like armor made of ice.

At last, Reid cleared his throat and stood. The hall stilled, all eyes locking on their Laird.

“For the sake of my bride’s modesty, I have already had Father Ewan bless our marriage bed,” he said. “There will be no bedding ceremony. Enjoy the rest of the wedding feast.”

With those curt words, he scooped Corinne up from her chair and strode across the hall toward the spiral stairs.

Again, staid cheers rose, but they fell away as soon as Reid’s foot landed on the first step.

Corinne held herself tense in his arms as he made his way to his chamber. Once he was inside, he set her on her feet and closed the door behind them.

Though she had been here last night, she’d been so focused on her anger—and then the sight of Reid bathing—that she hadn’t paid much attention to the chamber itself.

Like her room, it was simply furnished. An enormous bed took up nearly half the space. There was a trunk and an armoire, a dressing table and chair, a hearth with a fire flickering in it, and fresh rushes on the ground. A few colorful tapestries depicting battles hung on the walls, softening the otherwise stark stone.

“I hope ye dinnae mind leaving the feast,” Reid said.

“Nay,” she murmured. She was suddenly struck by what was about to happen. They’d spoken their vows before God and the clan. They’d made a public showing at the feast. The only thing left to do was—

Blood roared in her ears as she stared up at Reid. Though she was taller than most women, he towered over her. He seemed to fill the large chamber with his commanding, assured presence.

His steely eyes were inscrutable beneath dark brows. He must have sensed her rising panic, for he didn’t mince his words.

“Are ye ready, lass?”

“Aye,” she breathed. As ready as she’d ever be.