Amanda Scott Read Free Page B

begin.
    As a result, Adela believed her marriage to Ardelve would be as happy as anyone could wish. So what, she asked herself, was wrong with her? Why did she not feel
something
?
    She normally felt things deeply, and she normally expressed those feelings easily. One had to do so, after all, if one was to manage a castle full of servants, let alone to manage such an unruly sibling as Sorcha had been or a father as blustery as Macleod could be. Even the youngest of her sisters, the elusive Sidony, had required just the right degree of Adela’s self-expression. But now—
    So lost in thought was she that when Sorcha touched her arm again, she started violently and nearly cried out.
    Sorcha’s smile faded to a worried frown. “Pinch your cheeks,” she said. “I vow, you look as pale as chalk. Is aught amiss? Does your shoulder still hurt?”
    “Nay, it has healed,” Adela said, ignoring the ache that lingered from an injury a fortnight before. “I’m quite well.”
    “You don’t look it,” Sorcha replied with her usual candor.
    “Easy, lass,” Sir Hugo said, laying a restraining hand on her shoulder.
    Not, Adela mused, that anyone—even the tall, hand-some, imperious Hugo—could restrain her sister unless Sorcha chose to allow it.
    Hugo smiled as he said, “Doubtless you are recalling the last such occasion, Lady Adela. But no raiders will interrupt today’s festivities, I promise you.”
    Since he controlled Roslin Castle’s security, Adela knew he meant what he said. Politely if automatically returning his smile, she said, “Indeed, I have no such fear.” She could hardly tell him she felt nothing at all, that it was as if she were in a dream, disembodied, watching four unknown figures about to walk to the altar.
    The look that crossed Hugo’s face then nearly matched the deepening frown on Sorcha’s. Adela saw his hand squeeze her sister’s shoulder a little harder, as if he sensed without looking that she was about to speak.
    For a wonder, Sorcha kept silent.
    Hugo said quietly, “You should not wonder if you do not feel a bride’s usual excitement, lass. It can be only natural for you to feel wary now. I’ve seen similar reactions in brave men after one battle, about to face another. I warrant it must be much the same for you now.”
    “Pray, sir, do not concern yourself,” she said. “What happened to me cannot possibly match aught that occurs in battle. I suffered no hurt, after all. I do not believe he would ever have harmed me.”
    Hugo’s grimace revealed his disagreement, but he did not contradict her. He said, “I think the piper is about to play.”
    Macleod had stood quietly beside her, taking no part in the conversation. Now he said, “Aye, lass, and we’re to go first, ye ken, after your maidens. So hold your head high. Ye look well, even if ye’re no wearing blue for good luck.”
    Adela took a deep, steadying breath before she said with forced calm, “I pray you, sir, do not tell me blue is a luckier color than yellow-gold, for I don’t want to hear it. Last time I complied with your superstitions. I even agreed not to marry on a Friday that fell on the thirteenth of the month. Only recall what those precautions won me.”
    “Aye, sure, but it might ha’ been worse had ye no worn blue. Never ye mind that now,” he added hastily. “That gown becomes ye. It brings out the green flecks in your eyes and makes your hair look like golden honey flowing down your back.”
    Adela tried to ignore the thought of sticky honey oozing down her back, reminding herself that he rarely paid compliments and was thus out of practice.
    He held out his arm to her, and the fact that her maidens were walking up the narrow aisle between flanking rows of standing guests, nearing the altar, recalled her to her wits. Obediently, she placed her right hand on his forearm and waited.
    Sorcha and her younger sister Sidony had served as Adela’s bride-maidens for the first wedding, but she and Sorcha