He pulled from her embrace and sat at the table, setting his feet upon it, crossing them at the ankles. “So what’s this about you thwarting the betrothal Father set in place with the guardsman? It’s all he can speak of.”
“I don’t wish to discuss it.”
He laughed. “Nay? What of you not wanting to attend Branwyn’s wedding? For she told me you refused to leave this chamber. You’ll disappoint your dearest friend?”
“I don’t want to be around anyone.” Emlyn kept her gaze on the table, knowing if she looked into her brother’s eyes, she’d lose what composure she had.
“Well, glory be. I don’t deem I’d ever thought to see ye love sick and lorn, but ye are. What are you going to do about it, Em? Sit and hide inside this chamber for the rest of your days?”
“That’s the plan.”
He let out a bellowing laugh. “You knew Father would never allow you to war with his men. I cannot believe you came back for that reason alone. Confess for you’ll feel better if ye do.”
She sighed and knew he was right. “I was imprudent and thought I could be a warrior in Father’s army. Was I not the silliest of lasses? What I did to James, I can never forgive myself. I am afraid, Grif.”
“I never heard you say such words. Afraid of what?” Griffen took a small dagger from inside his tunic and began to run it over his whiskers.
Emlyn gazed at her lap. She wasn’t wont to speak of her shame. “Of the heartbreak I caused him. I vow, Griffen, he is such a worthy man, the most of any I’d ever met and I was foolish and walked away from him. His laird bespoke such atrocious words to me when I left. I daren’t repeat what he said, but I cannot return to him even if that is my greatest wish.”
“So you admit it.” Griffen chuckled and set the dagger on the table with a bang. “You do love the guardsman?”
“Aye, of course I do. But he won’t want me now.” Emlyn could’ve cried at the sorrow of her words.
“Won’t you attend Branwyn’s wedding? For I know that would at least make you smile if only for an hour or two. Come, the festivities have begun and if you ever cared for her, you will put aside your self-loathing for a wee bit.”
“Aye, you’re aright. But I have nothing to wear. I cannot go garbed in this gown.” Emlyn wasn’t about to go to her friend’s wedding in the wrinkled and soiled gown she wore.
“I was prepared for this and asked Suzanna for a gown. It’s outside in a satchel.” He hastened to the door and returned with it. “Now ready yourself. I’ll be waiting for you outside. Don’t dally as you are wont to.” Griffin shut the door.
Emlyn went to the bowl of fresh water she’d retrieved earlier. She washed her face and disrobed of her garments. She pitched them in the hearth where a small fire was set. An instant brightness shone in the chamber when the fabric engulfed with flame. There was no sense in keeping the garment as it was beyond repair.
She pulled out a gown of crimson velvet with a gold overlay of floral. How it would clash with her hair, but she didn’t care. She’d wear it with pride. Hastily, she pulled the gown over her head and found matching slippers in the satchel. With her fingers, she detangled her hair and then twisted two tresses on each side and knotted them behind her head. When she was finished, she felt much better, if not cleaner.
Outside, the night had cooled the heat of the day, and many of her family’s followers joined in the festivities. Noise reached her from where those danced and caroused. All she wanted to do was find Branwyn, wish her well, and then retreat.
Griffen took her hands and clasped them in his. “You look lovely, sister. Your friend will be gladdened to see you. Will you at least smile?”
She put on a fake grin and nodded. “Where is she?”
“There, ahead. Go and see her.”
Emlyn walked forward until she stood in front of the table where Branwyn sat. She was laughing and seemed to be having a jovial time. Emlyn wasn’t wont to ruin her day and she turned.
“Wait.”
She turned back. “I came because … You look so beautiful, Bran. I always knew you would look so on your wedding day.”
Branwyn hugged her fiercely. “I am happy you’re here. Come, join us. Cranog, get Emlyn a drink and move down a seat.”
Her new husband set off to do her bidding and returned with a drink, and handed it to her. Cranog had removed the whiskers from his face, and Emlyn found herself grinning, for she remembered what Branwyn told her about her wedding night. He was much more attractive without the hair hiding his handsome face. His fair hair had grown, and he had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen on a man. How pleased she was that her friend had found love and married well.
Emlyn sat beside her friend and waved to Delyth who sat a few seats away. She couldn’t get Branwyn to release her hand. “I promise not to run off if I can have my hand back.”
Her friend laughed a merry sound. “I fear you might run off. I never thought to see you again and here you are, sitting at my wedding feast. Can you believe I am a married woman?”
“Nay, but you will make him a good wife. You were always willing to do all the things I was not.” Emlyn shook herself, not wanting to sound so woeful on her friend’s happy day.
Branwyn leaned close. “I shall tell you a secret. I deem you could easily do the tasks of a wife, Em, for it’s not that difficult. Just tiresome at times and I vow you have more energy than anyone I know. If you can best a man on the field with a sword, sewing a tunic would be child’s play.”
She laughed. “Mayhap. Have you danced with your husband?”
“Oh, aye, I have. He’ll be wanting to high off to his friends who are waiting to toast him. Go on, Cranog, but drink not too much for I expect ye to … be sober when ye come to our bed this night.”
Those around them laughed and Emlyn shoved her friend’s shoulder. “Cease being a shrew and let him have this one night.”
“Hah, one night indeed. His nights are no longer his to enjoy. So tell me of your journey. I want to hear it from you and not second-handed. Is it true you pretended to be a princess so Marshall wouldn’t want you? I vow you are cunning, and always was.” Branwyn raised her cup and waited until she clicked her cup against it.
Emlyn sighed. “I am contrary of clever, truly. But I wish not to discuss my sorrow, Bran. For it is your day and we shall be merry even if it kills me.”
“You shall be merry, I promise. If I could change things I would have Bevan here. He, at least, got you to smile. I remember how he used to jest with you and you would laugh and blush, especially when you thought no one was looking. You’d likely be heavy with child by now were he here.”
She took Branwyn’s hand. “Let us not speak of him. For my heart cannot take any more sadness. Aye, don’t look at me like that. I admit I may have had more fondness for Bevan that I admitted. I’ve lost two loves in less than one year. A woman shouldn’t have to bear such pain.”
Branwyn gasped. “So it is true, you love the warrior, James?”
“Aye, I realized it a little too late and there’s nothing to be done about it now.” Emlyn snatched the cup Cranog had gotten for her and finished off the ale. “But verily, can we forget about that. Oh, nay, there is my mother. I hope she doesn’t see …” Too late. Her mother walked hastily toward her.
“What are you doing here? Did I not banish you?”
Emlyn stood. “Mother, not here. Not on Branwyn’s day. I will speak to you another day about your banishment. I wish not to upset my friend.”
Her mother glared and then glanced at Branwyn. “You have endangered us and I shan’t forgive you. I shall speak with you now. I will give you a sennight to leave our land. I care not where you go, child. Go you shall.”
Her mother marched off and Emlyn retook her seat. “I vow she is rather angry, isn’t she?”
Branwyn giggled. “Just a mite. Where will you go?”
Emlyn shrugged. “I know not, but something will come to mind.” For the remainder of the night, she pondered her mother’s words and thought about where she might find sanctuary. She thought perhaps the Ross’ laird might aid her, for he did have empathy for her when the king sent her away.