art_ana's Full Review: Julie Garwood - The Wedding
I'd Leave
I'd leave all the hurry,
the noise and the fray
For a house full of books
and a garden of flowers.
Andrew Lang
What could be more pleasurable then spending a few hours on this summers longest day reading a good book.
I have just the one for you: The Wedding by Julie Garwood. It takes you to the Highlands of Scotland and England. What I liked best about this story is that it isn't just another romance where everything is just a big mush, it has a lot of substance, intrigue and is very funny. Following are some of my favorite parts. Sit back and get comfortable while I give you just a taste..............
"Avenge me, Connor MacAlister. Take my hatred into your heart, protect it, and nurture it, and when you've grown older and stronger, use my sword to slay my enemies. I cannot die in peace until you've given me your word you'll avenge this evil deed done to me and mine. Promise me, boy." "Yes, Father," Connor fervently vowed. "I will avenge you."
It wasn't love at first sight. Lady Brenna didn't want to be presented to company. She had far more important things to do with her day. The important thing was to catch a piglet, she would have preferred a pup, but Papa had let her older brothers and sisters have them all, and none were left for her, and she meant to right his terrible wrong by taking one of the piglets. Now she was punished for sassing her Mom and had to sit on a chair and not talk...............................
Joan, Brenna's older sister walks in. "Tell me what you've done. I promise I won't lecture you." "I sassed Mama. Did Papa catch your husband for you, Joan?" "I suppose he did, " she admitted. "Did you help?" "No. I'll meet my husband on the day I marry him." Aren't you scared he's ugly?" Brenna whispered................................. "Elspeth says Papa won't ever find anyone for me. She says Papa's to busy for the likes of me. I have to catch one by myself. Will you help me?" Joan smiled. "I can see this worrying you. I'll be happy to help." "How do I get one?" Joan pretended to consider the matter for a long minute before she answered. " I imagine you select the man you want and then you ask him to marry you."
He wore war paint to his wedding.
Connor had vengeance on his mind and his heart; though, in truth, he didn't think he was unusual. Every highlander worth his sword was vengeful. It was simply the way things were. The laird wasn't happy about the duty he'd taken on, but he was an honorable man, and he would do whatever was required to gain justice.
" It isn't to late too late to change your mind," Quinlain the first in command, close friend and loyal follower, remarked. "There are other ways to retaliate against MacNare on my father's behalf." "No. I've already sent word to my stepmother that I am taking a bride, and nothing you can say to me will make me change my mind." "Remember, friend, he shamed and humiliated your family."
Quinlan suddenly laughed. "I'm thinking God had a hand in this, Connor. We didn't know until this morning the name of the daughter you meant to take. Do you remember her yet?" "She wasn't easy to forget. The truth. She did ask me to marry her. You haven't forgotten that fact. You laughed for a week." Quinlan nodded. "She asked you three time, but I would remind you that was eleven years ago. She will surely have forgotten." Connor smiled. "Will that matter/"
Lady Brenna was suddenly overcome with the eerie sensation that someone or something was watching her. She didn't make any quick movements. If a wild boar or worse were close by, any sudden actions would only draw attention to herself. She pulled her dagger free and slowly turned as she stood up, bracing herself for what might be lurking in the dark underbrush. There wasn't anything there. It was very foolish for her to walk so far away from where her father's men were but she desperately needed some moments alone.
Fatigue had to be the reason she was imagining threats that weren't there.
Laird MacNare. Heaven save her, every minute she had thought of her future husband she usually threw up. Granted she had never met the man and could be jumping to all the wrong conclusions. He might be quite pleasant. All those horrible stories about him might be exaggerations. Lord, she fervently hoped so. Enough of this self-pity. Her father's soldiers were probably anxious to be on there way, then she heard and abrupt shout from Harold, the soldier in charge of her escort. She picked up her skirts and went running back toward the camp to find out what was wrong. Her lady's maid, Beatrice, intercepted her. "Run, mi'lady," she screamed. "We've been attacked by demons. Hide yourself before it's too late. The savages are going to kill the soldiers, but it's you their wanting most of all. "I can't leave the soldiers. Go, save yourself." If they want me, perhaps they'll let father's soldiers leave. It's a poor substitution, one life for twelve. I know it's foolhardy, but I must try." She hurried to the clearing and began her final prayers to God. Then she started chanting. "Oh Lord, Oh Lord, Oh Lord." She tucked the word painless every other second. In her heart she was certain God understood what she was asking.
They were waiting for her. There were only five savages, standing in a half-circle behind her father's soldiers. Still the five were enough to make her knees start quaking and her stomach lurch. Her first concern was for her soldiers. She looked them over to ascertain the extent of injuries and was surprised, and relieved, to see they looked as fit as ever. She had to force herself to look at the outcasts again. Lord they were a sight for future nightmares. Yes, savages. The description fit, given that they had blue paint smeared on their faces. Fearless, she ordered herself. I must be fearless. "I am Lady Brenna."
"Why won't you speak to me?" The one she had been staring at suddenly smiled at her. "We were waiting for you to finish your prayer." Good God Almighty, she'd been praying out loud. " I was praying for patience," she announced with as much dignity as she could summon. "Who are you?" "MacAlister's men." "The name means nothing to me. Should I know him?"
"You know our laird very well, mi'lady."
"You are mistaken, sir."
"Please call me by my name, mi'lady. It's Owens, and I would be honored if you would." "You really don't remember our laird?" Owens asked.
"Why would I remember him? I've never even met the man."
"You asked him to marry you."
"You are mistaken, Owen. I did no such thing."
"But , mi'lady, I was told you asked him three times."
"Three times? I asked him..."
She suddenly stopped. Three times. Good God, she couldn't be talking about... She shook her head in disbelief. No, no that was years ago, and he couldn't possibly know what she'd foolishly done. Only Joan knew about her plan to catch her own husband. "This man denied my request...didn't he?"
"Twice he sent back hi refusal, but it's our understanding you're still waiting to hear his answer to your last proposal."
"I am not waiting to hear his answer." Her voice was emphatic.
It would seem to us that you are," Owen insisted.
Honest to God, they looked sincere. What in thunder was she going to do. " Is this man still alive? He must be terrible old by now. Did he send you to me?"
"He did."
"Where is he?"
"He's standing right behind me, isn't he?" She thought her nervousness had kept her from hearing him. Oh, yes, he'd been right behind her, all right. How could she not have known? The warrior was as tall as a pine tree. If she reached out, she could pinch him. She was stared at his massive chest, suddenly to worried to look up. His size was staggering. She really was going to have to look at his face, she told herself. He'd see it as a sign of cowardice if she didn't.
Connor was just running out of patience when she looked directly into his eyes. His own reaction surprised him. He'd thought her pretty when he was watching her by the stream, muttering to herself, but he hadn't taken the time to observe how truly beautiful she was. How could he not have noticed such perfection? He'd been furious when he'd seen how besotted his men were with her and now he admitted, he was in the same condition. His discipline finally came to his aid..................
The women was going to have to get past her fear of him. He clasped his hands behind his back and waited patiently for her to get hold of herself. She really was going to have to become accustomed to being around him. She was going to be his wife, no matter how long it took him to get her to agree in front of the priest.
Brenna was determined to hide her fear and thought she'd been successful thus far. She couldn't tell if he was a handsome devil or and ugly-as-sin one. She couldn't get past the blue paint to notice. The giant wasn't a god or a demon. He was just a man, very primitive and frightening, yet still just a man. Besides, anyone with a pinch of sense knew women were smarter than men.............
"I don't remember you."
He shrugged. He obviously didn't care if she remembered him or not.
"There seems to be a misunderstanding," she began again. " I wasn't waiting for you to answer my proposal." " I was just a child then . Surely you haven't been considering my request all these years." Didn't the man have anything better to think about? "Your men were jesting with me, weren't they?"
He shook his head. Her throat began to ache with her need to shout at him. Apparently he was as demented as his followers, though less convivial. How was she ever going to get through to him?
He was determined to marry her. She argued, she pleaded, she prayed. She'd tried everything but physical force. And all for naught. She had to resort to unladylike measures next......
Nothing was ever simple with the women.
"Laird, if your followers would form a half-circle behind you, they may all be witnesses to this joyful event."
Here I will conclude and let you find out the rest for your self.:}
"This review is part of the Summer Solstice Write-Off hosted by
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out the summer scribblings of amycamus, art_ana, BeeCharmer, bmcnichol,
caspian, eplovejoy, flak-attak, Girl_Goddess, jo.com, jro26, marytara, naphtalia,
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