Meanwhile in the silent cabin Syna stood near the table with her palms placed on the edge of the wooden table that had a black glass slab on it, her palms were dug into the sharp edges of the shiny glass while the bride was completely occupied by the thoughts of her beloved, Sinclair MacLaverty.
'Aargghh! Get your senses Syna.'
The lady patted her cheeks roughly, the emotions were running like a poison in her blood that she didn't feel any pain from such a hard slapping.
'Don't fear, you know he won't ever hurt you.'
The bride assured herself but was it really true or the powerful lord was playing something hidden beneath his lovey dovey facade?
