A light tap at her door drew her from her musings. “Mistress, everyone is gathered and waiting for ye.” Meggie walked into the room, her eyes bright. “Ye look like a bride.”
“I ken, but I dinnae feel like a bride.” She sighed and picked up the pretty bouquet made from the flowers one of the Stirling lasses had gathered.
“I dinnae ken why yer so glum, mistress. Yer husband is a braw, handsome mon. He is laird of one of the strongest clans left in Scotland. He is flush with coin and even has a liking for yer brother.”
“Aye, I agree with ye on all those points. But the mon is also full of his own importance. Not that a laird is not important, but I dinnae want to enter into a marriage where I will be silenced on every opinion I offer.” She shook her head. “’Tis also that I feel rushed. I barely set my feet down in MacDuff castle, and now I’m to drag myself and my poor brother to Argyll, leaving behind all my clansmen who I’ve kenned since birth.”
“Ye have me,” Meggie snapped.
Katie reached out and touched her maid and friend on the arm, then pulled her in for a hug. “Aye. I apologize. Of course I’m thrilled that ye are coming with me.” She leaned back and smiled. “Shall we get this wedding thing over with?”
As they passed through the bedchamber door, Meggie lowered her voice. “The best part of this wedding is the wedding night.” She winked and added. “But I believe ye have already sampled that.”
Katie ordered the flush that had risen on her face to perdition.
Evan waited for her at the front of the Great Hall with the minister, another MacDuff (what else?), and Alasdair, acting as his witness, standing alongside him. The minister’s beaming smile made her grin, since Evan had told her what he had to confess to get him to marry them posthaste.
Her breath caught as she approached the three men, but she had eyes only for Evan. He was dressed in full regalia, surprising her, since she had no idea he would have traveled from Argyll with his formal clothes.
His hair was still damp from his bath, but what caught her breath more than the clothes and damp hair were his eyes. Two crystal clear green eyes the color of the Scottish hills bore into her as if he could see right to her soul. She shivered at the intensity of his focus on her. The slight tilt of his lips made her feel as though she walked toward him without her clothes. Another flush began in her m
iddle and spread to her face. Good heavens, she must regain her composure. This was not the time nor place to let her mind wander in that direction.
“Ye look beautiful, lass.” Evan took her free hand and kissed her knuckles.
Despite her misgivings about being hurried into this marriage, she was forced to admit that she could have done a lot worse. All the things Meggie had pointed out about her husband-to-be were true. She was sure there were many a lass who would gladly trade places with her right now.
Evan’s strong hand gripping hers, they both turned toward the minister, and he began the ceremony.
For all her worries and fearmongering, the ceremony was over in a flash, and it seemed within minutes she was no longer Mistress Katie Stirling but Lady MacNeil. They turned toward the crowd of MacDuffs and Stirlings and grinned at the explosion of cheers. Roars of “Kiss the bride!” echoed throughout the Great Hall.
“Aye!” Evan shouted and pulled her to his warm, hard body and kissed her in such a way that Father MacDuff began to clear his throat in a rather loud manner. Luckily, her new husband had the presence of mind to pull back, because she’d forgotten everything once his lips covered hers. She was also grateful for his strong arm wrapped snugly, and possessively, around her waist to keep her upright, since surely all her bones had melted.
They made their way to the dais, which was to be used for the first time since she had arrived. There were six places set. She, Evan, the minister, Alasdair, Gavin, and Meggie took their seats, and serving lasses immediately entered the room, carrying large platters of food and pitchers of ale. The rest of the guests—more than a hundred—quickly sat and began pouring ale and digging into the offerings from the kitchen.
She looked over at Evan, who had just turned from speaking with Alasdair. Gavin, sitting on his other side, rose from his seat and tapped Evan on the arm. Gavin spoke to him, a very earnest expression on his face. Whatever he said, Evan took seriously, because he bent his head to the lad and, placing his hand on his shoulder, must have reassured him about whatever it was that had troubled him, because the boy’s wee face relaxed, and he broke into a bright smile. Practically skipping back to his seat, Gavin settled in and dug into his food.
It had just occurred to Katie that aside from his initial greeting when she’d joined him in front of Mr. MacDuff and their wedding vows, she and Evan hadn’t spoken to each other all morning.
“Is all well, lass? Ye look a bit confused.”
Katie shook her head. “Nay. Well, maybe, aye. This all happened so quickly, I’m still a bit disconcerted.”
He covered her hand with his warm one. “Yer hand is like ice, lass.” He moved his chair closer to hers and whispered in her ear. “When this blasted celebration is over, we’ll retire upstairs, and I have many ways to settle ye down. And warm up more than yer hands.” He drew back and gave her that crooked smile that made her insides dance around like a midsummer’s night frolic.
…
Evan leaned back in his chair and surveyed the Great Hall. ’Twas nice how the MacDuffs and Stirlings were getting on, which would make him and Katie leaving in a few days not a concern for Ian MacDuff and his wife to take charge.
Truth be known, he was quite anxious to be gone. He felt as though his work here was finished. His own clan needed him; he had a pretty lass for a wife, a young brother-in-law who needed his protection and guidance, and bad weather on the horizon. He also wanted to put Gavin and Lord Armstrong as far apart as he could. He didn’t put it past the man to try something sneaky.
As soon as most had finished their meal, the tables were pushed back against the wall, and the music started.
The Traditional Grand March began the dancing. Evan stood and held his hand out to his bride. He took Katie’s hand, and with the sound of bagpipes, now once again allowed in Scotland, he marched her around the room. Meggie and Alasdair joined in, and then finally all the guests. Peals of laughter and suggestive comments followed them as they made their way past the guests.
Then Katie filled the Scottish Quaich, a two-handled silver bowl, with whisky and passed it around for the wedding party to sip. It had taken Alasdair some time to find the traditional bowl on such short notice, but he’d turned one up from a villager who’d been more than happy to share his family heirloom with them for the wedding.
As a final tribute to tradition, Katie sat on a chair as an older married woman of the Stirling clan sat on a stool and washed and dried her feet.