A Hellion for the Highlander

Alexander looked at Nathair, but the Man-at-arms simply shrugged.

What gift? What could she have possibly gotten for me? She’s already given me everythin’.

Catherine put out her hand, which held a little blue pouch. She handed it to Alexander, then eyed his outfit critically. “Ye look lovely,” she said finally. “Very handsome. But Cicilia is right, the look will nae be finished until ye put that on yer breast. I’ll leave ye to it.”

As his sister walked away and closed the door behind her, Alexander could feel his hands trembling under the pouch. Based on its weight, and based on what Catherine had said, he could guess exactly what was inside, and he was not sure he could retain his composure if he opened it now.

“Well?” Nathair said impatiently. “Dinnae leave me in suspense.”

So Alexander pulled on the mouth of the little pouch, opening it and emptying the contents into his hand.

When he did, there were tears in his eyes.

It was a small, rectangular pin, shining with the light of new gold, buffed to perfection. On the front, embossed across the badge, were the words Audentes Fortuna Iuvat.

Me faither’s pin. Cicilia had it remade for me. This is the secret she’s been keepin’. Can she even begin to guess what this means to me?

Amazingly, unlike almost everyone else in the world, he was reasonably sure that Cicilia did understand. And as he pinned the badge onto his breast, right where the old one had always sat, he knew for sure he’d made the right choice.

“That’s some lassie ye’re marryin’, Sandy,” Nathair said quietly, a broad smile on his face as he watched all of this unfold. “I cannae believe we both found it when we were least expectin’ it.”

“Aye,” Alexander agreed. He remembered, not so long ago, laying in his bed at the farm and cursing every decision in his life that had brought him to that point. How different things were now. How strange!

An’ I would nae change a single second o’ it.

“Do ye ken somethin’, Nathair?” he asked thoughtfully.

“What’s that?” Nathair said.

“I think we may be two o’ the luckiest men alive,” Alexander told him. “An’ I dinnae ken what we did to deserve it.”

Nathair laughed and patted his shoulder. “It’s nae what we did already, me friend. It’s what we must do from now on, an’ for the rest o’ our lives.”

Alexander considered this and found a smile on his own face. That sounded like the kind of challenge he couldn’t wait to accept.

The wedding was straight out of tradition, in the best way. The only thing that made Cicilia happier than marrying Alexander was the fact she got to do so alongside her best friend. It seemed fitting that both of them had found their lasting happiness.

Both women were dressed in elegant gowns dyed in a bright pinkish-purple that the tailor called love’s longing. The silver trimming was complimented by the tiny heather blooms woven through both of their hairstyles.

On her chest, Jeanie wore the silver luckenbooth that Nathair had used to ask her to wed him. In the same place, Cicilia proudly displayed the pin she’d made for Alexander, showing for sure how she was to be part of his family.

An’ he’s part o’ mine.

At the front stood the two grooms, both clad in the clan’s red and grey tartan and the sarks their brides had bought them. Alexander’s sash was embroidered with gold to denote his status. Still, otherwise, they looked remarkably similar for all their physical differences.

Well. Similar enough. It’d be hard to outshine how handsome me Alexander is today.

The twins stood off to the side with Alexander’s niece and nephew, each dressed formally and looking thrilled. They’d made quite a name for themselves. When the banns were being cried, the four children—Cicilia’s siblings leading the way—had taken it upon themselves to announce the news to everyone they met in the most spectacular way possible.

Cicilia and Jeanie finally reached the front, and both embraced the other groom briefly before turning to their loves. Cicilia gently kissed Nathair on the cheek, but the second she saw Alexander, everything else seemed to stop existing.

Has there ever been a man so beautiful as him?

His blue eyes were shining with happiness, his brow and jaw wholly relaxed and happy for the first time since Cicilia had met him. She loved him so much it seemed impossible, so much it seemed like a deep, pleasant ache that she hoped would never go away.

The minister began to speak, and Cicilia drank in every word as it wrapped its way around how she felt now.

“We’re here today to celebrate two acts o’ the sacred rite o’ marriage. Before us, we have two fine men well-kent to us all—Alexander MacKinnon, Laird o’ Gallagher, an’ Man-at-arms Nathair Barcley. Wi’ them are two fine women, who have brought light into their lives an’ to our clan—Cicilia O’Donnel an’ Jean McCaul.”