The Highlander's Lost Lady (The Lairds Most Likely 3)

“It wasn’t necessary to go to all this trouble,” Fiona said, accepting a bouquet from Marina. When Diarmid noticed it was made up of roses, he felt like someone punched him in the stomach. The most romantic of flowers seemed to be haunting him. “I didn’t wear anything special for my first wedding.”

When she’d been a frightened fifteen-year-old girl forced into an old man’s bed. Diarmid caught Marina’s eye, and knew she shared the same thought.

“Even more reason to make an occasion of your second wedding,” Marina said.

Fiona sent her a reluctant smile. Even from across the room, Diarmid could see that she was as taut as a violin string.

Why wouldn’t she be? A second husband was the last thing she wanted, and she wasn’t reconciled to what she saw as taking advantage of him. He’d tried to explain that he claimed responsibility for her welfare. But how could he explain what he didn’t understand himself? All he knew was that he felt a fierce need to see her safe and happy.

A fierce need that this wedding answered, despite all the problems surrounding it.

Right now, when he looked at his glorious bride, he

knew that in giving her his name, he provided her with a security she’d never had before. He suddenly felt at peace with his decision in a way he’d never expected.

Perhaps he and his father had more in common than he knew. His father had dedicated himself to one woman, despite knowing she’d never give him what he wanted. Fiona was a different creature from his reckless, faithless mother, but the end result was the same. Diarmid, like his father, would spend his life hungering after what he couldn’t have.

Perhaps it was time to stop blaming his mother for not loving his father and seeking her happiness wherever she could find it. One thing Diarmid had learned lately was that few emerged unscarred from the perilous jungle of the human heart.

For the first time since he was old enough to understand the tension between his parents, he drew a breath untainted with bitterness over his mother’s betrayal. To his surprise, the air tasted sweet. He’d carried his resentment around for so long, he only now realized how the burden had weighed him down.

Rest in peace, Mamma.

As he crossed to take Fiona’s arm, his smile was genuine. Who knew how this marriage would play out? He already owed his reluctant bride a debt for helping him to see his unhappy parents with adult eyes, not the eyes of an abandoned child. “Ye look bonny, lassie.”

When his hand curled around her silk sleeve, she gave a start. But her voice was steady as she replied. “Thank you. So do you.”

Ridiculously, like the schoolboy he hadn’t been in years, he found himself blushing under her admiring gaze. “Och, Fergus came to the rescue.”

Luckily he and Fergus were of a height and of a similar build. The superfine black coat might hang a wee bit loose on his lean frame, but at least he looked a proper bridegroom for his wedding.

He smiled at Fergus and Marina. “We both owe ye more than we can say.”

“Any time, laddie.” Fergus turned to face the minister who waited in front of the unlit hearth with a prayer book in his hands. “Shall we proceed, Reverend Angus?”

“Aye, if Mr. Mactavish and Mrs. Grant are ready.”

“Are ye ready?” Diarmid murmured to Fiona.

“Are you?” Wide blue eyes full of doubt focused on him. “There’s still time to change your mind about this outlandish scheme.”

“This is the only way to save Christina, Fiona.” He paused. “I have a feeling we were heading for this moment since we met.”

Her lips turned down with the familiar self-mockery he liked so much. “You should have left me on that beach.”

“No, lassie, that I couldnae do. Ye made the place look untidy.”

As he brought her forward to the minister, he heard her stifle a huff of laughter. Not a bad way to start a marriage, he thought.

The ceremony didn’t take long. To his surprise, Fiona spoke her vows in a confident voice. Her demeanor gave no hint that she harbored doubts about this union. She held her head high, and her spine was as straight as a ruler.

Because she was a widow, he supposed a new bride’s blushing hesitation was inappropriate. Hell, what reason did she have to blush anyway? She’d slept undisturbed since he met her, and she’d sleep undisturbed tonight, too.

Damn it.

Even that thought couldn’t cast a pall over what they did, although he wasn’t foolish enough to imagine he’d remain quite so reconciled to his cold marriage as time went on. Just now, he wasn’t ready to borrow trouble. Something felt right about this simple ceremony in this room he’d always loved, with his dearest friends by his side. There were worse ways to pledge your life to a woman.

As he’d known it would, the most uncomfortable moment came at the end of the ceremony, after he’d slid the gold ring Fergus had found for him onto Fiona’s slender finger.