Chapter Thirty-Eight
In which Luna finds that love and family were there all along.
Luna…
Two weeks later…
“Now see, this is the perfect combination,” Sloan says, lounging on my bed and looking longingly at the other girls, who are happily guzzling champagne. Just that, and the fact that she keeps absent-mindedly touching her stomach, tells me all I need to know. She and Ethan haven’t made an announcement, so it’s probably early days in their pregnancy. I’ll have to congratulate her quietly later when we’re alone.
“Aye, half what ya wanted, half what the Lady Elspeth demands,” agrees Catriona.
The dressing room is crowded with some new faces: Masie, Catriona’s sister, and twins Edin and Eilidh, who are Uncle Lachlan and Aunt Aria’s girls. Isobel, whom I just met today but already adore, is Aunt Sorcha and Uncle Alastair’s daughter, and Martina, who breezed in casually with an armload of additional champagne bottles and wearing a blue felt dress and thick reindeer hide boots that she described as “formal wear in Lapland.”
She’s Uncle Alec and Aunt Fee’s daughter, and I have a feeling we’re going to be friends after hearing about a dam she blew up in Texas that was blocking water to the farmers below. “It was so these rich arseholes could make a lake to go jet-skiing by their vacation homes,” she raves, her accent an interesting mix of British and Irish. “Can you believe that shite?”
Yeah, I like her a lot.
“How did ya do with the Lady Elspeth?” Kenna asks.
“It was an unforgettable moment,” I admit.
I met the Lady Elspeth this morning when she presented me with a PowerPoint lecture about our wedding on the MacTavish family estate. Her manicured finger had rapidly tapped over the iPad, going through caterers, the Celtic band, the guests, the weather forecast, secondary plans for weather or security issues…
She’s a diminutive woman, even shorter than me, with perfectly styled silver hair and sharp jade-colored eyes. It makes me question how she produced all the gigantic MacTavish men who are currently milling around the massive gardens outside the Dowager House, which is a smaller reproduction of the MacTavish mansion on the other side of the grounds.
“You’ll be more comfortable here,” the Lady Elspeth assured me. “You don’t want any of those lumbering idiots to intrude on your preparations. This house was built in the 1700s. MacTavish women used to reside here during their pregnancies to avoid dealing with their idiot husbands. Our men have become considerably more civilized since then, of course.”
After seeing this tiny titan in action, I’m certain these men have been civilized within an inch of their lives.
“To be honest, this wedding is more like 80% of what I wanted,” I say. “The white chocolate marzipan wedding cake, the flowers- all those peonies! Even down to the layout of the garden wedding, it’s everything I love. I’m wondering if she hacked into my Pinterest account.”
I meant it as a joke, but the others look at each other with little smirks.
“What?”
“That’s because they were from your Pinterest boards,” Sloan says. “Someone might have taken a look at your account and sent the info to the Lady Elspeth.”
“What?” I ask, feeling self-conscious. “Was it you?”
“Nope,” she says, refilling my champagne glass, “it was Kai.”
Damn it. My eyes immediately fill with tears, and Kenna dives for me. “Ach! Nae, none of that. Dinna ya dare start with the tears. It took forever to get ya looking this good.”
“Thank you for your refreshing honesty,” I say crossly, but it does the trick, and the tears stop. “Also, did you know your accent gets super thick when you’re freaking out?”
“You’ll sort it out eventually,” Sloan says. “It took me a while to fully understand what most folks were telling me when I moved here. I’m sure they thought I was a simpleton because I kept nodding and smiling until Ethan translated for me.”
“It’s still the King’s English,” Isobel says, “we canna help that Americans dinna get it.”
They argue the standards of proper English while I enjoy the warm little glow in my heart. Kai’s an overbearing beast, but the fact that he thought to look at my Pinterest boards to make sure I had the wedding I’d dreamt of? What man does that?
Mine does.
“So, is it true that you pulled out a pistol and shot your uncle like Annie Oakley, then?” Martina leans forward, eyes glittering with interest.
“Maybe not the best conversation for the pre-wedding game, fam,” Edin says.
“He was trying to kill Kai,” I say a little defensively. “I didn’t have a choice. Even his family doesn’t seem too upset about it.” I won’t ever forget it. That I killed a human being. I won’t forget his face and the blood. So much blood. But I’ll never be sorry I did it.
“How did you learn to shoot like that?” Martina asks.
“Please. I’m from Iowa . We have more guns than people. And my pop took me hunting with him sometimes.”
“I’m sorry they’re not here.” Isobel is so damn sweet. “We have their wedding picture on the chairs meant for the parents of the bride.”
“And a picture of your grandfather, too,” adds Sloan.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, will ya stop makin’ her cry?” Kenna races at me, waving her hands. “We dinna have all day for this shite.”
A knock on the door saves us from a cosmetic-related disaster, and everyone does that smirking thing again.
“What?” I sniffle a bit.
“Another MacTavish family tradition,” Isobel laughs. “We’ll be taking our leave now.”
As they quickly file out, Kai walks in, resplendent in his kilt and black Prince Charlie jacket, with his dark hair tousled and sexy. His thick thighs and muscled calves flex as he walks, and it is insanely arousing.
“You’re so hot.” I blurt out, and he laughs.
“I think it’s my job to tell ya how bonnie ya are.” His gaze moves slowly down my dress, a simple cream-colored silk with a long, embroidered train. “And ya are, my bride. So beautiful. In fact, I’m thankful my sporran might be covering my reaction to ya.”
I glance down and groan. “How can you be hard right now?”
“I’m always hard around ya, little fox. It makes getting work done a wee bit difficult.” He grins at me shamelessly, kissing my hands.
Scooping me up, he settles on the window seat overlooking the grounds with me on his lap. “I’ve heard the stories about what the MacTavish men do when they visit their brides in the Dowager House. Not exactly what ya wanna hear about your Da and Mum.” He looks a bit ill at the thought as I laugh. “But I’m not here to ravish ya.”
“Oh? And why not?”
“Because…” His huge, warm hands are running up and down my sides, gently squeezing my waist. “Because tonight, I’m gonna take ya to our honeymoon retreat…”
“Yes?” I ask a bit breathlessly.
“It’s a grand place, with a forest behind it.” His hands are hovering dangerously near my breasts before he pulls one away and puts a box on my lap.
Pulling off the lid, I stare at what’s inside.
A wolf mask.
It’s impressively lifelike; the fur looks real, and the muzzle is designed with the lips drawn back and fangs snarling.
“Oh… Well, shit.” I gulp.
“I want ya to think about it, little fox.” His lips are right next to my ear, brushing my skin, and I shiver. “The dark forest and me behind ya, howling like the monster of your dreams and nightmares, chasing ya down and fucking ya on all fours.”
My nipples are diamond points, clearly visible in the thin silk bodice and I groan, rubbing my ass against his erection.
“The pine trees and the wind witnessing me mounting ya, making ya come over and over till ya beg me to stop.” His voice drops to a growl, and he gives my earlobe a sharp nip, tugging at my diamond earring. “But I won’t. Not till I’ve had enough and I decide when we’re done.”
My mouth is opening and closing, but nothing is coming out but a high little whine.
Kai gives me a tender kiss, careful not to smudge my lipstick. “I’ll be waiting for ya at the altar, little fox.”
Whistling, he boxes the wolf mask back up and walks out the door.
My beautiful husband is indeed waiting for me, standing by the priest with Michael, Logan and Ethan as his best men, wearing a huge grin as he watches me walk down the aisle on the arm of Dougal, who kindly requested the “honor,” as he’d said. Sloan, Catriona, and Kenna stand next to me as I join Kai on the dais, and I look out over the guests.
I recognize so many more faces than I expected to. My bridesmaids are beaming, and Kai’s best men are wearing huge grins. The last strains of the bagpipes float up into the afternoon sky, and Father Hamilton nods to me kindly and begins the ceremony.
“Dearly beloved, you have come together with the intention to enter into marriage…”
After the rings are exchanged and vows made, Father Hamilton closes his book with a smile. “You may now kiss the bride.”
Kai sweeps me off my feet, lifting me for a toe-curling kiss that takes over every cell in my body, his tongue sliding into my mouth, and I feel the growl rumbling in his chest.
“I didn’t know a heart could contain this much happiness.”
I’m sitting on Kai’s lap, watching the sun sink into the golden hour. But for the first time, I don’t care about taking pictures. The Lady Elspeth has three photographers racing around the celebration, and every one of them looks exhausted.
“I’m a wee bit surprised ya didn’t melt into a puddle of tears when Seanair came over,” he says, kissing his way down my neck.
“Just a few!” I say defensively.
Cormac MacTavish Senior is still a legend of a man, even in his seventies. He took my hand after the ceremony with a warm smile. “Congratulations, my dear. You’re a brave and strong lass, and it’s a pleasure to call ya a MacTavish. And while ya have a grandfather, God rest his soul, I want ya to know that I’m proud to be your Seanair, your grandfather, too. Ya will always have family at your back.” His eyes twinkled, “And, sometimes right in your face. But we’ll be here.”
“Thank you,” I’d croaked, and by then, my carefully applied mascara was a hopeless case.
“I love your – our – family.” I kiss Kai again. “And I love you. So much.”
“My bonnie wife, I love ya too. You’ve been in my heart since that first night on the island,” Kai says. He nuzzles the side of my neck. “I do believe it’s getting late, Mrs. MacTavish.”
“Really, Mr. MacTavish?” I give him my best innocent look, which is not remotely believable. “And what should we do about that?”
With a deeply satisfying growl, he sweeps me up into his arms, and with a chorus of cheers and catcalls, he puts me in his silver Mclaren convertible, which really does look like a spaceship, and we speed down the drive, my veil flying off my head and I do not even care.