Chapter Thirty
Three days later, Alana stood in the courtyard of Hartsmoor Castle as her parents arrived. Their grim expressions made her aware to their real thoughts of all the events that had transpired since she had left Auchenford all those weeks ago.
Laird and Lady Hart greeted them and warmly welcomed them to their home. Her father shook hands stiffly with Rory’s father and bowed to Lady Hart. Her mother curtsied them both. Both of their mouths set in a thin line.
Her nerves jumped as her parents approached Alana.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected their reactions to be.
The time she had spent at Hartsmoor had been naught but cheerful.
As Rory had warned, the castle was loud.
His sisters made lots of noise. His brother and brother-in-law were raucous.
And Alana loved every minute of it. It was so different than the quiet serenity of Auchenford.
Not serenity, she realized now, but solemn.
She found that she preferred the noise over the silence. It brought a sense of happiness to her world.
Rory had told her about how the discussion with his father had gone. She was surprised at how accepting his father and mother were. She did not think her parents would feel the same. And from the looks on their grim faces, she was right in that thought.
Her father kissed her briskly on the cheek, and her mother did the same afore turning to Rory.
Her father’s eyes narrowed as he took the man she loved in, sizing him up to see if he was worthy of his daughter.
She wondered why he hadn’t put as much effort into finding that information out about Michael MacDonell.
Her father had to crane his neck a bit to look in his eyes as Rory height was much taller than him.
“Rory Hart, I presume?” Her father asked.
“Aye, Laird Duran. ’Tis a pleasure to meet ye.”
Her father harrumphed. “Mayhap if the circumstances were different I could say the same. Ye have placed us in quite the predicament.”
Laird Hart cleared his throat. “Lillias, why dinnae ye bring the women to yer drawing room for tea?”
The lovely woman smiled, and she was lovely. Her fair hair and skin complimented her blue eyes. Whilst Rory favored his father’s looks, he got his soft side, the one he kept hidden and unveiled only for her, he got from his mother.
Lady Hart clapped her hands together. “A lovely idea, dearest husband. Ladies, shall we?” She gestured toward the castle and Alana, her mother, and Moira moved inside.
As they walked, Moira hooked her arm in Alana’s. She’d spent the last few days learning all about Rory’s family, and she and Moira got on exceptionally well.
Inside, they moved to the second floor and settled into Lady Hart’s drawing room, a comfortable and welcoming space that Alana had spent a lot of time in since her arrival.
Overstuffed chairs were peppered throughout the room, offering ample seating.
The hearth emitted plenty of heat to warm the room, and soon servants appeared with trays of tea and berry tarts.
At first, conversation was stilted, but Lady Hart had a way of making everyone feel at ease and conversation began to flow naturally.
Alana learned that her father had been angry when he found out what had happened, but in the time since they first had received the news, he’d had time to contemplate the outcome.
They had naught against Rory, and, when all was said and done, Alana learned that her parents were much happier that she had found love and solace with him and no’ the MacDonell.
They did not discuss money as that was not their place and it was something that would be worked out betwixt the men.
By the time they had finished tea, her mother was smiling and acting much more of her usual self then when she had first arrived.
Later, when they were alone, walking the hall to the chamber that the Hart’s had kindly granted to Alana, her mother paused, and pulled her in for a warm embrace.
“I am happy ye found a man that looks upon ye as Rory does. ’Tis obvious he loves and cares for ye verra much, and ye him.
Yer father will give his blessing. Dinnae fash out that. Or aboot us. We will be fine.”
She hugged her mother back. “Thank ye.”
*
The day was sunny and warm when Alana and Rory exchanged their vows, promising to love each other throughout their days. The Hart chapel in which they had stood was quaint, but beautiful. Stained glass windows filtered the sun in colorful prisms that danced along the walls and floor.
Rory looked dashing in his formal wear, the Hart plaid secured over his shoulder.
Alana wore a gown of ivory layers that billowed like waves about her feet, which were encased in soft, silk slippers to match.
As Alana had appeared at the entrance of the chapel, her father at her side leading the way, her stomach did a flip at how handsome her soon-to-be husband looked. The huge smile on his face and the love and appreciation in his eyes nearly brought her to her knees.
But the kiss that sealed their union after they’d each spoken? Now that was worth a thousand lifetimes. Rory’s lips had her toes curling and she couldn’t wait for the celebration to end so they could retire to Rory’s chambers.
Currently, her husband, och, how she loved the sound of that, was dancing a jig with Errol, and a dismal Alpin, who they had pulled onto the floor. The man had been miserable since his courtship with a lass named Effie had ended. Why he was so upset, she was unsure since he was the one to end it.
Beside her, Moira giggled at Errol’s over-the-top movements. The love shining in her eyes was apparent to anyone that gazed upon her. She and her husband were very much in love. They defeated the odds that were against them. Much like she and Rory had done.
Eilidh, Moira’s younger sister, played the fiddle with the other musicians, her fingers flying over the strings, and Alana watched with admiration.
“Eilidh is very talented on the fiddle,” she commented to Moira and the woman nodded.
“Aye, she is. She actually travels with a band of musicians sometimes playing festivals and gatherings. Our da is no’ a fan of her traveling, but her talent cannae be contained, so he allows it.
” Moira looked at Alana, her tone growing serious as she clasped their hands together.
“I want to thank ye for showing Rory that he has worth. For a long time, he has been lost, unsure of his path. But no’ anymore.
Ye’ve brought the smile back on his face.
It has been missing for quite some time. ”
“I could say the same to him for me. We found each other at the time when ’twas most needed—for both of us.”
Errol and Rory joined them just then, out of breath and laughing. Alana handed Rory a chalice of ale and he drank deeply, her eyes drawing to his bobbing Adam’s apple as she watched. She smiled. “Ye looked to be having fun out there.” She nodded to the space where couples continued to dance.
He leaned over to kiss her cheek and whispered in her ear. “No’ as much fun as we will have later.”
Her cheeks flushed profusely, and she looked around to see if anyone had heard, but the music and murmurs of the crowd were too loud.
Pulling her up from her chair, he led her into the middle of the room, Errol and Moira following closely on their heels. They danced for what seemed like hours afore she finally surrendered. “I cannae possibly dance anymore,” she confessed, swiping her hair out of her face.
Rory leaned in close. “I believe we have made a proper appearance and can retire to our bedchamber for the night.”
Her stomach did a little skip at the thought of the night ahead.
It had been too long since she and Rory had lain together.
She wouldn’t disrespect his parents by doing so in their home without she and Rory being wed.
He agreed and didn’t pressure her. But she had expected naught less from him, though they did find plenty of alcoves to steal a kiss or two here and there.
Later, after they had stripped and freshened up, Alana lay back on Rory’s huge bed and waited for him to join her. She didn’t have to wait long.
“I have been looking forward to this night for what seems like fore’er,” he said, lying down beside her, making the bed dip.
He traced lazy circles over her bare stomach, then circled each nipple afore dipping his head down and catching each one betwixt his teeth, nipping gently, then licking away the wee bite of pain.
He kissed his way down her stomach, past her navel, and continued to trail kisses lower until he reached the apex of her thighs.
He nudged them apart, baring herself to him and he grinned up at her.
She was already wet for him. She’d been longing for this moment all day.
Blowing on her damp curls, he tickled and teased, afore burying his face in her mons.
His tongue darting out, licking up her folds, as she writhed and ground her hips under him.
His tongue circled her bud of nerves, and then he sucked it into his mouth.
Her hips came off the bed, and a cry left her lips, her fingernails scraping along his scalp.
“Rory!” She cried, and he chuckled against her, causing a whole new sensation that vibrated throughout her body.
He continued until she felt as if she were going to go daft, and then he pushed a finger inside her, and she clenched around it tightly.
Easing in and out, he added another, and then another.
Her breath came in pants, and she lost all control of her body.
Unable to keep still, she writhed and bucked against him, and just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he brought himself up and captured her mouth in his.
She could taste herself on his tongue as he plunged it into her mouth at the same time he thrust into her center.
“Oh!” She gasped, scoring her fingernails into his back. His pace was fast, quick, hard. They had been apart in this way for far too long. He plunged into her over and over. Deep as he could whilst he plundered her mouth.
Reality began to slip from her. She was going to go mad.
She kenned it. She was feeling everything everywhere.
That familiar feeling, that inferno that only Rory could ignite within her built.
Grew, higher and higher, bigger, and bigger, as his thrusts grew more erratic, his breaths coming in her ear as gasps.
Then she was toppling over the cliff’s edge. She’d climbed, and now she was falling. Fierce shudders overtaking her body and all movement was beyond her control, taken over by a passion so strong, it couldn’t be contained.
With one strong, final thrust, Rory seated himself deeply inside her, spilling his seed, filling her, as he hollered out the pet name he’d given her. “Bluebell.” The one she loved to hear him say.
A final shudder overcame him and he finally collapsed on to the bed on his back, drawing her with him so she lay atop him, nuzzling his neck, as he drew light circles over her skin, causing her to shiver.
“I fear ye will be the death of me, Bluebell,” Rory said once he had gotten his breathing under control. “But I will die a happy man.” He kissed the top of her head and pulled the throws over them.
“I dinnae want to think of yer death. We have many years ahead of us.” She kissed his chest, the hairs tickling her nose.
“Aye, we do. I verra much look forward to what our future holds. As long as ye keep enchanting me, I will want for naught. I love ye, Bluebell.”
She smiled into the muscles of his chest. “I love ye, too, Rory Hart. Thank ye for escorting me. In doing so, ye saved me.”
“Och,” he clucked his tongue. “Ye saved yerself. I was only there to support ye in any way that I could. Now, rest. ’Tis been a busy day.”
It had, but it didn’t stop them from waking up three more times during the night and showing each other how much they enjoyed their newfound freedom to come together whenever, and wherever, they wanted.
Currently, they were lying in front of the fire, the throws pulled off the bed and spread on the floor as Rory took his time loving her.
She stroked his cheek, staring deep into his eyes, and wondered how she happened to get so lucky.
The shadows of the flames danced across his face, making the dark flecks in his green eyes bright as he looked at her like she was his whole enchanting world.
It was the same way she saw him.
Sometimes one had to live through the bad to get to their happy ending.
They had done that. Allowing each of them to save themselves when it mattered most.
This man.
This man was her world.
Forever and always.