CHAPTER TEN
Castle Lachlan
Palms moist, Emily waited with Isobell in the passageway outside the MacLachlan family chapel.
Breakfast in the great hall had passed in a happy blur.
Afterward, she joined Gregor, along with Archie, Isobell, and the clan priest, in the chief’s study to sign marriage documents.
Her stomach raged with turmoil and she thought to bolt, but when the time came for her signature, she took the quill from Gregor’s steady hand with only a moment’s hesitation.
Having put ink to parchment made everything seem so very real. A shiver skittered over Emily’s tense shoulders. Was she really about to marry Gregor?
“Are you chilly, my dear?” Isobell asked “Would you like me to fetch a wrap?”
“I’m fine.” Emily shot her hostess a quick smile. A smile she didn’t feel.
It wasn’t too late. If she left before they said their vows—
Her head throbbed. She rubbed her temples, trying to remember what she’d been thinking. Movement caught her attention.
Munn skulked along the hallway toward them, mumbling under his breath.
When he noticed them standing there, he jerked to a halt, his lips thinned and his forehead wrinkled into thick creases, as though her presence caused him great consternation.
He made an abrupt turnabout and disappeared in a blur of brown and green fabric.
Emily shook her head. Such a strange little man.
She peered into the empty chapel. Even at this mid-morning hour, candles lit the room.
A door to the side of the cloth-covered altar opened.
The priest entered, knelt before the altar, made the sign of the cross, stood, and faced the same door of which he had entered.
The door was a private entry to the chapel from the chief’s study where the men had remained after the signing to discuss pressing clan business while she and Isobell had withdrawn to the passageway to wait.
Gregor appeared in the doorway next. Followed by Archie and Tevin.
All three dressed in light colored tunics and draped in plaid cloth of the same blue, red, and black.
Golden light from the candles flickered and flashed, causing their shadows to dance upon gilded walls and furnishings.
Emily’s insides quivered. She wet her lips. Pinched her cheeks. She could do this. She could.
Gregor’s dark gaze circled the room, landing on her. His pleased smile helped quell the riot of nerves bent on keeping her immobile.
The light pressure from Isobell’s palm against the small of her back encouraged her to proceed. Emily swallowed, summoned inner strength, and stepped across the threshold.
Her husband-to-be strode forward and grasped her hand. “Your beauty leaves me breathless.”
A thrilled gasp of surprise escaped her lips. The smile she leveled on him came from the heart. “You are quite handsome yourself this morning.”
His grin took her breath away. Made her realize there was nowhere else she’d rather be this morning than here with Gregor.
“Thank you for agreeing to become my wife.” He gently squeezed her hand, bowed, and brushed a kiss across the tips of her fingers.
An electric tingle hummed up her arm. Lit up her nervous system. Made her heart lurch.
His eyes widened. He must have felt a similar sensation.
What should she say?
He obviously didn’t expect a reply for he guided her toward the altar.
The priest greeted them with a nod then looked beyond them to the few who came to witness their union. "Are there any among you with reason this couple should not wed?"
There was a shuffle of feet behind them and a soft cough, but no one spoke up against their marriage. Emily released the breath she held.
“Please kneel.” The priest indicated two embroidered velvet pillows that had been placed on the stone floor before the altar.
Gregor assisted her to her knees. He knelt beside her, keeping possession of her hand and interlacing their fingers. His warmth soothed the flutter in her stomach.
The priest turned to the altar and held up a narrow, hemmed length of cloth made from the same plaid the men wore. He bowed in prayer then turned back to them and tied the cloth around the wrists of their entwined hands. “This cloth binds your love together.”
Emily flicked a glance at Gregor. He gave a quick nod, and she returned attention to the priest. The priest’s words seeded hope in her heart. She and Gregor would find love together. Perhaps he was the reason the pixies brought her to the past.
The service flashed by in an instant. It was time for the reciting of vows.
The priest bade them to stand and removed the fabric that had bound them together.
She knew what was coming next. She hated that she didn’t have a ring for Gregor.
He assisted her to her feet and remained facing her, the silver ring he held glittered in the candlelight. His gaze softened. “With this ring—”
The crash from the back of the chapel, as the heavy door slammed against the stone wall, made Emily jump and swing around to see what caused the commotion.
“One moment, please.” A handsome fiftyish man with graying hair covered with the dust of travel strode into the chapel.
With an abrupt nod to the priest, he genuflected before the altar, then dragged Gregor into a bear of a hug.
After several backslaps on both sides, the man bowed to Emily. “Mistress.”
With a wrinkled brow, she watched him step away into the small group at the back of the chapel. Who on earth?
“Emily.” Gregor grabbed her attention, a broad smile toying with the curve of his mouth. “With this ring, I thee wed…”
She didn’t hear the rest of his words. Tears of joy pricked the back of her eyes. His father had sent the ring. The man must be a messenger from Dunadd. Gregor placed the beautiful gold and peridot ring on the second finger of her left hand.
Deeply touched, Emily stammered through her vows.
“In front of God and these witnesses I proclaim you man and wife. You may kiss your bride, lad,” the priest instructed Gregor.
Emily gazed at her new husband with awe. It didn’t matter they were strangers. She sensed there was something special between them, perhaps magical, something that bound them together even though they were from different places. Different times.
She studied his full lips, anticipating the feel of them against her mouth. She moistened her lips, wanting him more than she would have imagined possible only a few days prior.
His pupils dilated, and he sucked in a ragged breath. He lifted a loose tendril of her hair and tucked it behind an ear. His calloused fingers brushed along the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.
Fire and ice. She shivered. A delicious chill tingled over her shoulder blades. Why was he making her wait?
He grasped the back of her neck. Placed his other palm against the curve of her cheek. His hot gaze devoured her. Held her enthralled.
Her pulse quickened. Her mouth went dry.
“Please,” she murmured, voice low, raspy, needy.
He grinned and lowered his head. A whisper of breath teased her lips before he made contact and brushed his full lips over hers, the gentle kiss achingly seductive.
She curled her arms around his neck, leaned in, and pressed against his broad chest.
Teasing the seam of her lips, he nudged them apart, deepening the kiss, exploring the moist recesses within, taking possession of her mouth. Of her soul.
She claimed him, too. Chose to forget they stood before those few gathered to witness the wedding.
A loud catcall slipped through the sensual haze surrounding her, and she attempted to pull away. He didn’t allow it. His kiss became more demanding, and she surrendered to it. When they finally broke apart, her cheeks flamed with heat.
Holy crap. If he made love the way he kissed, she’d be in heaven.
She kept her thrilled smile to herself as they turned to those who’d come into the small chapel to offer congratulations.
A large ginger-haired man slapped Gregor on the back. “I told you she would take you for a merry ride.”
The messenger from Dunadd stepped forward and again hugged Gregor. He then turned to Emily, inquiry in his dark gaze.
“Emily, this is my father. Allain of Dunadd.” Gregor pivoted to his father. “My wife, sir.”
She should have known. The man’s eyes were the same dark chocolate color as his son’s. She should have caught the resemblance sooner.
“I am verra pleased to meet you, daughter.”
“And I you,” she curtsied, guessing that might be expected.
Isobell scooted over and hugged Emily. “Now we are cousins.”
Gregor guided her through the others.
At the doorway, Munn held a jeweled goblet to Emily. Another, he offered to Gregor. “May your marriage be blessed.”
Gregor accepted his, but Emily hesitated. Could the contents be tainted by magic?
She glanced over her shoulder to the woman who stood behind her. “Isobell?”
Isobell cast a penetrating stare at the brownie. “May I taste the wine, Munn?”
His wrinkled face wrinkled more, folding in on itself, as he pursed his lips in a nasty grimace. It occurred to Emily the little man was insulted. After a moment more of uncertainty, Munn gave a curt nod.
Isobell accepted the goblet, took a sip, and handed it to Emily. “Quite tasty, my dear. The fruity flavor is verra pleasing. And harmless.”
Gregor frowned, glanced at Isobell, and then Emily. He raised a brow.
“I’ll explain later,” Emily said.
Then she bent her knees and lowered to the brownie’s three-foot height. “Thank you for the wine and your heartfelt congratulations.” She kissed his cheek.
His unusual blue-green eyes widened. He shuffled his oversized feet and lowered his gaze. Rosy red color suffused his face.
Emily kept a grin to herself as she straightened.
Gregor raised his cup to her, and they shared a wordless glance. Her stomach shimmied with anticipation.
Tevin dashed through the crowd. A stern look from Archie slowed the boy’s pace. He wrapped his arms around her legs and looked up at her. “Lady Isobell said I can stay with Lach while you go away. May I? Please?”
Emily had already discussed this with Isobell. She ruffled his curls. “Sure.”
“Come, let us get you changed into something more suitable for riding, Emily.” Isobell guided her and Tevin away from the well-wishers.
Allain of Dunadd placed a hand on Gregor’s arm as they passed. “May I have a word with you, son? In private?”
Gregor watched the sway of Emily’s hips as she withdrew. He raised his cup to the wee brownie. “I thank you for this fine wine, Munn.”
He took a long swallow of the ruby liquid then followed his father back through the chapel and into the chief’s study. Gregor placed the goblet on the hearth mantle, straightened his shoulders and turned to his sire.
“How did this come about?” Da demanded without preamble.
“By this, I assume you refer to my marriage?”
“Aye. What else?” Da’s dark eyes smoldered. “I sent you to Castle Lachlan to learn skills from the chief you will require when I am gone and you become keeper at Dunadd. I did not send you here to wed an outlander. I thought you wanted to prove yourself capable?”
“What of my happiness?”
“Ach, Gregor.” Da ran a hand through his graying hair. “Of course I want you to be happy, but you have wed a stranger.”
“At the command of my chief.”
Da’s jaw tightened. “Explain.”
Gregor retrieved his wine from the hearth and dropped into a chair next to his da. Heavy of heart, he searched his mind for the right words to describe all that transpired since he’d found Emily on the faerie mound.
“Is the bairn hers?” Da blurted before Gregor had a chance to form clear thoughts.
“Nae. The lad is the son of Stephen MacEwen.”
“Ah…” Da’s eyes widened. “Well then, you have quite the tale to tell.”
“Aye, sir.” Gregor relayed the events leading up to this day.
The chamber became awkwardly silent. Da stood.
Paced across the space. He poured some whisky from the flagon the chief kept on a side table into a cup and knocked it back.
After another moment passed, he turned and gave Gregor a pointed look.
“All I ask is you dinnae consummate your vows so when the threat of danger to the lass and bairn has passed you can attain an annulment.”
Gregor gulped the remaining wine in his cup, barely tasting its flavor. He had no intention of ending his marriage.