CHAPTER 33
The castle was abuzz with activity.
Nearly two weeks had passed since Jamie’s return to Dundale. The expectation was that the MacDonalds would try to invade but they never did. All was quiet. Mayhap, Malcolm said, it was the quiet before the storm.
Chloe was certain they would try again.
It was the day of her wedding and all worry and fear were set aside.
There was a festive feeling to the air. Evie had had a glowing excitement in her face all day.
She’d spent the morning in the kitchen helping Roslyn with the preparations for the coming wedding feast. But not only a wedding feast—a feast to celebrate the return of the youngest MacLeod brother.
Roslyn said it was a miracle he had returned and was determined to commemorate it by making his favorite mincemeat pie.
Chloe didn’t mind sharing the limelight with him. Perhaps it would help ease her guilt for leaving him behind in the first place.
When she visited Jamie while he was still convalescing, she expressed her deepest regret about that when she told him about the secret passageway and finding their way out. She did not tell him, however, that she was the one who set the castle on fire.
“Och, lass, dinnae fash yerself about that,” he had said with a winning smile. “’Twas the only sensible thing to do.”
“But—”
“Ye did what you had to do,” he interrupted. “Ye protected my brother’s wife and my nephew.”
She lifted a brow in bemused question. “Nephew?”
“Aye.” Then he smiled broadly. “I’m going to be an uncle.”
It made her giggle the way he was so certain Evie was going to have a boy.
Thinking of it now made her smile. She hoped Evie did have a boy. Maybe she’d name him after their father.
Now, she stood in her bedchamber as Evie fussed over her.
Her gown was simply stunning in an ivory silk with long, flowing lines.
The sleeves were bell-shaped. The bodice was formfitting to her every curve with a jeweled girdle that helped accentuate her waist. An intricate floral pattern trailed down the skirt of the gown.
A scalloped hem with the same floral motif added a touch of elegance.
Chloe felt like a fairy princess as she stood while Evie buttoned up the back of her gown.
“Oh, Chlo. I wish Mom was here to see this.” She sniffed and pretended her eyes weren’t misty with tears.
“Me, too,” she said.
She expected to feel the pang of longing for their mother on her wedding. But she wasn’t the only person she wished was there. She wanted to share this day with Brianna, too.
Thinking of Brianna being there for her wedding surprised her. Despite their differences and Chloe’s ill feelings toward her, for she still held a grudge for her past actions, she was still family, and blood was always thicker than water. She wanted her there.
It wasn’t the first time she wondered if Brianna would accept the keystone from Moira in that antique store in Edinburgh.
Which made her wonder how Brianna would end up in Edinburgh to begin with.
What event would send her there? They hadn’t spoken in years.
Likely, Brianna hadn’t a clue she was there on a work visa. Unless Evie had told her.
And Evie might have told her. Evie was somewhat more forgiving toward their older sister than she was.
But today wasn’t the day to think about that. Today was a day to be happy. To think about a future with Malcolm, her warrior Highlander who had vowed to protect her with his life and his sword.
A knock on the door sounded. Evie hurried to it and cracked it open. Malcolm’s muffled voice was on the other side.
“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” Evie stated, clearly.
“Oh, let him in, Evie. It’s not like we believe in that superstition anyway,” Chloe said, exasperated.
Evie cut her a glance over her shoulder and pretended to frown, but then pushed open the door to let him inside.
“You have two minutes and that’s all,” Evie said, her voice stern as she marched out and closed the door behind her.
Malcolm stood before her in his finery. He wore a crisp white tunic underneath his MacLeod belted tartan.
It was draped and fastened on the shoulder with a silver brooch.
He wore black breeches, polished, if well-worn, leather boots, his sporran, and a wool cloak.
His cheeks and chin still sported that three-day growth of beard she loved.
He gaped at her as she stood before him in her gorgeous gown. She shifted from one foot to the other, a sudden awkwardness coming over her.
“Well? Do I pass inspection?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.
“I’ve no seen a bonnier lass then ye, love.”
She flushed hot at the compliment.
He reached for her. She placed her hand in his. He glanced down to see the bandage around her hand was gone. Turning it over, he traced the silvery scar that crossed it. The burn scar from the keystone was still there, but the scar from the cut likely would never go away.
“Yer hand is healed.”
“Yes,” she said. “It didn’t take long. I think it has something to do with the magic in the keystone.”
He lifted his gaze to hers. “And yer shoulder?”
“Still sore but better.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin. “Good. I promise to take great care when I tup ye later.”
“Is that why you came here? To flirt with me?”
“I dinnae ken what ye mean by that, but nay. I dinnae come here for that. I came to give ye this.”
He reached into his sporran and placed a small object in her hand.
It was an elegant circular brooch adorned with an intricate Celtic knotwork pattern.
It was made of silver with the pin extending across the back of it to secure it to a heavy cloak or other garment.
Embedded within the design on each side were two amber stones polished to a high shine, winking in the light of the room.
She stared at it for a long, quiet moment. She’d seen this brooch before.
In Mystic Treasures.
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe or think or move. She simply stared at it in complete and utter shock.
“I ken is no much. It belonged to my mother.”
“I love it. It’s beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”
And it was perfect. She planned to wear it on her cloak when she walked down the aisle to be handfasted to Malcolm.
He smiled, well pleased. Seeing his smile warmed her heart and made her love him all the more.
Evie came back into the room, breaking into their moment.
“All right, you’ve been in here long enough. Time to get to the chapel.”
She hustled him out of the room before he made any objections. As he stepped through the door, he gave her one last look. One last smile. And then Evie closed the door and turned to her, hands on her hips.
“Since when did you become a mother hen?” Chloe demanded.
“Since always.”
Chloe smiled. She was right. It was since always when she took over after Brianna left.
Her sister’s eyes lit up when she noticed the brooch in her hand. “What is that?”
“Malcolm gave it to me. He said it was his mother’s.”
“Oh, Chlo, it’s beautiful.” She ran a finger over the circle in awe.
“Pin it to my cloak, Eve. It’s time for me to get married.”
***
Evie escorted her from her bedchamber to the chapel. When they arrived, Callum waited outside the doors to walk her down the aisle. He was dressed in his Highland finery like Malcolm. His tartan was draped over him and pinned together at his shoulder.
When they arrived, Evie turned to her and kissed her cheek, her face alight with joy. Then she hurried into the chapel to take her seat near the front next to Jamie.
Chloe took a deep breath and peered through the doorway. The chapel was alight with what seemed like a thousand candelabras.
“Are ye ready, lass?” He held his arm out to her.
Nodding, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.
Together, they walked into the chapel down the center aisle.
Every seat was filled and all eyes were on her as they made their way.
But her gaze was fixed solely on Malcolm, who stood at the front next to the bishop, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
When they came to the altar, Callum kissed her cheek and took his seat next to her sister.
Together, they turned toward the bishop as he began speaking.
“Today, we gather to witness and celebrate the sacred union between Malcolm and Chloe. They shall be bound together in love and commitment by the rites of handfasting. They both come of their own free will to bind their love and loyalty to each other.”
The rest of the ceremony was a blur for her. Their hands were bound, their vows exchanged.
The bishop announced, “As yer hands are bound together, so shall yer lives be bound as one. May ye enjoy a lifetime of love, peace, and happiness. Let us rejoice in their union. Ye may kiss yer bride.”
His kiss was slow, thoughtful, and probably the sweetest one she had ever had.
Cheers went up. Evie rushed to her to hug her. Even Jamie beamed at their union.
“Two MacLeod lassies now,” Roslyn proclaimed as she wiped a tear from each eye. “I cannae wait to have the hall filled with little lads and lassies.”
Evie grinned and cut her a glance. Chloe flushed hot, her cheeks burning. Malcolm merely chuckled.
The crowd started to make their way out of the chapel toward the celebratory feast in the great hall.
Callum wrapped an arm around Evie as they walked together.
She and Malcolm followed, stepping into the cool night air.
But the crush of people overwhelmed her, leaving her feeling as though she were suffocating.
“Can we wait a moment?”
“Are ye well? Ye look a wee bit flushed.”
She sucked in a deep breath, the crisp air filling her lungs. “I need a bit of air.”
“Something troubles ye, eh? Is it what Roslyn said about the bairns? She meant nothing by that.”
She shook her head as he pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms. She basked in the warmth of his body radiating over her, the warmth she loved with every breath she had in her.
“No. It’s not that.”
“What, then?”
She pushed the thought away. She didn’t want to think of anything other than her husband on this night. But the worry had gnawed at her since their return to Dundale.
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
He dropped a kiss on top of her head, hugging her tight to him. She felt safe and secure in his arms.
“I ken Bruce is still alive.”
“You do?”
“Aye.”
“He will come back, you know.”
“Oh, aye. But we will be ready for him and the rest of his ilk.”
She tipped her head back to look up at him. “And if the third piece of the keystone arrives?”
“We willna let it fall into the wrong hands.”
She rested her head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart underneath her ear. “I hope you’re right.”
He pulled away then, holding her hands in his and looking deep into her eyes.
“I make this second vow to ye here, now. Ye are my wife. A MacLeod. And ye have my name, my clan, and all the might of it behind ye.” The back of his hand swept over her cheek, warm against her chilled skin. “We are one flesh.”
His words rooted deep, weaving through her like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Her chest tightened, her breath catching as she met his gaze—those sea-green eyes, endless and fierce.
“Now and always?”
“Aye, lass. Now and always.”
His mouth claimed hers, sealing his vow to her. And in that strong, unyielding kiss filled with quiet passion, it was a bond nothing could break. It was a bond of forever.
THE END