Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Fergus’s breath formed a fog in the crisp January air as he stepped from the carriage Lord Thorne had sent to collect him. Three weeks had passed since Eddi had accepted his proposal, and their wedding day had finally arrived.
He had come early to the church to ensure Reverend Adair had built a fire large enough to warm the chapel, so his bride wouldn’t catch a chill.
Despite the blinding sunlight reflecting off the fresh snow, the wind froze him to the bone.
It would be another frigid night, but he wouldn’t complain.
Any excuse to keep Eddi in bed was one he’d take gladly.
Upon entering the church, he found his sister and cousin Leana had already arrived. Ismay looked up from the pink and white flowers she was arranging as he ambled down the aisle. “Where did you find flowers, lass?”
“Lady Thorne said I could visit the hot house and take whatever the bride might like.” Ismay grinned and returned to the arrangement. “I didn’t expect to see you so close to sunrise. I wagered with Leana you’d still be bundled up in bed with your betrothed.”
Fergus grunted. “Never you mind what me and my betrothed were up to.”
Last night, he and Eddi had practiced the old Scottish custom of bundling, passing the long, cold hours snuggled together in his bed at the cottage.
When his mother had first suggested the tradition, he’d scoffed.
Neither he nor Eddi were young, and he’d expected his betrothed to recoil at the thought of tying her legs together to preserve her virtue.
Eddi surprised him, however, by finding the custom charming. Except for the ropes. Fergus heartily agreed to forgo that part. He didn’t want his woman trussed up like a turkey, especially when he’d ached to explore every inch of her.
He’d behaved himself, though, and observed the part of the tradition about speaking with his bride to become better acquainted.
Even though he’d already spent every possible moment with her during their betrothal, it was a tradition he didn’t mind following.
Once they were wed, his inquiries would be far more intimate, like where she liked to be touched.
The moment couldn’t arrive quickly enough for him.
Ismay pulled a pink lily from the bouquet, tucked it in a different spot, paused to study her work, then grabbed the lily again.
Fergus frowned. “Shouldn’t you be at the castle helping Mistress Gallagher dress?”
“I have plenty o’ time. Every wedding needs flowers, and your bride will thank you.” She replaced the lily with a satisfied smile and clasped her hands to her chest. “Perfection.”
Leana abandoned her task of securing massive bows to the pews and came over to view Ismay’s handiwork. “You should move this one to here.”
She reached for a white flower, but Ismay smacked her fingers, making Leana draw back with a pouty glower.
“You shouldn’t keep my bride waiting,” he said, wrapping an arm around each of their waists and guiding them toward the double doors. “The carriage will take you back to the castle.”
“Verra well,” Leana grumbled, throwing on her pelisse. “You can finish the bows.”
Ismay draped the McTaggart tartan over her head to create a makeshift hood. “Mistress Gallagher will be a vision in her dress. She made it herself. Talented, that one.”
“Aye, she is.” Fergus smoothed a hand over his jacket sleeve. The new clothes Eddi had made for him fit better than anything he’d ever owned.
Once the lasses were gone, he went in search of Reverend Adair and found him in the back of the church, bent over a waning fire in the hearth.
“Is that all the kindling you have?” Fergus asked, eyeing the meager stack on the stone floor.
The minister tossed him a sour look. “I have enough, Mr. McTaggart. If you had your way, it would be as hot as hell in here.”
“Well, maybe more folks would be motivated to attend if their bums werenae frozen to the pews.” Fergus chuckled as he headed out the back door to gather more wood from the large stack leaning against the wall.
When Fergus returned, voices drifted from the sanctuary. He deposited the wood on the minister’s stack and dusted off his hands. “I’ll see who’s arrived while you build up that pitiful fire.”
In the middle of the church stood Lords Thorne and St. Ambrose. The marquess turned a slow circle, studying the stained glass windows. “It’s a lovely place for a wedding, but the castle suits my purposes well enough. Is the minister usually here this early?”
Fergus cleared his throat. “Reverend Adair is in the back, my laird.”
Lord Thorne came forward with a smile to clasp his hand. “I didn’t expect to find you at the church this time of day. You must be eager for the wedding. Congratulations on marrying the second most beautiful woman at Aldmist Fell. I, of course, married the most beautiful.”
Lord St. Ambrose excused himself to speak with the minister.
“I hope you don’t mind our early arrival,” Thorne said. “Helena insisted we inspect the church to make sure everything is in order.”
Even if Fergus did mind, he had no authority to deny the baron and his guest entry. Lord Thorne was, after all, the master of Aldmist Fell. Fortunately, Fergus had grown to like the man, though he’d been wary when Thorne first started sniffing around Helena’s skirts in London.
Fergus knew a scoundrel when he saw one, but Thorne had proved a pleasant surprise. He was a good husband who loved Helena, which was all Fergus had ever wanted for her.
“Everything is in order. The only thing missing is my bride,” Fergus said.
The baron chuckled. “It shouldn’t be much longer. The ladies assured us all was well before they tossed us from the castle.”
Fergus doubted that was quite how it happened, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Eddi had told him about the marquess’s wish to marry her friend and Lavinia’s stubborn refusal.
Why the lass kept turning him down when she could gain respectability was beyond him. But then, he’d never had much luck understanding a woman’s reasoning; keeping up with Eddi was challenge enough. Lord St. Ambrose could sort out his own affairs.
The marquess returned from the back room. “It is done.”
“Splendid,” Lord Thorne drawled with a hint of sardonic amusement. “The hard part is behind you.”
“Your insincerity warms the heart, Thorne.”
“It’s the least I can offer, given how gracious you were to extend your stay.”
Leaving the men to their good-natured ribbing, Fergus retreated to the back to tend the fire.
He kept it blazing steadily, disregarding Reverend Adair’s muttered complaints each time a fresh log hit the flames.
When the minister finally went to climb the tower stairs, Fergus took his chance to slip out front.
At the first toll of the bell, he stepped outside, unfazed by the biting cold, his only thought to catch the first glimpse of Eddi. Three carriages approached from the west.
In the first, he spotted Eddi, Helena, Miss Gracie, and Lavinia. The second carried his mother, sister, and Mr. and Mrs. Mason. Lastly, a coach rolled up bearing Helena’s sister, Cora, and her young children.
With the Christmas rush past, Cora had felt comfortable enough to leave her husband tending White’s Butcher Shoppe alone. It was just as Helena had wished—all of her sisters under one roof again, even if only for a short while.
As for Fergus’s clan, he’d given orders for everyone to carry on as though today were any other day. Aldmist Fell did not run itself, after all. Besides, if every family member squeezed into the church at once, there’d be no room to move, and his bride might acutely feel the absence of her own kin.
A heavy woolen cape covered all but the bottom ruffle of Eddi’s gown, and a hood concealed her shimmering blonde hair, yet the smile she gave him as he helped her down from the carriage was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
A warm tingle began in his chest, expanding until it filled him whole.
“Let’s get you inside before you freeze, lass,” he murmured, leading her into the cozy church and urging her to sit on a bench just inside the door while footmen assisted the other guests. Just then, Ismay bustled through the front door, offering Eddi a pair of dainty satin slippers.
As their guests filed past to find seats, he knelt before his bride to unlace her boots.
Lifting her skirts just enough, he caught a glimpse of her slender calf before forcing himself to focus on the laces.
Gently, he removed her boot and held her small foot.
It was barely as large as his hand, and he marveled at how delicate she seemed on the outside.
Appearances could be deceiving, however, as he knew her will was forged of iron, strong enough to keep him on his toes for the rest of their lives.
His father always said he would know his mate when he first laid eyes on her. It hadn’t been as immediate as his father described, but Fergus held no doubts now. This woman was his.
She smiled, holding out a slipper. “Are you going to place it on my foot, or should I?”
He grinned and accepted her offering. Once he’d slipped both shoes on and helped her to her feet, she unfastened her cloak, revealing a simple but elegant light yellow gown. The color perfectly matched the slender yellow stripe in the McTaggart plaid sash tied around her waist.
“Turn around, lass. Let me see what ye’ve done with my tartan.”
Her pale brow arched. “Your tartan? You gave it to me, if you’ll remember.” She spun so he could admire the plaid train cascading down the back of her skirts. Glancing over her shoulder, she added, “You said every McTaggart woman has one.”
“Aye, that she does, and do you know why?”
“No.” Eddi faced him again, her eyes wide with wonder. “Why?”
He slid his arm around her waist. The tartan felt soft beneath his palm, and his Eddi even softer. “To let everyone know her McTaggart loves and cherishes her. He’ll protect her with his last breath.”
She reached up to cup his face. “And how does everyone know her McTaggart is loved and cherished in return?”
“He knows, lass.” He covered her hand, relishing the warmth of her palm through her glove. “When she looks at him with those bright blue eyes, he knows.”
A loud clearing of the throat drew his attention. Reverend Adair stood in front of the altar, arms crossed. “Are you marrying the lass today, Fergus McTaggart?”
“Oh, aye.” He held his arm out to Eddi, who looped hers around his. “And for the rest of our lives.”