Chapter Twenty-One
Victor and Catriona married late the next
morning in a beautiful ceremony that brought unshed tears to
Veronica’s eyes. The service had been performed in Latin so she’d
understood almost none of it, but merely seeing the love between
Victor and Catriona touched her regardless. She smiled at Lachlan
then looked back to her brother and sister-in-law twice over. Out
of her peripheral vision, she could see Moira dabbing at her eyes
from the seat next to hers. Without looking away from the happy
couple who’d just been declared husband and wife by Father Archer,
she put her hand atop her mother-in-law’s and gently squeezed
it.
“I feel guilty,” Lachlan muttered from her
other side.
“Why?” she whispered back.
“Because I dinna give you a proper
wedding.”
Ahh. She would have teased him, but he
sounded too sensitive about the subject at the moment. “Honestly,
I’m fine with how things worked out.” It was the truth. She knew
how feisty she was, especially when she’d first arrived. “Lord
knows I would have fought you kicking and screaming anyway.”
He half-snorted at that. “In truth, ‘twas my
worry. Whilst such a scene would have made my legend even more
fearsome in gossip, ‘twas not a wanted goal.”
She put her free hand on top of his. “I
don’t like being the center of attention anyway. Catriona was
raised to want all this; I was not.”
“Fair enough.”
She hoped her confession mitigated his
guilt. She hadn’t lied. A frilly wedding had never been on her
bucket list. Hell, any wedding had never been on it. She was
grateful things worked out as they had though. Now that she was
married to the giant of a warlord, she couldn’t imagine her life
without him.
The reception began as soon as the wedding
ended. Villagers packed into the great hall and overflowed into the
courtyard. As Moira had insisted, Veronica was formally introduced
to the enormous crowd who in turn sent up a round of cheers. She
smiled and curtsied, as her sister-in-law had taught her to do.
Nervous from all the attention, she was grateful when Catriona and
Victor became the event’s new focus.
The celebration carried on for hours and was
a lot more fun than Veronica had thought it would be. The food was
excellent and bountiful and the wine and mead flowed freely. The
bagpipes made the mood even more festive. Finn taught her to dance
like a Highlander, which she got down pretty patently, but only
after several attempts. She laughed at her various faux pas
throughout the lessons, which brought smiles to Lachlan’s face.
She liked it when he smiled. It was a rare
occurrence on the menu known as Laird Gunn, but she was determined
to make it a regular entrée. He had a beguiling smile, very
masculine and genuine.
I’m falling in love with him.
The impact of that mental admission hit her
like a punch to the gut. She accidentally tripped over her own
feet, laughing as Finn caught her before she fell. “Dinna hurt
yourself, milady,” he teased. “Lachlan will put me on bedpan duty
do you fall.”
“Oh gross,” Veronica said, grinning. “I’ll
try to stay upright on my feet then.”
She next danced with an elderly man who
lived in the village proper. He taught her a few new moves, which
she enthusiastically learned, grinning at him as they continued for
another two songs. Women from the village clapped and laughed,
enjoying the spectacle they made. Veronica couldn’t blame them for
their amusement. The man was old, but he definitely had
stamina.
Eventually and thankfully, she got the
opportunity to dance with the groom. She knew it was her brother’s
special day, but she couldn’t keep herself from cross-examining
him. What happened at the Campbells? Did he actually believe he
could create a vaccine? Was a cure possible? And so on.
“Sis,” Victor said under his breath, “I
promise I’m trying. I’m basing the technology to create a vaccine
on the AI research of—”
“Yeah, that’s great,” she interrupted, not
wanting details. Besides, he would just name some people she’d
never heard of and then launch into an explanation more confusing
than deciphering ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. He was always good
for that. She loved him to pieces, but Victor had never been good
at reading the room. “Seriously. I’m proud of you.”
Her compliment made him blush. “I just wish
a cure was possible,” he sighed. “If it is, I sure as hell don’t
know how to engineer one.”
A thought struck her. Her eyebrows drew
together. “I’ve seen all your baggage so I know you brought a lot
of supplies back from our world, but even if you create a vaccine
you can’t possibly have enough needles to jab the arm of every
single Campbell and Gunn.”
“You’re right. I don’t have enough.”
“So how will you choose who gets it?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll base it on who
likely had the most exposure.”
“Is there a way to go back to the future?
You know, long enough to get needles and whatever else would
help?”
“Afraid not. The serum I invented is a
one-way ticket to 1155 A.D.”
Veronica frowned thoughtfully. “Too bad
there isn’t a way.”
“I’m glad there isn’t a way.”
“Why?”
“Because I know you. You’d go back
regardless of the risk to your life.”
“Probably,” she admitted.
“Definitely,” he countered. At her
self-deprecating grin, he added, “It wouldn’t be safe anyway. Not
anymore. I told you the future has no future.”
“But it would only be for as long as it took
to gather supplies. I—”
“No way,” Victor interrupted. “They have
evolved too much now. A year ago, hell three months ago, drinking
water that an eater’s liquified flesh had accidentally gotten into
wouldn’t have contaminated you. Now it can.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re right,” Veronica
murmured. “I never considered that. I don’t know why that wasn’t
obvious to me before, but there it is.”
They were silent for a prolonged pause, but
continued to dance. Eventually Veronica broke the silence. “Are you
planning to return to the Campbells soon?” She imagined he was, but
wasn’t certain.
“I’ll have to,” her brother confessed. “I
need to see if the virus is contained or spreading. I also must
know if those who appear to be gaining a natural immunity are still
showing no signs of the sickness returning.”
She prayed their fevers didn’t return. That
would be too reminiscent of how they’d lost their parents. After
mom and daddy’s deaths, the reanimations of the newly deceased had
begun just a few short weeks later. She was grateful their parents
had passed on before the resurrection of the dead commenced.
“I’m going with you,” Veronica warned her
brother. “With weapons.”
“Not without your husband you willna.”
Lachlan’s proclamation startled her. She
hadn’t seen him approach. “You scared me!” She hoped he wouldn’t
make a big to-do over her decision, but was prepared to stand her
ground if he did.
He grunted. “Just promise me you willna don
your hellion attire and try to go without my protection.”
“Victor, go back to Catriona,” Veronica
instructed. After her brother made his awkward exit, she turned to
her husband. “I promise,” she said in hushed tones. “But I am
definitely wearing my hellion attire.”
He snorted at that. “So long as I am with
you, wear what you desire.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, relieved that he
wasn’t trying to strongarm her into staying behind. “I can’t kill
eaters in a gown. And if the Campbells have eaters, I’m definitely
killing them.”
“As am I.”
“But only the eaters, right? We aren’t
killing survivors. It’s important that we keep them alive.”
“Aye,” he grumbled. “No survivors.”
Veronica nodded, satisfied. “When we do go,
I want you to wear your pants—uh, braies?—either under your kilt or
instead of it. Plus your leather battle shirt, whatever that’s
called. Plus leather on your arms and maybe even your head.” At his
raised eyebrows she debriefed him on the conversation she’d had
with Victor about the contaminated flesh. “Anyway, we need to
assume any Campbell who’s turned is contaminated even after death.
It’s best to be covered head to toe and bring a change of
clothes.”
Lachlan blew out a breath. “I pray to the
saints ‘tis not like that. How would we contain the virus if
burning the flesh doesna work?”
She hadn’t considered that. The thought made
her shudder. “Remind me to ask Victor later.” She squinted as she
further reflected on her husband’s question. “If burning the flesh
doesn’t work though, wouldn’t everyone who came into contact with
it be sick? Or at least me?” She frowned. “I think Victor is
missing something. There must have been—I don’t know—another
variable involved.” At his furrowed brow she said, “Never mind.
It’s something we’ll have to talk to Victor about. I’ll let him
bore you to death with an explanation on variables rather than do
it myself.”
Lachlan sighed. “I ken you will be putting
me through yet another of the mon’s speeches?”
Veronica grinned. “He’s your brother now
too. Twice over in fact.”
His demeanor radically shifted as his eyes
grew heavy-lidded. “Last eve was wondrous,” he told her in a soft
growl, changing the subject to one of his liking. “’Twould be a
boon do we repeat it this eve.”
“Oh really?” she jested. “How much of a boon
would it be?”
“Name your price.”
She shook her head. “I was only teasing. I
don’t want or need anything to repeat last night with you. In fact,
I demand it.”
His eyebrow quirked. “You demand it, wife?”
he purred.
“Oh yeah. I demand we do it a lot.”
And that’s just what they did. Three times
to be exact.
*****
‘Twas a full fortnight since Victor and
Catriona’s wedding and still his brother-within-the-law had not
sought out Lachlan aboot returning to the Campbells. Whilst he
kenned the couple was newly married, so too were he and Veronica.
‘Twas no excuse. Not when the stakes were so high. Leaving his wife
alone to practice her Kalari exercises in their bedchamber, he