Chapter Twenty-Six
The bride was radiant, or tried to be, everyone agreed, even though her face was a ghastly shade of green as she walked up to meet her husband.
The ceremony had already been delayed by her sudden bouts of illness.
Though most of the men thought it must be her nerves, all the women recognised it for what it was.
The groom looked worse for the wear, but so did the bride’s father who escorted her forwards and presented her before the priest. The Matheson laird limped and held his chest during some of the ceremony and he had difficulty leaning over to sign the contracts when they were presented to him.
None of his family was present, save one cousin who stood as his witness. That one seemed to be the only one enjoying himself, for he frequently laughed aloud at the groom’s moans and groans.
The vows were spoken, rings and kisses exchanged and the priest declared them married and husband and wife. Before clapping or cheering could begin, the bride bolted for a bucket and several people found it difficult to keep their own food down at the sound of her retching.
‘Bad food, do you think?’ Duncan, the MacLerie negotiator, asked his wife in a joking tone from where they stood in the back of the church.
Marian slapped him and laughed. ‘I think not,’ she answered, as they all remembered her condition on their wedding day.
‘I did not think he would come for her,’ Rurik said.
‘Did you have to be so harsh to him?’ his wife Margriet asked. ‘And then he faced Connor as well? No wonder he is still limping.’
‘I did not damage any of his important bits,’ Rurik said.
‘Rurik, not here,’ his wife chided.
The group followed the procession back over to the keep where a feast had been prepared.
If this wedding was last minute or rushed, no one complained.
Duncan had little trouble drawing up the marriage contracts and getting both lairds to accept them.
Lilidh brought a handsome dowry to her new husband, along with a renewed bond between their families.
Too late to mend the rift between Connor and his old friend Angus, but soon enough to allow Lilidh and Rob their happiness.
* * *
Some time later, fulfilling their tradition of being last in their hall, Connor and Jocelyn joined them at table where they raised a cup and sent up a cheer for the newly married couple. After a few cups were shared and the hall grew quiet, Connor finally spoke about the past.
‘I was wrong all those years ago,’ he said.
‘Something you do not usually admit,’ Jocelyn said.
‘Something he never admits,’ Duncan added, holding up his cup in a mock salute.
‘The night is late and we should seek our beds,’ Rurik said, beginning to rise from his seat.
‘Not so quickly, Rurik,’ Margriet said. ‘We need to discuss the wager.’
Connor was suspiciously silent, as was Jocelyn.
‘I understand why Connor is not boasting of our victory in this match, the women always thought they would make a good match,’ Duncan explained.
‘Her marriage to Iain was a good one. They seemed happy,’ Connor added, trying not to lose completely.
‘Jocelyn,’ Rurik said, ‘you are strangely quiet about this.’
Duncan watched as the woman he’d brought for his laird long ago blushed. ‘What have you done?’
‘I...cheated!’ she said with a laugh and a guilty glance thrown in her husband’s direction.
The mother of the bride was not supposed to interfere, but apparently Jocelyn had broken that rule and was unrepentant about her violation.
‘What did you do?’ Marian asked. His wife had tried to influence their daughter’s marriage choice, as well. Women, Duncan had discovered long ago, meddled where they were wont to.
‘I sent Rob a note about Connor’s plans,’ she said, looking around the table at them. ‘The boy needed a push.’
‘Tell them,’ Connor growled at her.
‘Twice. I sent two notes. Once before the match with Iain and another when I discovered that Lilidh was...’ She stopped before announcing it officially.
‘Just so,’ Duncan said.
Margriet met their eyes and smiled. ‘So this would appear to be a draw, then—her first marriage was the men’s choice, this second one ours.’
‘I wonder who will be next?’ Connor asked as he rose and took Jocelyn by the hand.
Duncan could see that the strain between his laird and his wife seemed to be easing.
A good thing, for the bond between them affected everyone and everything in Lairig Dubh and the strife between them was too obvious to ignore these last weeks.
‘Well, since my daughter and yours are married now, it would seem only fair if Rurik and Margriet’s was next,’ Duncan said, taking his own wife’s hand and kissing it. Standing, they looked down on Rurik and Margriet, who now looked as though they had both eaten something spoiled.
‘I can only pray not,’ Margriet, the woman raised in a convent, said with panic in her eyes.
‘Isobel is too young yet to be thinking of this,’ Rurik declared as he crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture that warned them not to contradict him. None dared argue with him.
But they all knew she was not. And some of them knew that a certain man was already showing an interest in the lovely Isobel Ruriksdotter, though none was brave enough to say so to Rurik’s face.
‘Be well, friends,’ Duncan called out as he and Marian walked hand in hand to their bedchamber. ‘The morning will come far too soon.’
And that night, like so many nights, happiness filled the halls of Lairig Dubh.