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“Then let’s get ye married.” Aileen smiled and held out her hand. Davina took it, glad for the support. Aileen led her through the great hall and into the courtyard.
The moment she stepped into the bailey, all eyes turned toward her. Aileen let go of her hand. Davina took a deep breath and walked through the parting crowd. In keeping with Highland tradition, the ceremony would be held outside the chapel. This way all could bear witness to their union and it seemed as though every clan member was in attendance.
Thanks to his height, she could see the top of James’s head as he stood on the chapel’s steps, his back to the open doorway. She straightened her shoulders and held her head proudly as she approached her groom.
Their eyes locked. James stared at her with the love she had dreamed of seeing for the last five years. A soft winter wind blew around her face, but Davina didn’t feel the cold. Her heart was beating rapidly, filled with more joy than she could ever imagine.
James looked magnificent in his wedding finery, his muscles taut under his snug, richly embroidered tunic, the heavy sword gleaming at his side. Bathed in the fading rays of the evening sun, he looked like a Highland warrior of old. A length of McKenna plaid with its bold colors was pinned over his left shoulder. As she drew near, Davina could see the brooch he wore to hold the tartan in place matched hers.
Unable to wait until she reached him, James stepped forward to greet her. “Ye look like an angel come down from the heavens,” he whispered as he took her hand.
“I’ve already agreed to marry ye,” she answered. “There’s no need fer such flowery compliments.”
Her teasing response had the desired effect of calming her nerves—and those of her groom.
“Do ye take these vows of yer own free will?” the priest asked.
“Aye!”
The crowd laughed at James’s eager response. Davina smiled, too, and answered with equal enthusiasm, though not as loudly as her groom.
“Is there any man here who can give just reason why this marriage should not proceed?” the priest asked.
Breath held, Davina watched the priest carefully as the clergyman scanned the crowd gathered around them. She could hear a low rustling behind her and envisioned the crowd turning and glancing at each other, making certain no one would respond.
Tilting her chin, Davina accidentally caught Malcolm’s eye. For a fleeting moment there was an expression of sad longing shadowing his face, but then it vanished like a puff of smoke. He nodded his head regally, mouthing the wordsbe happyto her.
Davina’s mouth twisted in relief. Malcolm’s endorsement was yet another piece of joy adding to this special day. The reconciliation between the brothers was fragile and new. It was her fervent wish that James and his brother would grow closer. ’Twas a relief knowing that her marriage to James would not impede that possibility.
Davina swallowed, inexplicably near tears.
Vows exchanged, they walked into the chapel and knelt to receive the priest’s blessing. Before he gave it, Father Dominic spoke solemnly of the duties between wife and husband. Davina tried to absorb every word, for above all she wanted to be a good wife to James. But her groom was determined to take advantage of her nearness, his fingertips swirling in a sensual pattern over her wrist and palm.
Concentration fled as her flesh prickled with awareness. Her blood raced as an intoxicating heat rolled through her. She felt James squirming beside her and guessed that his desire was also rising. Father Dominic kept talking—lecturing, really—either unaware or untroubled by their actions.
The good priest paused to take a deep breath and James seized the moment. “Are ye finished?” he asked.
“Aye, Sir James,’tis done,” the priest answered as he smiled. “Ye’re married.”
That was all it took. Without warning, James leapt to his feet, pulling Davina with him. His arms encircled her waist and he lifted her against his chest. She barely had time to catch her breath before his lips descended.
It was a seductive caress, a promise of the pleasures they would soon share. He let the kiss linger, far longer than was appropriate, until the shouts and hoots and whistles from the crowd grew longer and louder.
“Mark my words, we’ll be blessed with another grandchild before the year is out,” the McKenna declared.
The crowd cheered. James finally lifted his head. Davina met his bemused gaze and smiled. Her knees felt weak, she was breathless and disheveled. And happier than words could express.
She glanced down at the gold band on her finger, the solid weight a reminder of her vows. Her new life had begun and she could hardly wait to see what happened.
The great hall was near to bursting when all the clan members joined in to partake of the wedding feast. The tables were laden with delicious food and the wine, ale, and whiskey flowed freely.
Toast after toast were made to the good health, happiness, and fertility of the bride and groom. Davina lost count of the number of times goblets were raised, but she smiled with genuine delight at each one.
“I’m sorry the weather prevented us from hosting a tournament or a melee in celebration of yer marriage,” the McKenna said, as he patted Davina’s hand affectionately. “There’s nothing more thrilling than watching a fine group of Highland warriors, some mounted, some on foot, in mock combat.”
Truthfully, Davina couldn’t imagine anything less romantic than seeing men stage a battle, but she was not about to argue with the laird. Only the richest and most prestigious clans held elaborate, expensive weddings, with days of feasting, hunting, and tournaments. That the McKenna even suggested such a thing was a sure sign of the regard he held for her and James, and that warmed Davina’s heart.
“’Tis a fine wedding celebration, fit fer a princess,” she said sincerely. “I could ask fer nothing more. I am honored by all that has been done to make me welcome and am very proud to be part of the clan. Thank ye.” Davina leaned forward and kissed the McKenna’s cheek.
