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“For all of us, I fear,” Fiona concurred. “Except perhaps Laird Sinclair, but I think that’s only because he drank so much of your fine whiskey.”
It took but three long strides to get close enough to gather Fiona in his embrace. Taking her chin, Gavin angled it so she had to look directly at him. She smiled and he felt a pang deep in his heart. There was no feeling on earth that could compare to having her in his arms. Though he vowed never to lose her again, it had not been an easy feat, and knowing he had achieved that goal made him feel almost invincible.
Gavin pressed a soft kiss on her lips. He felt her hands clutching his shoulders to hold him near. The heat rose quickly between them, the restless hunger yearning to be satisfied that increased to a shimmering ache.
Gavin knew he could take her now, right here on the table, rough, hard, and urgent. She would not deny him. Hell, she’d probably be the one to suggest it. But she deserved more—and so did he. A warm bath, a soft mattress, and all the time they needed to explore each other’s bodies, to relearn what gave them gentle pleasure and what drove them wild.
Reluctantly, Gavin pulled back, trailing a soft line of kisses up Fiona’s neck to her cheek. “Were ye really going to journey to the shrine of the Virgin Mother?” he asked.
“Yes, and from there I planned to continue to the convent at St. Ives.”
“To join their ranks?”
Fiona laughed. “To seek asylum. Though I cannot fathom why you are looking so shocked. Do you not think I would make a good bride of Christ, my lord?”
“I know you would make a terrible nun, milady,” Gavin declared, kissing her hard and fast. “And for that, I am truly thankful.”
Chapter 20
Gavin faced the church doors and listened closely as Father Niall recited the vows he was to repeat. Fiona, dressed in her elegant wedding finery, stood beside him, her expression solemn but for her eyes, which glowed with joy. Gavin could not stop looking at her.
“My lord?” Father Niall cleared his throat. “Do you need me to recite the words again?”
“Nay.” Gavin drew a ragged breath. He knew what to say. This was, after all, his third marriage. But it felt completely different this time. There was an aura of hope radiating from deep inside him, mingled with amazement at his good fortune. He was binding himself to the woman he loved beyond measure, was willingly, nayeagerly, pledging his body and soul to her as long as they both drew breath.
The emotions coursing through his blood gave greater meaning to his vows. This was a fresh start, a new hope, the beginning of a life that offered endless possibilities.
Gavin’s voice was strong, powerful, as he spoke, ringing throughout the courtyard. He wanted each and every one of his clansmen to know how committed he was to this union, how determined he was to cleave to his new bride.
When it was Fiona’s turn to speak, she first lifted her hand and placed it on his chest, directly over his beating heart. Her voice trembled with emotion, but she never faltered.
Gavin tilted his head, fascinated at seeing the glow of his happiness reflected in her sparkling eyes. He longed to bend down and taste the sweetness of her lips, to kiss her senseless, but that would have to wait.
As was the custom, the first part of the ceremony had taken place outside, in front of the chapel doors. When the vows were done, all that remained was for the bride and groom to enter the chapel and kneel at the altar for the final blessing.
They did not, however, have the chance to enter the church, as there was a sudden commotion at the castle gates. They could hear men shouting and swearing, followed by the distinct sound of approaching horses.
“Make way for the king!” someone yelled.
Gavin met Fiona’s gaze and he watched the color drain from her face. He pulled her in a tight embrace.
“What will he do?” Fiona whispered fearfully, as the king rode into the bailey.
“Hush now, all will be well,” Gavin insisted, sweeping a stray piece of hair from her face with the back of his hand and tucking it under her veil.
Fiona gave him a look of such confidence and trust his chest tightened. The crowd parted seamlessly, and Robert rode boldly through the mob until he was positioned directly in front of Gavin and Fiona.
Gavin’s arms fell from around Fiona’s waist and he stepped away. Duncan, Aidan, and Connor instantly moved in, surrounding him. Though dressed more formally in honor of the occasion, each still wore a sword. Gavin noted all three men already had their hands on the hilts of their weapons.
Gavin stepped forward. Without breaking formation, the trio moved with him—one man on either side with the third guarding his back.
“Nay,” Gavin ordered. “Stay here and protect my lady wife.”
The king’s great warhorse pranced nervously, agitated at being in close quarters with such a large crowd. Looking every inch a royal presence, Robert controlled his mount with graceful skill, a true warrior king.
“Lord Kirkland, I am most displeased to discover that my invitation to this important event has been waylaid.”
Gavin looked up at the man seated so regally on horseback and met the angry gaze of his king. Resisting the answering anger that flared inside his own chest, Gavin instead assumed a casual, confident demeanor. King or no, this was the happiest day of his life and he wasn’t about to let anyone ruin it.
