Page 43 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)
“You’re outsiders,” he countered, as she separated from him. “’Tis no rules the clan holds that apply to you. You and I neednae marry, for ’tisnae what you wish. As long as you’ll be my lady, I’ll be happy.”
She smiled at him. “It’s okay. I’ve changed my mind. Let’s have a wedding.”
Farlan’s jaw dropped in a purely comical show of astonishment. “Say that again, my lady.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I love you, and I would like to marry you.” As he reached for her, she took a step back. “If there’s ever a way we can get out of this place and have children someday, I’d like that, too. If we can’t have any the usual way, we could adopt them.”
He grabbed her and kissed her until she clutched his shoulders and whimpered. Then he lifted her off her feet and twirled her around in a slow circle.
“My lady. My wife. My lady wife.” Farlan sounded as if she’d given him the best birthday present ever.
“Would you mind if we didn’t get married just yet?” As he frowned and put her down she added quickly, “I don’t want to celebrate my wedding anniversary in summer. I think a winter wedding would be nice.”
“If we lived in the world beyond, I would oblige you, my sunshine.” His expression grew serious. “Only the winter here brings the last of the time cycle to Dun Talamh. The castle, ’twill be sieged, and many shall die. You wouldnae wish to wed me between attacks on the stronghold.”
“Is there any time in this place that nothing happens?” Grace asked, a little exasperated now.
Farlan thought for a moment. “Lùnastal, ’tis the celebration of the harvest. ’Tis at the end of summer, and the ritual of wedding for a year, ’twas the custom practiced by the Hibernians.”
She linked her hands behind his neck. “Lùnastal it is, then. I want to make my own wedding dress. Yes, I can sew. I learned to backstage while I was being fitted for runway shows. Sometimes the dressers needed help.”
“I would return you to the modern world, if I could,” Farlan said, stroking his hand over her hair. “Mayhap someday we shall defeat Bodach, and free you.”
“I’ll never be free of you. If you go back to the twelfth century, so do I. Your mother said I should.” The way he frowned made her recall she hadn’t told him anything about that. “After I was burned, I dreamed of her at that cottage where we first met. She gave me a message for you, too.”
“She couldnae, my lady. That world, ’tis gone.” Doubt still flickered through his eyes. “What did she tell you in the dream?”
“Myna said she wanted you to know that you are a wonderful son and brother, and you made her and your family so happy and proud. She knows you miss them, and you’re lonely, but there is a purpose to all of what’s happened to you.
She and Arran and your sisters believe that the Gods will someday be merciful and bring you back to them.
” As he flinched Grace slid her hands to his and held them tightly. “What is it? ”
“Never did I tell you my lady màthair’s name,” Farlan said. “Nor that of her mortal husband.”
Grace smiled. “I think that’s proof enough that I met her.
If you’re not able to return to your time, then she promised that they will think of you and love you every day for the rest of their lives—and someday she hoped you’ll all be reunited in the well of stars.
Also, she wants you to stop hating your brothers, because it’s not their fault you’re here. ”
By the time she finished repeating what his mother had said, tears had spilled down his cheeks.
“Please don’t cry,” Grace said. “That will make me cry too, and you don’t have any tissues here. How will I blow my nose?”
He extended one arm. “My sleeves, they’re yours.”
“Spoken like a true caveman.” She slid her arms around his waist. “I love how practical you are. How generous and kind. I’ve never known a man like you, Seneschal. Mostly I love you so much there aren’t words.”
“I think you must prove this to me another way, Mistress Johansen.” Farlan drew her inside the tower, where he swung her up into his arms and carried her downstairs. “I’ve a chamber readied and waiting for us.”
Grace assumed he meant his work room outside the kitchens, but instead he carried her to the very back corridors of the stronghold. “Where are you taking me?”
“Wait and see.” He strode along two more halls before stopping in front of a wide oak door, which he nudged open with his boot.
At first all Grace saw were hundreds of candles casting their warm light on a table filled with enough food to feed half the clan. The scent of fresh-baked bread, pear compote and something like honeyed brandy made her stomach growl, for she now realized she hadn’t eaten for quite some time.
“Did you do all this just for me?” she asked, dazzled.
“With Doon’s help, and that of a lad I helped, aye, mo ghrian, ” he said, leading her over to the table. “Cook said if you dinnae eat well I’m to feed you.”
“Feed me anyway,” Grace said, chuckling.
He sat beside her on the trestle table’s bench seat, and filled a plate with something from every platter before taking each delicious tidbit one by one and holding it to her lips with his gloved hands.
At first being catered to so thoroughly seemed awkward to Grace, but as he fed her he talked about the great feasts his mother Myna had prepared for her husband Arran and his apprentices when they came home from a build.
“She’d work outdoors at the oven for days and days,” Farlan told her, his affection for his mother obvious in the way his voice softened and his eyes glowed.
“All manner of pies and cakes and breads she prepared, for Arran and his lads, they could eat their weight in good baking. Then she’d prepare her special chicken in a sauce of four colors.
’Twas so rich with spices and cream the villagers would walk past our cottage just to breathe in the scent. ”
“How do you keep making me hungry after feeding me so much?” As he reached for an oatcake covered with glazed apricots, she grabbed it first and held it to his lips. “Try this for me first.”
Farlan took a bite. “’Tis something Ben made for us from that Gods-cursed brandy he favors.” He leaned closer to her. “Taste me and see if you like the stuff.”
Grace kissed him, and sighed with delight as the heady brandy mixed with his cinnamon apple scent, intoxicating her. “I love it. I love you.”
He pulled off his gloves as he cradled her face with his hands, and then picked her up and carried her over to the big bed. Placing her carefully on the coverlet, he then went around touching the wooden frame of the bed, which had dozens of twigs wrapped around it.
“What are you doing?” Grace asked, and then saw the first of the twigs grow longer and burst into leaves. “Farlan, are you doing that?”
“’Tis my only magic,” he said as he finished stroking all the twigs, which turned green and leafy. Some sprouted flowers, and others produced clusters of nuts and berries. Then the frame of the bed changed color and put forth branches of oak leaves and acorns. “But ’tis all for you, my lady.”
As he stretched out beside her in their miniature forest, Grace laughed with delight. “I love you, Seneschal.”
“And I love you, my sunshine.” He leaned over her, adoration in his eyes. “Always.”
THE END