Page 38 of Rekindled (The MacTavish Heirs #5)

In which there is, as always, a Happily Ever After.

Catriona…

Three months later…

There’s a round of cheers from the garden as the Scottish country band starts up again, a rousing tune that has heels thumping against the wooden dance floor.

Lucas and I are sitting in a little alcove in the gardens on the MacTavish ancestral estate. It’s situated at the top of a hill with rolling grounds, a lake, a hedge maze, and the mansion is nearly as large as Balmoral Castle and a wee bit more intimidating.

“This is nice, dinnae ye think?” I whisper.

I feel my husband’s chest shake under me as he chuckles. “I’m thinking it’s not quite the extravaganza the Lady Elspeth had planned, aye?”

I turn my head, resting my cheek against the smooth wool of his Prince Charlie jacket, playing with one of the silver buttons.

Lucas smells wonderful, like crisp cotton and good cologne and always, the scent of pine.

I’m beginning to associate that scent with him chasing me through the woods and railing me like the fate of the world depends on it, so it’s a bit of an aphrodisiac, which can be inconvenient in certain situations.

Such as at our wedding at the MacTavish estate.

“This is true,” I agree, “but it’s more in line with what we would plan, aye?”

There’s less than fifty people in the big white tent in the gardens, just our immediate family, including Lucas’ sisters, husbands, bairns, and their indomitable mother. No business associates, no society types. Just our people.

Like many of my cousins have, I’ll always think of my first wedding as our true one. Dancing in Marabout Badis’ garden, the simple hand-fasting with his ceremonial cord, our wedding night…

Such a wedding night for two people who dinnae know they were actually married.

Maybe that’s why I refused to “upgrade” to a big, shiny monstrosity of a wedding ring, as was suggested by my mother and strongly encouraged by the Lady Elspeth. Where would I wear such a thing? I canna imagine it getting loose in my lab or dropped in some terrible mixture of chemicals .

Marabout Badis graciously made a return appearance to our wedding, though this time, he left the vows to Father Hamilton, a Catholic priest who handles these second weddings with an impressive level of calm, given how strange and unsettling we MacTavishes can be.

He’s animatedly speaking with Badis, both of them using many hand gestures and laughing.

They’re probably commiserating about having to deal with us.

There are some simple flower arrangements on the tables, blush pink roses and fluffy white peonies, my favorite flowers.

Instead of a five-course dinner, there’s a “relaxed” buffet.

Several long tables are groaning under the weight of everything from seafood to haggis and every Scottish delicacy in between.

I knew my grandmother had to make her mark somewhere.

Two months ago, Mairi Stewart, my new mother-in-law, had marched into our wedding planning session in the Lady Elspeth’s drawing room with the same stubborn set to her jaw that Lucas has.

While my grandmother laid out plans for four hundred people and flower arrangements bigger than the average car, we all stayed silent.

Mum and the others - my aunties and cousins - kept their gobs shut because she’d already beaten them down into following her wishes for their grand weddings - though they all admitted to loving them afterwards. I stayed silent because it wasn’t important.

After the horror of seeing Lucas nearly die from the poison that monster created, nothing else mattered. He still has some minor kidney damage, but Dr. MacTavish assured us he’ll recover fully. My husband was alive, what else mattered?

“...So, I believe if we have a procession of sixteen convertible Bentley’s, we can bring the wedding party from the church to-”

“I disagree.”

Every head swiveled to my mother-in-law, seated with her hands folded in her lap like the lady she was, wearing a pretty blue dress that I knew was not from a luxury label, because she found them ridiculous.

Lucas was wealthy now, far more, apparently, than I could have imagined, but his mother was not interested in any upgrades in her lifestyle.

“I beg your pardon?” The Lady Elspeth’s tone should have given Mairi frostbite, but she smiled pleasantly.

“I know that ye have managed a multitude of magnificent events here at the estate, but this-” she waved her hand in the general direction of several Pinterest-style boards set up on easels “-is excessive. Inordinately extravagant.”

Kenna’s hand blindly reached out for mine as a small, terrified squeak slipped past my lips.

“Really.” One word, one bone-chilling word from my grandmother.

“It is, of course, lovely. We Stewarts though, are simpler people. Perhaps a smaller celebration, with immediate family and something less… lavish for flowers and food. And I would like - if Catriona would wish it - to bake the wedding cake.” She smiled at me, “Ye mentioned your fondness for a nice lemon sponge cake with lavender cream?”

“Oh-” My voice cracked and I had to start over. “Mairi made the cake for a family dinner at the cottage, it was so delicious.” I felt something like a spine straighten inside me. “I would be honored if ye would make our wedding cake, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Mairi said warmly. “You will have such a lovely, family occasion. Just like my other children, my girls, had.”

She and grandmother locked eyes across a table covered in fabric swaths, having some kind of Hibernian, maternal mental combat that went on for either a minute or an hour.

We all held our breaths.

The Lady Elspeth opened her mouth, but for what had to be the first time in her life she faced defeat and simply nodded, with a small, wistful look at her swatches and flowers.

Mrs. Stewart’s calm, firm tone won the day.

Though god help the next MacTavish bride, she would be getting twice the business to make up for my salvation, no doubt.

From there, it went from a MacTavish extravaganza to something more like… Lucas and me. I had always loved my mother’s wedding dress, an elegant and simple silk gown with a gauzy overlay. When I asked if I could wear it, she burst into tears.

“Of course! I would love that,” Mum said. “It will be so lovely with your dark hair, the cream color will be more striking, I think.”

"Wonderful! I'd like to have a sash made from a bolt of cloth Lucas bought back in Morocco." His good luck cloth, he told me.

The rack of couture wedding gowns waiting in the corner of the drawing room was tactfully wheeled out.

From there, everyone gingerly offered suggestions for a day with family, but not so lavish.

“But the fireworks…” the Lady Elspeth mourned. To my grandmother’s credit, she took the changes with grace, though I dinnae think she and my mother-in-law will ever be best friends.

Last night…

The final destruction of the shattered, smoking remains of my grandmother’s iron-clad rules comes after I’m sequestered in the Dowager’s House for the night before the wedding. It’s a beautiful, smaller version of the mansion facing it across the enormous garden.

“So, in the olden days, the reigning Lady MacTavish would retire during pregnancies and such to the Dowager House, where she dinnae have to deal with the loud, filthy, irritating men of the house.” Arabella’s reading through some of the old entries into the Dowager House diary.

“Aye, I love my Da, but I’m thinking that our Seanair , our grandfather, was the first barely civilized MacTavish man, and that would be due to the indomitable will of the Lady Elspeth,” Kenna says. “Let’s raise a glass to barely civilized men!”

“Hear, hear!” We all down our champagne.

The girls and I are gathered in the little drawing room downstairs with the French doors open, letting in the cool night air. Lucas’ sisters Emily and Ainsley joined us for a while before excusing themselves.

“I dinnae trust my children to not tie their Da up in a closet,” Emily says ruefully before they took their leave.

“I can tell I'm gonna love Emily, her bairnssound just like mine!” Luna says happily. “Playdates will be fun.”

“Aye, you’ll just need three of Lucas’ security teams to keep them from setting the house on fire,” I laugh.

“What will ye be needing?”

Sloan lets out a startled little shriek, slapping her hand over her mouth just in time.

Lucas, my beautiful Lucas is leaning against the French door, wearing an immaculate suit and a sly grin. And behind him is Raul, Ryan, and an assortment of my male cousins.

“Aside from perhaps Ryan, we dinnae want to spend my stag party at a strip club,” Lucas says. “So, we invited ourselves to your Hen Do.”

“What have ye done?” I wheeze. “Ye canna violate the sanctity of the Dowager House!”

All the men burst into laughter. “Who are ye kidding, cousin?” Logan kisses Arabella. “This house has seen more action than Orgy Night at Uncle Lachlan’s sex club!”

“Oh, my god just stop talking!” I moan. “Dinnae ye understand that if the Lady Elspeth catches ye here, we’re all gonna die! There will be nothing left but our vaporized souls and a patch of soot on the rug!”

“I have it on very good authority that your grandfather, the esteemed Cormac MacTavish the first, has taken his wife to dinner with his sons and their wives.” Lucas pours me another glass of champagne. “The ancestral home is empty and we are here to celebrate.”

“This is so forbidden that it’s kind of turning me on,” I whisper.

“Good, because I intend to defile ye in the bedroom upstairs as soon as these arseholes are distracted enough.” He settles me on his lap and we watch as drinks are poured and tall tales shared.

“Ryan is making his move on Kenna,” I murmur as we watch him give my unimpressed cousin his most winning smile.

“I’m the brains behind Stewart Security,” he says, flashing her a winning smile.

“Really now?” She’s swirling her drink.