Page 17 of The Highlander’s Virgin Nun (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #2)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T he sgian-dubh —a traditional black knife—fastened to his shin was cool against his skin. Caelan pulled his white woolen socks over it and checked that both seams were aligned below his knees. He stood tall, twisting his kilt until it sat perfectly in place, the middle of his sporran lining up perfectly with the buttons on his waistcoat. He brushed his long, dark hair back from his face and checked himself once more in the mirror.

This may be a wedding of convenience, but he still intended to look smart for the occasion—to represent his clan well.

“All ready, Me Laird?” Jayden poked his head around the door to Caelan’s bedroom. “Alexandra says that the lasses are almost good to go.”

Caelan took a deep breath and turned to his man-at-arms. “Aye, let’s go.”

As they walked out of the bedroom, down the hallway, the stairs, and finally out of the castle to the chapel, Jayden checked in with him one more time.

“Ye’re still sure about this? Only two guests are attendin’—me and Alexandra. Ye willnae be lettin’ folk down if ye change yer mind.”

“Nay, Jayden, I’m sure. Come on, I havenae got long left to get this done.”

“I ken, Me Laird, but we still dinnae ken her all that well. I think the whole story is strange.”

Caelan shook him off. “I promised meself that I wouldnae get to ken her that well so that we wouldnae develop any feelings for one another. However, despite me promise, I have gotten to ken her. We have told each other about our pasts, and I see her nature. She is a good lass. I will keep our marriage contractual, but she has fine intentions. She isnae a spy or a witch. She is genuine.”

“All right, I’ll trust yer judgment,” Jayden conceded.

But Caelan knew that Jayden had to retain a certain amount of suspicion about everyone. It was his job to be on the lookout for the unexpected and to respond before it became dangerous. He may have been wrong in this instance, but Caelan didn’t want him to discard his suspicions altogether. Someone in his clan was leaking his travel plans, and they still had to find out who it was.

But today was not the day, and Rosaline was not the traitor. He had been working hard to keep any feelings for the girl at bay. But the more he learned about her, the more he grew to like her. Not to mention how beautiful she was—her looks were almost impossible to resist. They had been impossible to resist that night in the cave.

As they reached the chapel, Caelan saw the flowers adorning the door. Alexandra had asked to collect blossoms from the garden and to decorate the chapel, and he had readily agreed.

“It willnae be a huge celebration, Alexandra—just a quiet weddin’,” he had said, but she had already been skipping out to the garden, elated by the opportunity.

She had done a beautiful job, however, and upon entering the chapel, he saw more flowers down the aisle and around the pews. Reds, yellows, and whites adorned the wood, mimicking the colors of the stained glass.

“Ready, Me Laird? It is about time I saw ye in here with a bride,” the priest greeted him. “And yet it also doesnae feel like so long ago that I baptized ye right here by this pew.”

“The time has come, Faither. I have to continue the bloodline.”

“Absolutely,” the priest concurred, bowing his head and readying the sacraments.

“If ye wouldnae mind, Faither,” Caelan thought to add at the last moment. “If we could go light on the religious aspects of the ceremony. Me bride doesnae have the best experience with the holy life.”

The priest nodded and gave him a look that said, Understood . He put away the silver chalices and the holy water and left out only the tartan cloth.

Caelan was still gathering his thoughts and slowing his breathing when the piper began to play outside the chapel, signaling the arrival of the bridal party. He straightened his waistcoat one final time.

His sister walked in first, wearing a pale blue dress adorned for the special day with a ribbon around the waist, and carrying a small bouquet of yellow flowers. She gave him an excited smile and whispered from the end of the aisle, “Ye look very smart, Braither.”

Caelan thanked her and turned back to face the priest, waiting for his bride to make her entrance. He heard her light footsteps slowly coming down the aisle, and once she was only a few steps behind him, he turned around.

Her beauty took his breath away.

From the moment he saw her in rags, disheveled from running through the woods, he had found her beauty astounding. But today, in a simple but elegant, flowing white dress, she was especially radiant. Some of her hair was pinned back with a flower stem, and she perhaps had some rouge on her cheeks. Or maybe she was simply blushing with nerves. Either way, he thought she looked magnificent. For a marriage of convenience, he had chosen exceptionally well.

“Good mornin’,” she whispered to him shyly as she reached the altar.

She handed her bouquet to Alexandra and then turned to face him, offering him her hands as was custom.

“Good mornin’.”

As the priest was about to begin, more footsteps were heard at the entrance to the chapel, and Jayden and Caelan’s heads swung around abruptly, anticipating anything.

But it was only Mrs. Milloy, dressed in her Sunday best, nipping into the chapel to sit in the back. Caelan was a little confused, having invited no one but his friend and his sister. But then he realized that his bride had invited the dressmaker when he saw the smile she gave her and the little wave the dressmaker offered in return.

Caelan thought it was a nice gesture.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here todayto join Laird Caelan Moore of Clan Sinclair and Lady Rosaline Shaw of Clan MacKinnon in holy matrimony.”

Caelan glanced at Rosaline, checking that she did not mind him sharing her name. But as it was the last time she would be addressed by it, he felt it was important to include it.

She looked content to hear it once more, and she gave him a reassuring smile.

“It will be a brief formality today, concludin’ the wedding by religion and by law with a traditional handfasting ceremony.”

The priest took the tartan cloth from the pulpit and wrapped it around the couple’s hands, laying it over their wrists in a criss-cross motion until their hands were entirely bound.

Underneath the cloth, Caelan laced his fingers through Rosaline’s, wanting her to know that she was safe. She squeezed back and smiled with her eyes.

They read the traditional vows, promising to support and stand by one another until death did them part. They said their I do’s , and the priest ran through a few religious lines about their promises to one another and God.

Caelan thought he would never hear those lines read to him, having sat through many weddings and seeing no place for such a relationship in his life. Even now, in a wedding orchestrated for the good of his people, he was surprised to hear the priest pronounce him a husband.

Their hands were unwrapped, and when he was instructed to kiss his bride, Caelan knew this was a part of the ceremony that he could easily take in his stride.

He wrapped an arm around Rosaline’s waist, his other cradled the back of her neck, and he dipped her and kissed her deeply on the lips, feeling peals of laughter bubble up her body and the corners of her lips curl into a smile.

The crowd of four cheered, and he pulled his bride back up.

“That was the hard part,” Caelan whispered to her. “Now it’s time for the party.”

The pipes blared again, and the bride and groom headed down the aisle hand in hand, with their guests following behind. As they emerged from the chapel, Caelan turned to his bride once more while the others headed towards the castle for the celebrations.

“I hope that wasnae too painful. I told him to hold back on the religious stuff.”

Rosaline smiled sincerely and took both of his hands. “It was absolutely fine. Thank ye.”

“For the rest of the day, ye only need to eat and drink and watch the celebrations. Michaela might whisk ye up for a dance and a song, but other than that, yer part is fulfilled for the day. Thank ye again, Rosaline.”

“Are there goin’ to be dancers?” she asked, waving off his thanks.

“Ye’ll just have to wait and see,” he teased, and they hurried off to the castle.

* * *

A great meal was laid out by the servants, with food plentiful for more than twice the attendants. Family and friends of Caelan’s from nearby villages came to see the beautiful bride and celebrate with them, while folk from the Sinclair village enjoyed a day at the castle, welcomed as always.

Caelan watched Rosaline be praised all day long for her beauty and her grace. She continued to shine the entire time even under so much attention.

“Ye are doin’ well. A laird’s wife in the makin’ already, I see,” he said, finally snatching a moment with her.

“Everyone has been very kind and sweet.”

“Did ye eat enough?”

“Just managed a plate in between all the madness, aye.”

“Ah, the happy couple,” a voice boomed as it entered the hall, striding straight towards the newlyweds.

Caelan’s uncle, Harrison, swaggered through the gleeful crowd, his arms open wide and his voice loud, ensuring his presence was noticed. Many of the clansfolk, used to his large ego, simply gave him nods and returned to their chatter and dancing.

“Uncle Harrison,” Caelan greeted, rising from his chair.

He placed a gentle hand on Rosaline’s shoulder, instructing her not to rise. It was not necessary, despite the close relation, as his uncle did not involve himself in clan matters enough to be worthy of his surname.

“I didnae ken that the weddin’ was today,” Harrison said through gritted teeth, his lips curled upward in a crooked smile.

“I mentioned it to ye when I saw ye on the way to town a few days ago. Ye werenae around afterward for me to deliver a formal invitation to the celebrations.”

“Ah, what a shame, eh?”

“But ye are here now,” Caelan continued, injecting some joy into his voice when he could manage it. “Grab a plate; there is plenty to go around. Ye might even fancy a dance.”

“I certainly shall,” Harrison drawled. He bent over the table, peering into chalices until he found one half full of red wine. When he saw that its owner was deep in conversation, he picked it up and downed its contents. “Would be rude nae to, eh?”

Caelan’s lips curled into a smile, but it did not reach his eyes.

“I am just glad ye finally found a wife, lad,” Harrison added. “Time was fair passin’ ye by. I suppose ye’ll be chompin’ at the bit to get an heir now.”

“Today is about the wedding, Uncle Harrison. The future of the clan is always on me mind.”

Harrison scrunched up his nose and looked around for another glass.

“Aye, it certainly is and always has been, has it nae?” He sniggered. “Well, I’d hurry if I were ye, what with all these assassins after ye.”

Caelan wanted to end the conversation. It was not the time to discuss any of these matters, but this was the way his uncle had always behaved. He knew it was best to deter him by agreeing.

“Ye’re absolutely right, Uncle. Och, some fresh lamb is bein’ brought out right now; why dinnae ye go fill a plate and feast?”

Harrison grunted, as if he were about to argue, when fresh jugs of ale and wine were brought out and set down beside the lamb. Distraction enough, it seemed, as he stumbled away, grumbling to himself.

“I am sorry about that,” Caelan said to Rosaline out of the corner of his mouth. “As I said, he’s always been… difficult. Best to placate him.”

“That’s quite all right,” Rosaline sighed, giving him a smile to show him that it truly was all right.

“Good. Well, I believe yer favorite part is on its way.”

Rosaline looked at him with surprise and then glee. “The dancers?”

As if on cue, the hollow opening note of the pipes rang out. Drums were checked and tightened, thumping to build anticipation and gather attention. And then the girls in their kilts and socks crowded into the center of the Great Hall, facing the newlyweds—their prized audience.

“Oh, Caelan,” Rosaline breathed as the performers struck up their opening beat.

Her face glowed throughout the entire show, and she clapped to the beat along with the entire hall. It was as if the music filled every crevice of the castle, and everyone was carried along with it.

At the end of the first song, the dancers invited everyone up for a dance with them.

Caelan stood up quickly, knowing many others would seek their chance with his blushing bride. He offered his hand first. “May I?”

“I think ye’re owed the honor,” Rosaline replied.

But it was she who led them to the dance floor, her excitement taking over.

As everyone gathered into pairs, Caelan held Rosaline’s right hand and lifted her elbow high. He rested his left hand on her lower back, tucking her hair at the final moment so she had a full range of motion. The beat began, and he spun her around the hall, the whole procession moving clockwise to the beat of the drum and the blare of the pipes.

She laughed, throwing her head back and pushing her torso closer to his for balance. He pulled her close and used his strength to twirl her around so that her hair fluttered behind her.

They whirled around the hall in time to the music until they were both dizzy and tired. As the song ended, they slowed to a stop, and Rosaline rested her head against Caelan’s chest, still giggling.

“That was fun,” she breathed. “Who kenned that whirlin’ around a room could be so delightful?”

“Dancin’ has existed forever for a reason, wife.”

The music changed to a slower folk tune, and many couples remained on the dance floor, swaying and leaning on each other after the energetic jig. Caelan began to rock them from side to side, his hand clasping Rosaline’s and resting on his chest, letting them slow their heartbeats together.

“This has been an exhaustin’ day,” Rosaline said, “but a good one.”

Caelan smiled, glad that she had at least enjoyed herself. The wedding had hardly been a choice for her, stuck as she was when he found her in the woods and made her a deal.

He leaned down to her ear. “I hope ye’ve got a little energy left,” he whispered, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Although ye willnae be the one doin’ the work.”