WEDDING IN THE FORTRESS
Alina looked at the face in the mirror. She took a deep breath. Long black hair brushed to a curtain of satin by her face, her brow wreathed in orange blossom, the face was pale and ethereal, with deep dark eyes and dark red lips with their classic Gaulish pout.
Is that really me?
She huffed a laugh. It was – of course it was – but it seemed so unlikely! The figure in the mirror gave a slightly nervous grin. She wore a long straight dress of imported silk, its bodice coming to a point and encircled with a kirtle of silver. The skirt flowed out from below the kirtle, its voluminous folds shining like light on water as it fell from her tall, slender form.
“What?” A teasing voice asked from behind her. Alina looked over her shoulder in the mirror to see Amabel, obviously pregnant now, standing behind her. She was grinning.
“I just...” Alina trailed off. She could not find the words.
“You look so beautiful, my beautiful sister,” Amabel said gently. She stroked her shoulder, the satiny cloth changing its play of light as her fingers indented the long tube-sleeve.
Alina swallowed hard. “As do you, dear.”
Amabel laughed. Dressed in a long russet velvet gown, the color of deep claret, bronze lace trimming the skirt, she did look lovely. “I don't think anyone will be looking anywhere but at you,” Amabel smiled.
“Nonsense,” Alina snorted. “I can think of someone.”
Amabel blushed.
They were interrupted by the sound of feet. Chrissie burst in. Dressed in a pale blue gown, her hair arranged on her head in a style that almost managed to tame her curls, she was flushed and smiling.
“I found the bouquet!” she said happily. “We can have hyacinth.”
Alina swallowed hard. They were her favorites – harbingers of springtime, the brightest colors in winter. She turned to Chrissie.
“Thank you, my dear.” Her voice wobbled dangerously.
“Not at all,” Chrissie said, leaning up to kiss her cousin on her porcelain cheek. The cheek beneath Alina's lips was smooth and warm, flushed with exertion. “Heath helped me...he knows where they grow, how to grow them indoors in winter.”
“No, he didn't,” a voice said from the corridor. All three of them turned round abruptly.
“Heath, no!”
“You're not allowed in here!”
The women all chorused it, and Heath, laughing, moved off along the corridor.
A moment later, as the three women made final adjustments to their gowns, Alina frowning as she moved the kirtle to allow the skirt to lie to best advantage, they heard footsteps in the corridor.
“Niece?”
Alina turned. Uncle Brien was waiting in the hallway, an uncertain grin on his face. Dressed in a long green cloak and gray tunic, he looked elegant, his long white hair brushed until it was shining.
“Uncle.”
She gave him a dazzling smile and took his arm and together they walked from the room.
I have often argued with this man, Alina thought, contemplating Brien as they descended the staircase at Dunkeld. However, I am fonder of him than I would ever have imagined.
They walked down the hallway and through the courtyard and out to where the chapel was built. Then they entered. All Alina's thoughts poured together into a focus on the man standing at the front of the small chapel, the light pouring down on him from the roundel above the altar.
Tall, the light striking on his golden brown hair, Duncan wore the forest green cloak of Dunkeld draped from his wide, strong shoulders. He turned and looked at her as the congregation hushed. He smiled.
Alina bit her lip. The love in that smile hit her like a blow, astounding her with its depth and intensity.
She smiled back.
I love you, Duncan MacConnoway. I love you with all my heart.
The ceremony was brief, conducted by the priest resident at Dunkeld. Alina's Latin was polished and Duncan's less so, and he gave her a rueful grin as he stumbled on the phrases. She smiled back and their hands met, sending a spark tingling down her arm.
Then, before either of them could realize it, the ceremony was over. The priest blessed them. They could kiss.
Duncan turned to Alina and slowly lifted the gauzy veil. He leaned towards her.
Their lips met.
The kiss was intense, but chaste at once. A blend of passion, longing, and the purest flame of love that made Alina feel as though her whole body was melting, ignited by the flame of that love.
She looked up into his eyes and he looked into hers.
A world of love and longing shone in his gaze and, hers, looking up at him, reflected it. I know now, Alina thought hazily, as they turned to face the congregation, that stories are not just for children. True love does exist, and you find it in the most unexpected places.
Together, hand in hand, they walked down the aisle, the cheers and congratulations raining down as they, laughing and crying, walked out of the chapel and into the pale sunshine beyond.