SAM
“Sam.” His voice was low and gravelly, his eyes as bright as burning stars. His lips touched my skin, and a shiver ran down my arm. He locked his gaze with mine, and the way he regarded me made me . . . thirsty.
“Sam, it’s . . . perfect. You look stunning. You’ll have to forgive me, but I am momentarily dazed.”
I let out a laugh, surprised by his formal tone, and that helped ease the tension in my stomach.
“You look very handsome yourself.”
“Thank you,” he replied with a slight nod of his head. He held my hand in his, standing next to me, his eyes taking in every detail of my appearance as we waited for the string quartet to finish playing. The priest, Father Adams, was right behind the altar with a solemn, unreadable expression on his face. Hugh glanced at my veil, looked at my face, and scanned down to the deep V of my dress. He met my eyes again and winked.
“You didn’t just do that, did you?” I teased, leaning toward him.
“Samhain, I’m having a very hard time not having impure thoughts right now, and you’re not helping.”
I scoffed in disbelief.
“Why don’t you tell me how ye could pull this off, instead?” His eyes narrowed on me, eyebrows pulled together, just as the priest asked everyone to take a seat as we were about to start. I pursed my lips together, trying to contain my excitement, and I gave him a nonchalant shrug.
“You’re not the only one capable of grand gestures, Hugh MacLeod.”
The smile that stretched across his face made my breath hitch, and the look he gave me was one I wanted to see for the rest of my life. He was beaming with happiness and pride, and I couldn’t wait to make him as happy as he made me. I couldn’t wait to make him happy for the rest of my days, till death do us part.
“Samhain,” he whispered, looking into my eyes, his mouth less than an inch from my face, “I can’t wait for the priest to declare us husband and wife.”
I smiled playfully, blood rising to my cheeks, unable to resist his relentless flirting. Just then Father Adams cleared his throat, and when we looked his way, he raised his eyebrows at us, silently asking us to behave with that certain look ordained ministers seem to master so well.
“Since this is a rather unusual wedding, I want to make sure both parties are willing to enter into the covenant of Holy Matrimony. I especially want to make sure the groom is in agreement, since this wedding ceremony was a surprise sprung on him by his bride-to-be.” Father Adams smiled, making his words a tad bit sweeter.
Everyone laughed, including Hugh.
“Hugh, are you here to take this woman in Holy Matrimony?”
“I am,” my groom replied with a dashing smile, and butterflies swarmed around in my stomach. He smiled sweetly, lifting my hand so he could kiss it again. Warmth rushed through my chest, all the way up to my cheeks.
I, the blushing bride, couldn’t stop smiling.
Ever since that day in Edinburgh when we couldn’t get our marriage license, I had been waiting for a way to surprise the man I loved. I wanted to show him just how much his dreams mirrored mine.
“Let’s get started,” Father Adams said, bringing me out of my daydream. “I know not everyone here today is familiar with the Catholic rite of marriage, so I will try to keep it as simple as possible.” He then started the ceremony with a prayer.
Next Hugh’s Aunt Flora read the first reading, his brother Ewan read the Psalm, and his mother Fiona read the second reading. She cast a loving look upon the two of us before taking her place at the small pulpit of the church. Hugh and I joined hands, and I heard his sharp intake of breath as his mother took the podium. For someone like me, everything about this was foreign, and there was something mystical and fascinating in all the little details of the ceremony.
As she read from a letter of Saint Paul to the Romans, she often looked toward us. “Welcome one another as Christ welcomed you,” she recited.
Hugh started fidgeting with my hand, which I found adorable.
Emotions were flying high all around us.
Fiona’s voice was tense and full of emotion as she read the passage, but she tried to slow herself to keep her voice steady. She managed well, only wavering toward the end, drying the corners of her eyes when she was done.
She and her son exchanged a smile, and then her eyes were on me, nodding in approval. Fiona had been such a great help planning this wedding; I couldn’t have done it without her.
After the second reading, we had the gospel, and then Father Adam’s homily, which focused on the importance and the sacredness of marriage, on how no one should enter this sacrament without being completely sure of their commitment.
Father Adams looked at Hugh again, as if wanting to give him another way out, which made me want to roll my eyes. As much as I appreciated the priest’s cooperation, his diffidence was rather upsetting. I wasn’t trying to nail the man to a cross, after all. I simply wanted to start our life as a married couple sooner rather than later.
Then, it was finally time to exchange vows.
As much as I’d tried to tell myself to stay calm, my heart had been hammering incessantly in my chest, the sound of it so powerful, it nearly overpowered the priest’s voice. My right hand was still connected to Hugh’s left—he hadn’t let go of it since the ceremony had started. He looked so handsome in his attire, and every time he looked at me and smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way that was so familiar. The corners of his lips curled up and my stomach did a little somersault.
I couldn’t wait to be able to kiss him properly without causing a scandal.
By the time Father Adams started with the vows, my brain could only perceive bits and pieces. I had remained steady for as long as I could, but now I could feel myself crumbling.
“Since it is your intention to enter into the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands and declare your consent before God and his Church,” Father Adams said.
He paused, and then he looked to my groom. “Hugh, repeat after me.”
Hugh nodded, and then the priest started reciting the vows.
“I, Hugh MacLeod, take you, Samhain Farouk, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you for all the days of my life.”
I held my breath as he said the words. There was a severity in his expression, and the tone of his voice was as stoic as I’d often heard it on set. His eyes burned with the same fire I had seen many times before. There was also a certain sweetness in them as he promised to love me and honor me for the rest of his life.
The way he looked at me, the way he sounded as he recited the vows made me waver. I felt tears pool in the corners of my eyes just as Father Adams was calling my name.
I swallowed past the knot in my throat, took a deep breath, and smiled. I tried to make it through my vows slowly, without rushing the words, hoping I could make them sound as beautiful and solemn as he had.
“I, Samhain Farouk, take you, Hugh MacLeod, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you for all the days of my life.”
“May I have the rings, please?”
Rory, guided by Declan, came forth. He handed Father Adams the pillow with the rings, and the priest blessed them with holy water. Father Adams instructed Hugh as to what to say, and he repeated the words right after.
“Sam, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity, in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” His voice wavered, and when I looked into his eyes, I noticed he was trying to rein in his emotions just as I had moments before. He gave me a half-smile, and I responded with the same mix of excitement and nervousness.
He slipped the simple gold band on my finger, and then it was my turn to say the words.
“Hugh, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity, in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
“Lord, bless and consecrate this groom and bride in their love for each other. May these rings be a symbol of their true faith in each other, and always remind them of their love through Christ our Lord. By the powers vested in me by God, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Father Adams hadn’t even finished declaring us Mr. and Mrs. before Hugh’s lips were on mine, taking me a little by surprise. In the midst of everyone cheering and clapping, his hands wrapped around my waist, bringing me closer to him. My hands cradled his face as his kiss transformed into something deeper, more suited for a movie set than a church ceremony. Father Adams cleared his throat and tapped him on the shoulder when Hugh didn’t budge.
“Aye, son. That’s enough. Remember you’re in the house of Jesus Christ.”
Hugh pulled back, giving the priest a quick nod.
“Sorry, Father,” he said in a raspy tone.
He straightened himself up and rewarded me with a wicked gleam and that impenitent grin I loved so much.
It was my turn to hold back.
I very much wanted to kiss him again, but the ceremony was far from over.
There was the communion consecration, the prayer, the communion itself, and the post-communion hymn and prayer.
All that meant that besides holding hands and staring at each other impatiently, there was not much else we could do. For the rest of the ceremony, Hugh tried his best to conceal his restlessness, but I knew him well enough to understand that he was having a hard time containing himself, just as I was. He suddenly had restless leg syndrome and kept fidgeting in his seat.
Toward the end of the ceremony, after the communion rite was over, he leaned toward me.
“Samhain, did I tell you how beautiful you look?”
I nodded, trying to contain a laugh.
“You did.”
“I’m having the hardest time rejecting impure thoughts right now, ye ken.”
“Shhh, I don’t want Father Adams to reprimand us again.”
My eyes scanned his handsome face, his tartan-clad figure, and then fell to his bare knees. He cleared his throat, urging me to bring my eyes back to his. He gave me a long look, eyebrows raised, as if he were trying to communicate something without words. He gave me another panty-melting grin and I blushed, wondering if this time he was being traditional about the kilt.
He nodded, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.
I felt my cheeks heat up even more. Yes, I did feel bad having such thoughts in a place of worship, but I couldn’t help it.
“Ye see, the stylist didn’t give me anything to wear . . . under. It’s a wee . . . cold, I must admit.” The corner of his lips tilted up, and the spark in his eyes made my heart throttle in my chest.
“Oh my gosh, stop it. You are so bad!” I said, pursing my lips to hold back a laugh. He reached for my hand and I swatted it away playfully.
“I thought you might want to know,” he teased, completely shameless.
“So bad,” I repeated, shaking my head.
The rest of the ceremony was pretty much torture, fingers laced together, waiting for the moment when we could kiss again.
After the final blessing, everyone started leaving the church as we signed the register. Arnauld, the photographer of the fake photo shoot, had been taking pictures of us throughout the ceremony.
He guided us and told us what to do as he took a few more pictures with the help of his “assistants,” a mix of photographers and wedding planners.
“Okay, now it’s time for you two to make your way outside,” Fern said as he approached us. “Remember, big smiles! These pictures are going to be everywhere!”
“What’s Fern doing here?” Hugh asked, puzzled. “Why is he wearing the same headset as Sandra?”
“That would be because he is our wedding planner.”
“Fern is our wedding planner? I was jealous of a wedding planner?”
I nodded, adding in a slight eye roll for emphasis.
“That’s right. Besides, he is positively gay. Your jealousy was completely unnecessary.”
“And you’ve been organizing this wedding this whole time? Is that why you two always looked up to no good?”
“That’s right! And we did it right under your nose, MacLeod!”
He wrapped his arms around my waist.
“Now, I wouldn’t get so cocky if I were you, wife.”
“Oh yeah? Why, what are you going to do about it?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see.”