Janet stood in front of the dressing table in her bedchamber while tingles of anticipation made her feel as if she were in the midst of a dream.
“I believe you are the bonniest bride I have ever seen.” Lady Jean, Janet’s stepmother, primped the veil, her eyes moist.
Over the past few weeks, the woman had become more motherly as the wedding plans brought them closer. Perhaps she’d needed something like this to feel more a part of the family. Whatever the reason, Janet was grateful. “Thank you for all you’ve done to prepare for this day. I ken it will be perfect.” But more than anything, Janet was grateful for the lass sitting on the overstuffed chair with an enormous grin on her face. “Emma, you look so bonny, I think you are prettier than the bride.”
“Och,” Her Ladyship began to protest, but Janet held up a finger and shook her head.
“And there will be a grand ceilidh this eve.”
Clapping her hands, Emma stood. “Do you believe anyone aside from my brother will dance with me?”
“I ken it.”
“Will they fear me?”
Janet grasped the lassie’s hands and squeezed. “If they do, then they can go take a flying leap off the battlements.”
“Janet!” Her Ladyship scolded.
Rolling her eyes, she huffed. “Well then, curses to the superstitious. I will stand for none of it.”
“I thank you both for inviting me to Achnacarry. But I want to see you, lass.” Emma raised her hands.
“Very well.” Janet stood still while her future sister-in-law started at her veil and lightly swirled her fingers over Janet’s eyes, nose, and lips and then along the collar of her wedding gown.
Lady Jean stepped in. “I think you should—”
“She ought to continue,” Janet interrupted, guiding Emma’s fingers to the neckline of her bodice. “The gown is of silk and trimmed with lace and pearls.”
Emma whistled when her fingers brushed across the fine fabric. “’Tis exquisite.”
Lena pushed through the servants’ door. “The chapel is full, and there are people standing, and I think if you do not haste to the altar Grant will combust.”
Her Ladyship chuckled. “We mustn’t have that. Grooms are hard to come by in the Highlands.” She primped the wedding gown one last time. “I do believe all is in order.”
“And the bairn?” Her new brother had already won Janet’s heart.
“The nurse already has him dressed and in the chapel.”
“Then all is truly in order.” Janet collected her hem, then took Emma’s elbow. “Let us walk side by side. Then, once we reach the chapel, Ciar MacDougal will escort you down the aisle and you’ll stand beside me whilst Robert and I take our vows.”
Emma sighed, and her smile grew radiant. “I still cannot believe you chose me as your maid of honor.”
Janet kissed her dear almost-sister on the cheek. “I would have none other.”
Funny; with Emma beside her, Janet felt no prewedding jitters. She was ready. Happiness filled her wholly, as if the ground beneath her feet were but clouds.
* * *
Pacing the vestibule of the Cameron family chapel, Robert clicked open his pocket watch and stared at the blasted thing, willing it to tick faster.
Kennan leaned over. “Has the bloody timepiece stopped working? By the way you keep pulling it out, I reckon ’tis on the verge of busting a spring.”
Robert stuffed the damnable thing back in his waistcoat pocket. “You sound like my henchman.”
Ciar gave him a slap on the back. “I cannot say I blame you. It must be exasperating to stand before God and pledge undying love to a single woman for the rest of your days.”
“I agree there,” said Kennan.
“I reckon that’s on account of neither of you sops ever being in love afore.”
“I’ve been in love plenty,” said Ciar, thumping his chest. “’Tis just I fall out of love nearly as fast.”
“God save the woman you marry.”
“I’m with him.” Kennan threw a thumb Ciar’s way. “It is as easy to fall out of love as it is into. Mayhap easier once you’ve met the lassie’s kin.”
Robert swiped a hand across his eyes. If the bride didn’t make an appearance soon, he just might grab the cleric, make an insane dash across the grounds, barrel up the stairs, open every door until he found Janet, and marry her on the spot. To hell with the guests and his wayward groomsmen.
“Aye,” Ciar continued. “It was not all that long ago you were a wandering buck yourself.”
“Wheesht,” Robert shushed them. True, he might have been a bit of a rogue, but that was before he fell in love with Janet. Since, he’d lived like a monk for the better part of a year. He’d be loyal to her until the end. He couldn’t even think of looking at another woman—not ever again.
The door opened, thank God. Sucking in a sharp breath, Robert faced it. Lady Jean stepped inside with Emma on her arm. “Merciful Father,” he mumbled, barely recognizing his sister. Not only was she dressed like a princess, she could be an angel, her face brighter than he’d ever seen it. “What have they done with my wee lassie?”
“She’s no wee lass anymore,” said Kennan, the rake.
“Do I look as bonny as they say, Robert?” Emma asked. “Tell me true, for I do not believe it.”
Before he could answer, Ciar stepped in and took her arm. “Och, believe it, Miss Emma. You’re so radiant this day, only a bride can compare. Are you ready?”
“I am.”
A footman escorted Her Ladyship down the aisle and, on cue, the bagpipes began a march. Ciar took Emma next, which made Robert’s hackles rise a bit. After all, he was solely responsible for his sister and would tolerate no foolishness where she was concerned. Kennan followed, taking the arm of one of Janet’s cousins, and then Robert proceeded forward, his kilt slapping the backs of his knees as he proudly took his place beside the priest and waited for his bride to make her grand entry.
The music slowed and grew statelier. Both doors to the chapel opened. Sir Ewen stepped forward with his daughter on his arm. Initially Robert saw only snippets of a blue gown and gossamer veil from behind the imposing form of her father. But when they turned to walk along the aisle, his knees turned to boneless mollusks.
The music faded.
The guests vanished.
Even Sir Ewen paled and blurred.
Robert somehow managed to breathe. His mind consumed with the beauty moving toward him, he could do little else but gaze upon his heart’s desire. Happiness radiated from her smile. Her eyes shone like sapphires. Smooth skin, a slight blush to her cheeks, blonde curls peeking from beneath a sheer veil.
I cannot believe I am so lucky as to be marrying this woman.
As father and daughter stopped beside him, Robert clutched his hands behind his back to keep from taking her away from Lochiel before the priest asked, “Who gives this woman in holy matrimony?”
“I do,” said Sir Ewen, making Robert’s heart soar. The fierce chieftain of Lochiel uttered two wee words without argument, without bravado. And those two words opened the door for happily ever after.
Chanted in Latin, the Catholic service continued. While Robert held Janet’s hands, he gazed into the bonniest eyes he’d ever seen. While they stood together before God and their kin, Robert knew this was the most righteous, most holy, most honorable act of all his days.
At the end of the rite, he slid his mother’s sapphire ring onto Janet’s finger—the ring he’d retrieved when he’d ridden to Glenmoriston to fetch Emma. “To match your eyes, my love.” And then he kissed her. Right there before a clan he’d never thought could be an ally, he kissed the woman who was now and would always be his wife.