Enjoying the wedding feast, Janet sat primly as a bride ought, though she held Robert’s hand beneath the table. From the time she entered the chapel, everything had passed in a blur, but the one thing she would remember forever was the magnificent Highlander whose eyes did not stray from hers throughout the entire ceremony. Who knew she would fall in love with a man she’d once considered a rascal and a rogue? A man who’d accused her kin of cattle thievery, and whom she’d suspected of the same? A man who’d fought her brother in a deadly duel of swords?
Gooseflesh rose on her skin as she smiled at her husband.
No, he was none of the things she’d thought before. He was brave and honest and true. He’d ridden to her rescue, not once, but many times. Twice she would have died if it hadn’t been for her hero. He’d cast aside his own preconceptions, his own inbred prejudice, and together they had hewn a bridge out of love.
Robert plucked a wild strawberry from the serving platter and held it to her lips. “For you, mo cridhe.”
The sweet tartness tantalized her tongue. “Heavenly.”
“But not as delicious as you.” He inclined his lips toward her ear. “How much longer must we endure these festivities? I want you to myself.”
Covering her mouth, she almost laughed aloud, which would be most unladylike. “There are two more courses and then dancing. We mustn’t be rude.”
He swilled his wine. “If it pleases my bride, I will wait.”
She winked. “As will I.”
The meal was perfect.
“Will you be taking over the menu planning at Glenmoriston?” asked Emma from across the table, her expression a tad uncertain.
Robert squeezed Janet’s hand, though he didn’t try to answer on her behalf. Honestly, the wedding plans had been all-consuming, and there hadn’t been much time to think beyond this day. Of course Emma would be anxious. Janet smiled. “You are so proficient at it, I do not see any reason to change.”
The lass sighed. “I was hoping you’d be agreeable.”
“Mayhap we can discuss the duties involved in running Moriston Hall on our ride home?” Janet suggested.
“I’d like that.”
Da had hired a proper Highland orchestra with fiddle, pipes, drums, and flute for the dancing, and after the meal they took their places for a country dance.
Lochiel tapped his glass. “Afore the merriment begins, cheers to the bride and groom. May their lives be long, their children be braw and happy, and their coffers always be brimming with coin.”
“Sláinte!” roared the crowd, but none louder than Uncle Broden, seated at the far end of the table.
He stood with his glass aloft. “I, too, toast the happy couple. I’m pleased to report that repairs to the town house are underway, thanks to Grant’s generosity.”
Gaping, Janet focused on her husband’s face. “You are footing the bill?”
“It seemed the right thing to do.”
“That was considerate of you indeed, though Sir Broden’s coffers are quite healthy.”
“Perhaps, but when one is building allies, it never hurts to spend a bit of coin. Besides, the man did write a missive on my behalf. It may have been the weight that tipped the scales in my favor.”
Janet giggled behind her fan. “If that’s the case, then we should build him an entire new town house.”
“Let’s not take things too far.”
The music began. Robert stood and bowed. “May I have this dance, lady wife?”
At the sound of his deep brogue calling her “lady wife” for the first time, Janet could have melted. She placed her palm in his. “You may.”
Across the table Ciar addressed Emma. “And would you do me the honor, miss?” he asked, placing a hand on her forearm.
The lass’s lips formed an O. “Me?”
Rather than bow, which Emma wouldn’t be able to see, Ciar took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Aye, such a bonny gown mustn’t remain hidden beneath the table all night.”
As Robert led Janet to the dance floor, she inclined her head his way. “Has Ciar met your sister before?”
“Aye, he has been to the manse.”
“I thought he might have. He seems to understand how to…”
“Hmm?”
“Well, he understands that for her touching is necessary— Ye ken.” Together they strode to the dance floor. “If she were sighted, he would have bowed and offered his hand, but such a common gesture will not work with her.”
As Robert escorted Janet to the women’s line, he arched his brow at Ciar and Emma. His sister looked as happy as a lass on Christmas morn. “I only hope she doesn’t end up turned around.”
“She will not. I’ve practiced with her, and she’s as sure-footed as anyone I know.” The music demanded Janet curtsy. “Besides, Ciar will keep her on pace. You needn’t be concerned.”
Robert bowed, sashayed toward her, and grasped her hands. “Then I shan’t. This night I have no worries.” They joined elbows and promenaded in a circle, their gazes meeting in a smoldering exchange that made the other dancers fade into oblivion. “This night is ours and ours alone.”