The small chapel inside the keep barely fit the MacGille’s immediate family, but as word spread that Lucas, the Laird, would be marrying the English woman who saved his life and brought him home, the small stone walls and yard that surrounded it was filled to near bursting.

Magnus came bursting into the chapel, alone and Lucas sucked in a deep breath. He would’ve been lying to himself if he said he wasn’t worried the lass would still change her mind. The light of day could make decisions made the night before seem foolish, or rushed. It was true they had a special connection, a bond he had never felt with another living person. But her past and the demons that followed her could still win out. The faster they were married, the better he would feel.

“Where is Ella?” Lucas asked, doing his best to keep his tone from sounding panicked. “Did ye nae find her in her chamber?”

Magnus smiled at his nervous Laird, but before he could answer, Lucas’s attention was drawn away from everything except the exquisite creature who stood at the door to the kirk. Ella was breathtaking. He had never noticed the midnight blue that ringed her grey irises, made ever more vibrant by the light blue and grey of the dress she wore. He beamed, all of his worry of her not having a proper dress to wed in was for naught. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. The simplicity of the Scottish flowers in her hair made Lucas yearn to drag her into his arms and take her to the grassy meadow that hugged the loch and kiss her breathless. She was his, and her choice of modest adornment, proved she was exactly what he wanted, nay, needed. As she walked toward him, the crowd’s hushed murmurs grew loud and excited.

“Och!” Magnus said loudly, trying to calm and quiet the clan in the pews. Lucas shot him a look as if to say, not yet. He wanted a quiet moment to compliment his bride before the ceremony began. She took her place at his side, with his sister and Kelly standing behind her. Lucas took in a scent of fresh roses, and could barely keep control of his desire.

“Ye look gorgeous, lass,” he said, heat in his gaze. The scent of fresh roses wafted off her, and he felt himself harden beneath his kilt. His English rose, and she was about to be his forever. He hadn’t expected his reaction to marriage would be this strong. In fact, he had always thought he would die on a battle field, or not marry at all. But standing before Ella, with everyone he loved watching him declare himself to her before God and clan, he couldn’t imagine any other woman he would want to give himself to or take as his own in return.

“So do you,” she replied, giving him a nervous smile. Ella knew what was coming. He trusted Magnus and Father Johns to handle it correctly, and it was better to get it over with now before the crowd became unruly. His mother came out from behind the pulpit where she had been in confession with Father Johns, and embraced him as the priest took his place behind the pulpit.

“Yer da would’ve been proud of yer choice son,” Lady Catharine said. Lucas fought back his own emotions and kissed her lightly, wiping away a solitary tear that ran down her cheek. Lady Catharine then moved to embrace Ella tightly. Lucas watched as the women regarded each other with solemn grace. They had only met the night before, but Lucas saw a deep respect between the two that made his heart constrict.

“Yer a good lass. I’m proud tae call ye daughter,” she said. A murmur of approval ran through the crowd. They had seen Lady MacGille embrace Ella and that seemed to be all they needed to accept her as one of their own. Even over the approval of Lucas, their Laird.

“We are tae have a weddin’— our Laird will be takin’ a bride in Miss Ella Pearson, the verra lass who kept him alive and brought ‘im back tae us!” Magnus bellowed out. A thunderous cheer erupted in the room as Lucas grabbed Ella’s hands and placed a kiss in each palm. And Lucas laughed as Father Johns flinched. He doubted the old man had ever seen such a ruckus for a wedding.

The ceremony was fast, much quicker than Ella thought a Catholic priest would deliver, but she was pleased. Sitting in the main hall, the subsequent feast was moving fast, a blur to Ella. Lucas was being the perfect gentleman, and picture of a well-loved laird. Stopping to accept felicitations from every person who wished to give them. Ella had smiled and thanked so much her cheeks were throbbing, but she was enjoying herself.

He complimented on her many times on her appearance and the dress. She was so pleased that Milly had found the lavender and flowers for her hair, she would look back on this day and know no matter what occurred she was true to herself and her feelings for Lucas. He still hadn’t spoken of love, and while it stung, she knew many successful marriages survived on less than what she and Lucas already had together and for that they were lucky. They were an agreeable pair, and she knew Lucas genuinely liked her and wanted to keep her safe. That would have to be enough. She was resigned that her feelings for him would have to be enough to carry them through a successful union.

When she’d first arrived at the chapel door and saw him standing at the pulpit waiting for her, his face didn’t betray any emotion. The whole clan appeared to have turned out to see the laird wed and English girl, and it took every ounce of bravery left in her soul not to flee. Were it not for Lucas’s steady reassuring gaze she was sure she wouldn’t have been able to stand up in front of so many people and agree to be he wife.

Now that it was over and she was seated next to him in the great hall, she was still in a bit of shock. He spoke with each and every person who sought his attention, but not once did he let go of her hand. Even while they enjoyed the abundant feast Mrs. Thomas and her maids prepared, Lucas kept one hand on Ella, as if he were afraid to let go. She understood, he was her anchor, as well.

“Lass, does it feel different?” he leaned in and asked her toward the end of the long meal.

“Being married?”

“Aye, being married.”

“I’m not sure,” she replied, and she meant it. Everything happened so quickly she had scarce time to breath, let alone take stock of anything that felt differently. “Do you feel different?”

“I’m not sure. I feel like ye are more safe now, and that brings me peace. I love that my clan accepts ye as one of their own, so readily. Maybe, to really feel different we should head tae bed?” he asked, winking, mischief lighting the green of his eyes with mirth. She closed her eyes wanting to commit the look of happiness on his face to memory.

Ella thought he sounded nervous, but she laughed at his bawdy humor. He shouldn’t be nervous. She had already given him her maidenhead, freely, and he had already taken her body to heights of pleasure she had never known possible. Unless there was something about the marital bed, she didn’t know, she couldn’t for the life of her think as to why Lucas would be nervous. He knew she desired him above all others. At least she suspected he knew. Hoped he knew. If anything, it was she who should be nervous.

She opened her eyes to find Lucas still staring at her, the mirth in his eyes had been replaced with something else, something darker. Lust. She felt a pleasing coil tense in her stomach, and moisture developed where her legs met. The sweet smell of whisky on his breath made her slightly dizzy. She suddenly wanted very badly for Lucas to take her to bed, as her husband. She was now a Laird’s wife. An English woman, married to a Highland leader. She had so much to learn, and she wanted to start her education right away.

“Maybe you should… take me to bed, I mean…” Ella bit her lower lip, she had never been so brazen. But he was hers now and she felt an overwhelming need to let him know it. Likely the ale is going to my head, she thought. Still holding onto his hand she ran her thumb in a circle inside his palm. Delighting in the way his breathing changed with her touch. The callouses of his hands making a road map for her to follow of the battles he had fought in and the hours he spent preparing for more.

He was staring at her with clear intent now. Ella concentrated on her own breathing as Lucas rose from the table bringing her with him. He picked her up, cradling her like a newborn babe.

He was making a scene in front of his family and men, but the bawdy laughter of everyone in the room told her it was ok. She tucked her head against his shoulder, inhaling his scent and taking the heat from the nearness of his body as her own. They were in a room full of people but at that moment Ella could only see Lucas. She found she couldn’t tear her gaze from his. The sounds of laughter and the clan’s celebration faded, as he walked her out of the main hall.

As they made their way down the hall, Ella became confused.

“Lucas, you’ve passed my bedchamber.”

“Aye,” he said. Offering up no other explanation. She clutched him tighter as he opened the door to a large room beyond her own. She noted that it was very similar to her own bedchamber in decoration, except where Ella’s room had only one hearth and a small square window, this one had two stone hearths. Both with fires roaring high, giving the room a warm orange glow that she found extremely pleasing. There was a treated hide on the floor in front of one flanked with two oversized cushioned chairs. The other fire place was close to the largest bed Ella had ever seen and it was covered in tiny soft white rose petals. Where the devil would Lucas have gotten rose petals in October? Maybe Milly was right, there was magic and mystery about.

Lucas set her down on the bed, kissing her deeply. She moaned, or did it come from Lucas? She didn’t know. Nor did she care. She kissed him back fervently. Whiskey, cedar and his own natural scent filled her senses. He broke the kiss, and she whimpered in dissent. Ella actually whimpered, what was happening to her?

“This is my bedchamber, and now as my wife, I want ye tae ken it’s yours as well. I want ye tae feel free to make it yer own anyway ye see fit.”

“Really?”

“Aye.” She pulled him down to her, kissing him again. Who knew something as simple as sharing a sleeping space with Lucas would fill her with such happiness. “Lass, if ye don’t slow down, I willnae be able to stop,” he said breaking the kiss again.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she replied tugging at his shirt and kilt. He let out a low chuckle.

“Are ye glad we wed, then lass?”

“Mmhmm…” Sensation hit her at every turn. She could barely breath as he trailed kisses down her neck, while his hands deftly undid the buttons of her dress.

“This is what I dreamed of when we were layin’ in th’ crook of that tree by the farm.”

He dreamed of her? Like this? She knew he had desired her, now that she recognized the signs, it was hard not to know when he wanted her like this. But the night in the tree, she had thought it was an impulsive moment based more on need than actual desire. He continued to kiss her, reaching the sensitive spot where her collar bone met her throat.

“I should’ve never taken yer maidenhead like that. Ye deserved better. Ye deserved a bed of the softest plaids, made of the finest wool.”

“And rose petals,” she added, breathless.

“Aye, and rose petals…” He continued to deepen his kiss, and Ella allowed herself to get lost in her husband’s touch.