Chapter Twenty-One
Six months later…
Bella stood in ivory ballet slippers and a fairytale wedding dress just outside the arched doorway that led into St. Margaret’s Chapel. The panoramic views of Edinburgh this afternoon were incredible, but she barely spared a glance for the scenery. Fidgeting with the bodice of her gown, she glanced at McKenzie who was stunning in aquamarine silk.
“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Bella muttered.
McKenzie smiled sympathetically. “Wedding nerves. I was the same way. The men have taken their places inside, so it’s almost time to go. You look amazing, sweetheart. I would hug you, but I don’t want to mess up your veil. I spent too long getting it exactly right.”
Bella gazed at her sister-in-law with trembling lips, choked by a wave of emotion. “Thank you for being here today. It means the world to me.” The guest list for the chapel was limited to twenty-five. Ian and Bella had realized early on that it would be virtually impossible to start inviting friends without offending someone. For that reason, they had chosen to have a private ceremony instead, with two receptions later, one in London and one in North Carolina.
Today in the chapel, the only participants would be the priest, the two couples, one harpist who would act as witness, and the benign spirt of the departed Saint Margaret. Ian had invited his father, but the older man declined, citing his health. He and Bella had met several times by now and were on good terms.
McKenzie glanced at her watch, opened the door, and smiled reassuringly. “It’s time, Bella.”
Spilling out into the warm spring sunshine, the lilting notes of the harp filled the alcove with a melodious air from Handel’s “Water Music”. McKenzie walked slowly toward the front and took her place opposite Finley. Bella lifted her chin, took a deep breath, and followed. Though she knew the confines of the small lovely chapel very well by now, she had eyes only for Ian. He was resplendent today in a dress kilt fashioned from the Larrimore tartan. The crisp white shirt showed off his tan and his broad shoulders.
Afterward, she couldn’t remember the steps that took her from the door to the altar of the chapel, but she found herself in exactly the right spot. She handed her bouquet of white roses to McKenzie. Then Ian took both of her hands in his, smiling. She had never seen him look so happy or so much at peace.
The elderly priest nodded his head and began to speak. “Friends, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and these witnesses to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. In the millennium that has passed since this kirk was built to honor Saint Margaret and to glorify the Almighty, your children have taken shelter in these walls. They have faced the grief of loss. They have weathered the fear of the unknown. Last but certainly not least, they have experienced the boundless joy we celebrate today. I would ask that you bless Ian and Arabella Margaret on this day they are wed. Let us pray…”
Bella experienced some kind of out-of-body experience in those next moments. It was a combination of things perhaps—the scent of lilies on the altar, the feel of Ian’s large warm hands enfolding hers, the misty-eyed emotion on her brother’s face. The priest’s voice rose and fell, repeating ago-old words of faith and commitment.
Ian slid a simple platinum band on her left hand and repeated his vows. She reciprocated in a clear voice, determined not to cry when she was so very, very lucky to be standing in this historic spot with the man of her dreams.
At last, it was over. She had wanted to memorize every moment, but her heart was too full. The priest joined their four hands and placed his on top. The blessing and benediction he offered was in Gaelic, one Ian had suggested. Bella had learned the words by heart, and their meaning. She let the old man’s heavy Scottish accent wash over her and fill her with buoyant joy.
Then the pronouncement, a burst of celebratory music from the harpist, and a flurry of hugs and laughter.
While Ian thanked the priest and McKenzie spoke to the harpist, Bella pulled her brother aside. “I wanted to tell you something before Ian and I leave on our honeymoon.”
Finley kissed her cheek. “This was a perfect wedding, Bella. You’re a gorgeous bride. So tell me. What is it?”
Her cheeks felt hot. “Just a head’s up that you may be an uncle sooner rather than later.”
He gaped at her. “You’re pregnant?”
“Oh, no. Not yet. But Ian’s childhood was pretty dreadful. Yours and mine wasn’t too much better. We’ve decided we want a big family, and we don’t want to waste any time. Plus, I’ll have almost a year to work on my novel even if I get pregnant right away, so that will keep me plenty busy in London.”
Finley beamed. “Well, McKenzie didn’t want to steal your thunder, but she and I are pregnant.”
When Bella gasped, he shushed her. “Swear to me you won’t let on that I told you. She’d have my hide.”
“I won’t say a word.” Bella hugged him tightly. “Mama would be proud of us, I think.”
Finley nodded. “Yep. All things considered, we turned out pretty well.”
They turned in unison and gazed at their spouses who were laughing and joking and apparently having a lot of fun together.
Finley lifted an eyebrow. “Should we break up their party?” he joked.
Bella caught her brand new husband’s eye and smiled at him. Ian stopped mid-sentence and came to claim his bride. McKenzie followed right behind him, snagged her husband’s wrist, and dragged him close for an enthusiastic hug.
Over Ian’s shoulder, Bella blew her brother a kiss. “Nothing to worry about, Finley. I have it on good authority that we all lived happily ever after.”