by Aileen Adams
Donnan reached into his belt and withdrew a bit of parchment which he handed to her. The sight of her father’s writing brought tears to her eyes. “Did you—” she began to ask before emotion choked her.
“Of course, I sent word to him the moment we heard from Calan Stewart that ye were alive and well,” Donnan assured her. “We knew he would be half-mad with worry for yer safety, lass, especially when word spread among the nobles that the bastard to whom he promised ye—”
“Husband,” Ann murmured, casting a doleful eye his way.
He cleared his throat, humbled for a moment by his wife. “As I say, when word spread that he had not returned, everyone believed the worst.”
“It seems they were correct to do so,” Boyd muttered as he draped an arm over Olivia’s shoulders. She was grateful to him, so very grateful, for every touch reminded her of the love she had found and planned to keep by her side always.
How fortunate she had been. How very blessed.
You are in my thoughts as ever, daughter.
Tears blurred her vision, making it difficult to read the rest. Her happiness would never be complete so long as she was without him, she knew. The only part of the life she planned to live with Boyd that left her with a pain in her chest.
To marry him would mean to turn her back on England forever. And on her father, for she certainly could not wander across the border while their countries were at war. Perhaps later, once peace had been struck.
Though there was no telling just when that would be, or even if he would be alive by the time the day came. She could only pray and hope he would be, and that she would look upon him again. Perhaps by then she could bring his grandchildren to him, as well.
This notion lightened her spirits somewhat as they entered the familiar keep. There was such warmth, such sense of clan and family. It made her happier than ever that Boyd had agreed to pay a visit to her mother’s cousins before turning north to wed on MacPherson land.
“Olivia, I have something for ye in my study, if ye would be so kind as to follow me.” Donnan led the way with Olivia wondering just what the man could possibly have for her. For Boyd, certainly, but her?
It all became clear upon stepping foot inside the room.
He stood, turning to her. His sweet, dear smile was the thing she had not known her heart needed until that very moment. “Olivia,” Edward Smythe breathed, opening his arms to her.
“Father?” She flew to him, weeping before she even reached him. “I thought—I never—”
“I know,” he chuckled, holding her tighter than he ever had before. “I know, my dear. Forgive me for ever promising you to that man.”
“Oh, you cannot blame yourself.” She managed to release her hold around his neck long enough to lean back to look at him. “You could not have known. I am so happy. So very happy, Father.”
“As am I.” They embraced again, neither of them speaking for a long while.
Finally, Donnan spoke from across the room. “We had a time of it, to be sure, bringing him over the border to see ye.”
“Such a chance you took!” she gasped, looking at them both.
“Aye, but it seems it was worth it, does it not?” Donnan grinned.
Her father looked down at her, gently patting her cheek. “It was nothing. Donnan and Ann have been kind enough to offer me a place in their home while we waited on your arrival. I simply could not have my daughter wed without my being here to witness the joyous event.”
She blinked rapidly, doing everything she could to keep up with the thoughts racing back and forth in her fevered brain. “Wedding?” she whispered. “Here? Now?”
“Why not?” Boyd joined them, standing beside her and nodding his head in respect to her father. “Though I suspect we ought to speak beforehand.”
“I suspect we might well do that,” Olivia’s father chuckled. “Though from what I have heard, you are a fine man. You risked life and limb to rescue my daughter from a man I was foolish enough to trust with her safety. You defended her honor before dozens of onlookers, none of whom stepped in to help her.”
His eyes twinkled. “You even cared for her when she swooned during a hunt.”
“Oh, Father,” she whispered, hiding her flushed face behind her hand.
“Whatever made you think you ought to join them on a hunt at all?” he asked, laughing. “You had never seen such a thing in your life!”
“It would be much too long a tale to tell,” she confessed, laughing with him now.
He grew serious then. “I believe you are a good, fine man who will place my daughter’s comfort and security before your own needs. Is that not so?”
“Aye, ‘tis indeed the truth,” Boyd murmured, glancing at Olivia just once before looking back to her father. “She is all of life to me, and I shall spend the rest of my days caring for her.”
“I need know nothing else,” her father shrugged. “I understand well your feelings. I felt the same toward her mother, my wife. I loved her the moment I met her, and no one could convince me of her being unsuitable for a man of my name to wed. I hope I was a decent husband to her, as you wish to be toward my daughter.”
Olivia hugged him about the neck again, too happy for words.
Ann clapped her hands briskly before blowing her nose in a handkerchief. “Well, then! We had quite a lot to do! Edward Smythe can hardly linger for all the rest of his life, and the pair of ye ought to be wed at once. Olivia, I have a gift for ye which ye shall need to put on.”
“What?” she asked, her head spinning as Ann led her from the study, then up the stairs.
“Ye left one of your kirtles behind, lamb, and my girls used it to make ye a grand gown for yer wedding day. They have sewn morning and night!” Ann opened the door on the chambers which Olivia had used during her stay.
She gasped at the sight of a lovely, sky-blue gown on the bed. It shone with a pearl-like luster, and when she dared touch hesitant fingers to it sighed its softness. “It is so lovely. So very beautiful. I wonder if I deserve such a thing.”
“Och, lassie. Of course, ye do, just as ye deserve that man downstairs. Dinna allow yerself to forget, I knew this was meant to be. Did I not?”
Olivia giggled at the memory. What a foolish thing she’d been, and such a short time ago. She had never even been kissed.
Now, she would never be kissed by another man, and she could not have been happier.
26
“To my daughter, and her husband. May you know the sort of happiness you both so richly deserve, and may you be blessed with children whose happiness will one day be your own, as yours is mine today.”
Olivia brushed away a tear, smiling lovingly at her father while those gathered around them raised their wine in a toast to the newly married MacPhersons.
Olivia MacPherson. She enjoyed the sound of it. Wife of the laird. Would she be the sort of mistress Greer Stewart was? Running about the place, ordering people about, always full of energy and ever so capable?
Or would she be like Ann, who was also capable but managed to keep a sparkle in her eye and a laugh in her voice?
Perhaps she would be herself. Just herself. And she would learn as she went along. At least she had her weeks as a maid to inform her decisions. It was a place to start.
Her husband exchanged a secret smile with her before being pulled away by a group of men wishing to toast him again. And again. She left them to it, giggling to herself at their knowing laughter, the way they clapped him on the back and told him to bid farewell to the life of an unattached laird.
Meanwhile, every unattached girl in the place looked just a bit downcast at the handsome, rugged Boyd MacPherson no longer being available to them. Though he had only ever been available in their dreams, which she suspected had been quite vivid given some of the barely-concealed looks of jealousy she caught from the corner of her eye.
He did make quite a sight, though, a head taller than the tallest man and twice as wide. He held his head with th
e same confident air he’d done the day they met, and his laughter boomed out over all others. She knew she would never grow tired of the sight or sound of him.
Only a tugging at her wide, bell-shaped sleeve turned her attention from the glorious sight of her new husband.
“Father,” she beamed. “I am so happy today. I would not have been half so happy if you were not here to celebrate with us.”
Her dear father patted her hand. Then, his smile faltered, and she knew why before he spoke. “I must return, you know.”
She touched her head to his chest, her heart aching in a way it had not since she’d imagined living her life without Boyd. “I know.”
“Would that I could remain with you, my daughter. I hope you understand that.”
“I do.” She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. “And I hope you understand that if I could remain with you always, I would. I would make my home with you were it possible to do so. You have ever been the most loving, kindest father I could have asked for. Now that I have seen for myself how some men regard their daughters, I know better than ever how fortunate I was to have you.”
He stroked her hair with gentle fingers, hesitant, as if he did not wish to muss the coiled braids which Bridget and Ann had arranged at the back of her head. “I am quite proud of you—I always was, but never more so than now, knowing what you risked, to do what you knew was right. You were wiser than myself, that is certain.”
“It matters not now.” She took his arm, walking with him from the great hall and out into the courtyard. A trio of Donnan’s men waited there, already mounted.
A cloak hung over the saddle of a fourth horse, which her father fastened at his neck before pulling the hood over his head. “We shall cross the border shortly, thanks to the dry weather, and I shall be home in little time. You need not worry for me.”
But she did worry for him. She worried for all of them, on both sides. What was to come? How long would it be until the war ended?
“Waste no time,” she whispered before kissing his cheek. “And remember how I love you. I hope to see you again, soon.”
“It will be the final prayer from my lips each night before I sleep,” he vowed before mounting the waiting palfrey. “And I shall sleep better, knowing you are in such excellent care. I will remember you as you are now, my dear daughter.”
He looked over her shoulder, and in a moment, she felt Boyd’s presence behind her. The two men exchanged a wordless look, both of them nodding as if some silent exchange had been completed.
With that, the riders left, with her father in the middle of them. A long sigh escaped her parted lips as she watched them go.
Boyd’s hand curled around hers. “He will be well. They shall see to it.”
“I know,” she whispered, wistful. “I only wish it did not need to be so.”
“This will not last for always,” he reminded her. “Unlike my love for ye, lass, no war can last for always.”
She turned to him with a smile. “That is quite a relief, for I would not wish to be wed to a man who did not intend to love me for always.”
“Even though nobles dinna wed for love?” he teased, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “A pity, for I shall love ye until my dying breath and beyond, Olivia MacPherson. Make no mistake of it.”
“I intend to hold you to that promise, husband.” She kissed him then, her heart swelling at the notion of kissing this man for the rest of her life.
A life she could hardly wait to start.
I hope you enjoyed The Highlander’s Lady. !
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Copyright © 2018 by Aileen Adams
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