by Aileen Adams
“Where will we be, do ye think? Here? Elsewhere?”
“What do ye wish?”
Her sweet smile was balm on his wounded, long-lonely heart. “To be with ye. Only to be with ye. Nothing more than that.”
“Even though I am stubborn and hard-headed and monstrous?”
“Aye. I do not believe I could like ye half as much if ye were not so very difficult to like at times.”
“Och, ass. Ye know how to wound a man.” But he was laughing, and he pulled her into a deep, searching kiss which threatened to break his self-control. What a way to pay respect to his parents, by taking the lass at their grave.
The clouds gave way then, soaking them both in moments despite the overhanging branches and leaves. Laughter bubbled up in her chest, escaping her mouth when he pulled away.
He took her beaming face in his hands. “I love ye, Davina MacFarland, and if ye would do me the honor, I would make ye my wife and make this our home. I want to build a life with ye, to build a family with ye.”
“Here? You’re certain?”
“I could be happy anywhere, so long as I was with ye.” Yet he frowned. “Ye have not accepted me yet, however, so I might be saying this for no reason at all.”
Her eyes flew open, and once again she laughed. “I will marry ye! Of course! Did ye think I would not?”
“With ye?” He drew her close, tracing the lines of her face with his fingertips. “I have learned to expect anything.”
Epilogue
It was a simple wedding, with only the people who mattered to them in attendance.
Clyde looked for all the world like a proud father as he walked down the road with Davina on his arm, the two of them approaching the kirk in Avoch in which Rufus had been baptized. He had insisted on buying all of the men new kilts and tunics, new hose and shoes. He wanted all of them to look their best for his bride on their wedding day.
Including William Blackheath, who had come straightaway on hearing of Rufus’s victory and impending wedding. He was the reason everything had been set in motion, why the men who’d ridden across the Highlands with Rufus were with him at all. Why they stood beside him that very day.
As the commander of a great laird’s guard, a man such as William did not often have the chance to take time away, but Laird Richard and he were the best of friends, and as such there was a bit more leniency.
Rufus was glad for it. There was a sense of rightness in Blackheath’s presence at the wedding.
He smiled just as broadly as Alec and Tyrone, the three of them surely planning to enjoy themselves that night at the modest feast in honor of the bride and groom. They deserved it, all of them, that and so much more for what they’d given Rufus.
Friendship, brotherhood. Their loyalty. He knew now how indispensable those things were.
The priest waited by his side outside the open door leading into the kirk, smiling gently at his obvious nervousness. “Tis all right, lad. I have never lost a groom in all my years.” Judging by the man’s thin, white hair and slight, unceasing tremor, that had been a good many years.
Davina’s shy smile shone out at him like a ray of sun, lighting her face and the very air around her. She had requested the honor of wearing MacIntosh tartan—women being permitted to wear the colors, even if men were not, and the bold, bright colors stood out against her creamy skin and the white heather which she carried in one arm.
Drew stood to his left, grinning, nudging him with an elbow. “She turned out quite bonny, at that,” he murmured.
“Aye. That she did.”
“Far better than ye deserve.”
Rufus snorted, shaking his head at his cousin’s irreverence even at such a solemn moment.
Drew would be living with them for at least the next several months, while Rufus got the farm in order again. Months of neglect had turned the fields to little more than clumps of weeds and rotten vegetables, the outbuildings had fallen into disarray, and it would take a great deal more than his efforts and skills alone to undo the damage.
But it could be managed.
If Davina could fall in love with him and agree to be his wife in such an uncertain world, in a life in which neither of them knew what the next day would bring, he could certainly put his sweat and strength into building a thriving farm and home for her to live in.
Clyde looked fit to burst with pride as he brought Davina to join Rufus at the kirk doors and placed her hand in that of her soon-to-be husband. He would likely settle in the area, just to be near her and watch her family grow. Their bond was something Rufus did not understand, but could appreciate.
After all, she had never had much of a father. They were an odd pair, but a good one, and Rufus was happy to accept him as part of their wee clan.
“Are ye both prepared?” The priest smiled at him, then at his bride, brows raised in expectation.
Davina squeezed his hand, then nodded. “Aye. I believe we are.”
Rufus could only agree.
I hope you enjoyed A Highlander’s Captive!
Next in the series... A Highlander’s Gypsy.
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Copyright © 2018 by Aileen Adams
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