by Vonnie Davis
Nearly naked, Kenzie unfolded the tissue, her heart pounding, and her eyes settled on an ivory satin slim slip, barely long enough to cover the essentials and edged in lace. At her aunt’s request, she stepped into it, shimmying to raise it to her waist. The cool material slithered over her body like cool water over fern leaves. “Me boobs will start to ache with no bra for so long. They’re so sensitive.”
“Tell me about it. Mine are too. It’s the baby.” Paisley’s hand covered her little baby bump.
Aunt Una held out a Matheson plaid skirt. “Slip this on next. Thank goodness yer not so far along the zipper willna go up all the way.” The soft light woolen material fit her hips as snugly as her future husband’s hands. The front hemline barely came mid-thigh, gradually growing longer until the back touched her heels, flaring out like a mermaid’s skirt.
“Och, ʼtis very risqué, Aunt Una. What will people think?’
Effie patted Kenzie’s cheek. “Calm down. People will think you are gorgeous. Besides, we’ve yet to see the whole effect. What’s next, Una?”
She grinned as she pulled out a strapless bustier in the Matheson plaid. “This is why ye’ll need no bra. I’ll place this around you and tie up the back. We’ll want it tight enough to push your breasts up to catch yer husband’s eye, yet loose enough ye can catch yer breath.”
“Aye, being able to breathe while I take me wedding vows would be nice.”
Aunt Una pulled and yanked on the back strings of the bustier, stopping once to make sure Kenzie had her boobs all but toppling out. “Bryce’s eyes will most definitely be caught on the sight of ye.” The old witch cackled.
Kenzie stared in the mirror once Una was finished. The odd-looking combination of a strapless plaid bustier over a mermaid plaid skirt was pretty. “Did ye make me ballet slippers, too?”
“No, that was my contribution.” Effie handed her a shoe box. “Men love women in stilettos. They make her hips sway in a sexy way.” The old bawdy woman Kenzie had come to love gave her a saucy wink.
Kenzie looked at the box that had been thrust into her hands. “Tell me they arna pink.” She opened the box and pulled away the ivory tissue paper to find green satin strappy heels. “Sweet heavens, they’re perfect.” She sat to slip them on, and Effie pinned a wreath of flowers in her hair, made of white roses and daisies with the tips of their petals dyed blue.
The other women helped one another get their floral wreaths of daisies pinned to their hairdos. All these women were beautiful to Kenzie. Pretty, inside and out, and so precious to her soul. “I love ye all, ye know.” She reached for a tissue and dabbed her eyes. “Me eye makeup will be ruined.”
A knock sounded at the door and Colleen ran to answer it. “Uncle Creigh, look how beautiful I am in my flower girl dress.” She did a slow twirl. Och, her new daughter was such a girly-girl. Kenzie would have such fun taking her shopping fer school clothes. Dresses and frills and lots of pretty, sparkly things.
“Well now, ʼtis a Highland beauty ye are fer sure. Will ye ask Paisley to come to the door, please?”
“Paisley!” The child shrieked as if the woman were ten miles away. Kenzie shook her head. If the child’s wee heart didna burst with excitement today, she’d be surprised.
Paisley hurried to Creighton, and his eyes lit up at seeing her in her wedding attire. He leaned to murmur something in her ear and she blushed with happiness. Then he glanced around the impromptu dressing room. “All the last-minute preparations are done. The flares have been lit to illuminate the guests’ walkway and Ronan has the bonfires going. Cook tells me the wedding feast is ready. I have a florist box from Bryce for his bride. Since ye are the matron of honor, would ye see she gets it, luv?” He handed it to Paisley. “And ʼtis a good thing I’m not looking at her right now, for I’d have to tell me brother his eyes will pop out when he sees how lovely she looks in her finery.”
Kenzie went to him and he made a big show of covering his eyes so as not to see her. A giggle of happiness burst from her. What a gloriously happy day. A wedding, a new family, and a bairn. “Laird Creighton, thank ye again fer agreeing to escort me to me groom. I mean, since I have no da to do the honors.”
His large hand rose to cup her cheek. “Sister, ye are ours now. ʼTis bursting with pride I’ll be to walk ye between the bonfires toward Bryce. I’ll be thinking of me own da and how he kent years ago ye two were meant fer each other. A Highland prophecy, of sorts, coming true.”
“Uncle Creigh?” Colleen yanked on the hem of his kilt.
“Aye?” His fingers twirled one of her auburn curls.
“I’m still the cheery greeter here at the lodge, right?”
“Aye, child, ye will be for many years.”
“Then once I get to the front, after sprinkling me rose petals for me mum to walk on, shouldna I turn around and greet everyone?” Her little forehead wrinkled in question.
Bryce had told Kenzie during their long talks how seriously his little one took this job Creighton had given her a couple years ago. The laird, dressed in his full Highland regalia, glanced at Kenzie for her approval.
“I think our daughter should welcome everyone, since I hear she does such a fine job as the cheery greeter.”
He exhaled what appeared to be relief. “Well then, ʼtis settled. I’ll inform the minister.” His smile was all charm as he aimed them at his wife. “And do I get a kiss before I leave?”
Colleen jammed her hands at her tiny waist. “There will be no kissing before the wedding. No one kisses before me da and mum. They kiss first and then ye may kiss.”
One thick, dark eyebrow cocked before he reached out and pulled his wife to him. He laid a lip-lock on her that heated up the dressing room a couple degrees. Then he glared at his niece. “Never tell a Scot when he can and canna kiss his beloved, lassie.” He spun on his heel and marched out.
“Uncle Creigh, ye are not the boss of me!” His reaction must not have been good, for Colleen slammed the door and leaned against it. “Whew! What put a bee under his kilt?”
Paisley laughed. “Men like to think they’re the boss of us.” She touched the tip of her niece’s nose. “And sometimes we let them think they are. When you grow up, you’ll know how to pick and choose the right times.” Paisley handed the square white box to Kenzie. “These are for you from your groom.”
She removed the lid on the florist box. The scent of roses caressed her nose as she placed her hands inside to remove her bridal bouquet: a dozen white roses with blue and green ribbons to match the Matheson tartan. In the middle were two white roses tipped with pink and blue dye. Thinking back to the day they’d placed white roses in the loch, she kent the secret meaning behind his choice. Her big, strong, future husband was a sentimental man, and she loved the combination.
Colleen was at the window. “Uncle Ronan sure did make big bonfires. All three of them are burning brightly. Come see. Och, and the bagpipe players are taking their place by the walkway Da and Ronan fixed up yesterday.”
“Who are the bagpipe players, dear?” Effie looked in the mirror and fussed with the curls on what was referred to as her “Marilyn Monroe wig.”
“Well, there’s Neilan, Kendric, and Earnan.”
Effie flew to the window. “Really? Earnan’s in a kilt? Someone, quick, give me a pair of binoculars. I want to see that man’s legs.”
The ladies went downstairs to watch the guests approach. Annella, the new housekeeper Effie had hired for Iverson Loch, was on loan to Matheson Lodge for the day, passing out floral wreath headpieces to all the ladies as they lined up. While the guests waited to walk into the fire circle, champagne was served.
In a few minutes, Kenzie was going to marry the man she’d always loved. There were so many emotions raging through her system—love, joy, excitement, serenity, and hope. Reaching this point in their lives had been a long and winding trail of good and bad, sprinkled with surprises. She rested her hand on Colleen’s shoulder. This little angel was the good. She pressed her hand t
o her abdomen. The bairn growing within was the surprise.
At Creighton’s lead, the guests started singing an old Gaelic song of Scottish pride. No matter her biological ancestry, she was Scottish too. Paisley kissed Kenzie’s cheek and wiped off her lipstick, giggling. “What a happy day! Well, I suppose we’re ready. Una, Fiona, and Gram, you can march into the circle now too. Then we attendants will precede our beautiful bride.”
At the softening of the melodious bagpipes, Mary Kate walked through the path set between two of the bonfires. Paisley was next, followed by the flower girl. Kenzie was pleased Colleen had rationed out the rose petals instead of dumping them in a heap to get her job over and done with. Creighton bent his elbow for Kenzie to place her hand in. “Dinna be nervous, lassie, fer I ken me brother’s heart. He’s loved ye for a long time. He’ll never hurt ye.”
“I know.” And she did. Bryce had always been the man she’d loved. He was terribly strong and equally as tender. The man was full of every type of passion.
At last Colleen reached the front of the guests and turned to give her cheery greeting. “I wonder what she’ll say. This little girl of mine.”
“Och, it’ll be short and sweet. She’s a dandy, that one.” Creighton nodded toward his beloved niece, his pride evident.
The cherub cleared her throat. “Me name is Colleen Miranda Matheson and I am the cheery greeter here at Matheson Lodge.” There were a few chuckles. “So ʼtis happy I am to greet ye all and welcome ye to our wedding. Och, what a time we’ve had getting ready, having our hair curled and sprayed with smelly stuff. I got me first pair of earrings.” She leaned forward and pointed to her ears. “Me new mum peed on a stick, so she did, and it made a plus which means a bairn’s on the way.”
Gasps mingled with laughter.
Kenzie’s gaze jumped from Colleen to Bryce. His mouth formed an O in shock. “Oh, sweet Lord, I didna want Bry to find out like this.”
Creighton’s booming laughter bounced off the trees. “Do ye see the look on his face? Gobsmacked, he is.”
Colleen kept rambling. “Me mum’s not wearing a bra and she’s afraid her boobs are going to get sore and ʼtwould be no wonder the way they’re about to spill out of the top of that ‘boose-tea-hey’ her aunt Una has her tied into. But Aunt Paisley says ʼtis the pregnancy that makes a woman’s boobs hurt, which I dinna understand.” She tilted her head. “But then I dinna understand why Butler Bean’s tallywhacker got sore from him pulling on it so much either.”
Amid much laughter from the guests, Bryce clasped his hand over his daughter’s mouth, his face beet red. “I think me daughter is done with her little speech now.”
“Sweet Christ, I hope so.” Creighton shook his head. “ʼTwill be the talk of four counties fer years. Come on, sister, let’s get ye up there before she thinks of something else to say.”
All eyes were on Kenzie as she walked toward Bryce, who beamed a smile from ear to ear, his dimples deep slashes in his handsome cheeks. She could almost read his thoughts. And as his gaze dropped to her neckline and the ample amount of flesh pushed up by the bustier, she was sure she noticed his kilt tent a wee bit.
In the shrubbery between two of the fires, blue eyes stared at her from her lynx. I told ye there would be more bairns.
Bryce reached for her hand and pulled her close, his arm around her waist. “Me God, woman, ye know how to make a man happy. I love ye.” He embraced her, his beard rasping her cheek.
“I love ye too, Bry. More every day.”
“I didna think this day would ever come. And a bairn too?” He stared at her with those chocolate eyes.
She cupped his cheek. “Yes, our new family is already growing.”
He kissed her in that sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Forever together. Me beloved.”
BY VONNIE DAVIS
A Highlander’s Beloved Novel
A Highlander’s Obsession
A Highlander’s Passion
A Highlander’s Heart (coming soon)
PHOTO: MIKE SHUBERT
VONNIE DAVIS, who studied English at Penn State, likens herself to a croissant: crusty, wrinkled, flaky—and best served with strong coffee. After a career as a technical writer, she’s spending her retirement playing fairy godmother to her characters, giving them their happily-ever-afters. Six fantastic, talented kids call her “Grandma” and brighten her world in so many ways. She lives in southern Virginia with her husband, author Calvin Davis.
www.vonniedavis.com
Facebook.com/WritingStoriesOfTheHeart
@VonnieWrites
A Highlander’s Passion is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Loveswept eBook Original Copyright © 2015 by Vonnie Davis Excerpt from A Highlander’s Heart by Vonnie Davis copyright © 2015 by Vonnie Davis All rights reserved.
Published in the United States of America by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book A Highlander’s Heart by Vonnie Davis. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.
eBook ISBN 9780553394641
Cover design: Seductive Designs Cover photograph: iStock/Artem_Furman Cover background: Shutterstock/Martin M303
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