The large cook rushed over. “Not only did the laird cook the food, he insisted on gathering the eggs from the hens himself—said he had to be sure they weren’t tampered with. He even got the flour and shortening, milk and salt for the bread and mixed that himself. I’m sure you can see that he prepared the juice.”
The elders had seen more than enough. “Laird, you can’t be running around the kitchen like a lackey and cooking for the love of God. It’s beneath your dignity. You are a man of consequence. You are the leader of this clan. You must act like it else you will forfeit everyone’s respect.”
The heat of battle lit Nial’s eyes. “What I won’t forfeit is Heather. Dignity would be cold comfort as I aged and withered, alone and longing for the grave because the only hope I had left was meeting her on the other side.” Nial snorted then, and looked at them challengingly, as he continued. “That’s a load of bull actually. If I lose her I won’t be around long enough to age or wither.”
The three men were silent as they stared at Nial, and none of them could find a single word in response when they realized he was completely serious.
Mac said, “Well, I suppose for the good of the clan we’ll have to hope Heather remains hale and hearty.”
Hugh was less kind. “Touched he is. He is purely obsessed with that girl. Love is well and good but this is just not normal, it ain’t.”
Carrick’s words were kinder. “Gentlemen, most fathers walking an only daughter down the aisle do so with some doubt as to whether she will be loved or treated well by the man he’s about to give her to. I can say categorically that I will have not the slightest doubt that I’m giving my Heather to a man who loves her beyond even the dreams of a proud papa.”
Over the next two days, as the castle prepared for the wedding, one thing was clear to every soul about the place, from servant to warriors, elders and even to the throngs of the disappointed lasses.
Laird Nial Maclee was head over heels in love with Lady Heather MacIver.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Normally, when she and Nial were closeted in the bedroom a knock at the door would be most unwelcome. But these days normal didn’t exist, and the knock at the door made her want to dance with glee. Nial’s pacing was on her last nerve and nothing she said distracted him. The wedding was tomorrow, and he was driving the whole castle batty with his anxiety.
Her father tried to keep his sense of humor about it all. He said, “At least the boy doesn’t have cold feet. I’ve never seen a groom so anxious to get wed. Guess he’s got the opposite. Nial has hot feet.”
Da was right. Her betrothed’s feet were so hot he couldn’t sit still. Then came the knock. Thank the Lord.
Nial snatched open the door before Boz could knock a second time but still protested being drug into the hallway. Sedgewick erupted at his protest. “For the love of God, man. You’ve got two warriors at the door and we will be inches away. She can shout and have help in seconds.”
“What if she couldn’t shout? Did you ever think about that?”
Boz ordered the guards to stand inside the door and keep it open a crack.
“Happy now?”
“No. I’m not happy. I just want to get married. Once she’s mine, maybe I can calm down.”
“I know, buddy. It’s just that you’re driving everyone dicked in the nob. I try not to complain, because I know you have good cause for every bit of protection you can give your bride.”
Nial’s eyes brimmed with such love and fear it was painful to meet his gaze. “Still getting uneasy feelings from your sixth sense?”
“I’m not going to pull any punches. My gut’s churning and I’m getting a bit queasy. The last time it acted up this bad was when I was in France in bed with a lovely young thing. I was having too much fun and ignored my instincts to get home. Soon I got bloody nauseous, fighting the need to throw up. I still ignored it. Then I stood to pour some wine and doubled up in pain. About a half-hour later I got a message that Father had died.”
He clapped a hand on his cousin’s shoulder and said, “I’ve been queasy for the last hour.”
“Should I cancel the wedding?”
“No, we’re past that point. It’s like someone at the top of a hill has pushed a big boulder. The only thing left is to see whether you can get Heather out of the way in time.”
Nial turned to the window. When he whirled back around, his voice was unsteady. “I love her so much. I’m doing everything I can to hold on and it doesn’t feel like enough.”
Sedgewick said quietly, “I know.”
“What else can I do?”
“Just love her, I guess,” the duke replied, knowing it was impossible for a man to do more than his cousin was doing already.
He didn’t stop following his cousin’s advice until her screams of pleasure rang through the castle and then she lay utterly exhausted, having gone completely still just after her last sweet death. He lay panting and panicking, knowing that all of the sweet deaths could not save her from the cruel one. Every conceivable security precaution that could be in place was in place. What more could he do? Then he knew. He hadn’t done it much in his life, feeling he could counter any threat on his own, thank you very much. But this one felt like too much for him, so his lips started moving as he watched her so intently he barely blinked.
As exhausted as she was, the small noise woke her and she peeked through her eyelids to see Nial sitting up in bed with his eyes trained on her and his lips repeating something over and over. After the third time, she made out his prayer. “Please protect her, don’t take her from me. She is all I need. Take anything else. Take everything else. Please keep her safe. Please keep her safe.” She woke a couple of times during the night with the sensation that someone was watching. Each peek showed Nial propped up on one elbow, stroking her hair or her face or her arm while he murmured the same continuing prayer. She was right too. There was someone watching her because Nial did all through the night.
The morning came and when Heather opened her eyes for real this time, Nial still held her to his chest, and his hands stroked her hair and his lips moved in prayer. She reached up to take his lips and murmur, “It will be all right. I promise. I won’t leave you.”
He smiled a bittersweet smile, and leaned over to feather her eyes with kisses as he said, “At sunset tonight you shall be mine. I would give everything I have, everything I am, for this to be tomorrow night and you to be lying beside me as my wife by your vow.”
“You truly think there will be trouble?”
He wouldn’t lie to her, but he would sugarcoat the truth. “I do love, but I don’t think it will be anything we can’t handle.”
“But why? I don’t understand who would be brewing trouble now. If Sorcha wasn’t gone, I would know who to accuse.” Heather’s distress was audible in her voice.
Nial reached down to plant a tender kiss to her lips, and said against them, “My love, if Sorcha weren’t gone I would have ordered her killed after the attempted poisoning. But it can’t be her and if I knew why then I would most likely know who.”
One kiss led to another, and his mouth was lowering to seek fuller game when a knock came to the door and Bonnie and Carrick’s voices could be heard from outside.
“Damn,” Nial muttered.
“You’re a glutton,” Heather said as she poked him in the chest.
“Are you complaining love?” He asked as his fingers feathered across her nipples.
She thrust her breasts into his hands as she said, “We have to stop.”
Regretfully, he said, “No, but we do have to pause.”
He called out, “Just a moment” and assisted her to her feet and into her robe. He donned his on his way to open the door.
Carrick walked in carrying a platter and held up a hand to forestall Nial’s comment. “This wedding breakfast was lovingly prepared by Heather’s mother.” He set the tray down before beaming proudly. “I even helped.”
Heather approached the food
eagerly. There were many things Nial did well but cooking really wasn’t one of them. He placed his hands on her shoulders to halt her progress towards the food.
“Whose hands touched this food?”
“Just mine and my wife's,” Carrick replied.
Bonnie drew herself up to sputter, “You can hardly accuse Heather’s parents of having an intent to harm her. We love her as much as you do, Laird Maclee.”
He drew Heather’s hand to his mouth. “No ma’am, that is not true. I can promise you that no one loves her as much as I do.” He turned to the food and began to taste. “I wish to be sure it is safe.” He tasted each dish and then held up his hand for his lass to wait a bit longer.
Her hunger prompted her to protest. “You’ve tasted everything and it was cooked by my parents for God’s sake. Why can’t I eat now?”
“A moment love. Some poisons do not act immediately.” He would not relent, and only after he felt a sufficient time had past did he allow her to touch the food.
Bonnie still looked peeved at being doubted, but Carrick wryly observed, “I try to remind myself that at least I have no cause to doubt my son-in-law’s affection for my daughter.”
“Of that you can be sure,” Nial grinned as he watched Heather devour both portions of food on the platter.
Lady MacIver spoke up then. “Nial, after lunch Violet and I will be here to get Heather ready for the wedding. She will meet you at the altar at sunset.” She tensed for the explosion she was certain would follow. She was right.
“Hell no, Madam. I will not allow her out of my sight. Shall we make it easy for those who would kill her? When she is done with the food perhaps we should save time and serve her up to them on the platter?”
“Son, I really must insist that her mother and I have some time alone with her before she leaves us to become your wife.” The wily laird knew that the younger man would be swayed by the emotional appeal and continued, pressing his advantage. “We know you love her. We appreciate your dedication to keeping her safe. But I will wait here with the ladies and I will walk her to the kirk. You must allow us some time alone with her before the wedding. We need some time to talk and to reminisce. We too have words to exchange with our daughter today.”
With the warrior instincts that protected his clan, Carrick moved in for the kill, placing his hand on the other man’s arm as he emphasized, “Someday it will be your daughter that you are about to give to another man. No matter how much the other man loves her, she will be leaving you that day. Would you allow anyone to deny you a few last moments of privacy with her?”
Nial had to acknowledge the truth of Carrick’s words. Heather had stood during her father’s plea. Her back was to him and her head rested against his chest. Unconsciously, with Laird MacIver’s last words, his hands stroked her stomach.
He sighed deeply and reluctantly answered, “I suppose. Carrick, you don’t know how hard this is. I would prefer that we summon the priest now and exchange our vows here, now.”
The MacIver realized that the younger laird’s concern for his daughter’s safety outweighed every other consideration. He understood and had proposed the same to his wife twice or more. Her tearful pleas swayed him and he'd given his word that their only daughter would marry in the chapel.
“Nial,” Carrick reproved.
“It will be okay, love,” Heather urged, taking his hand to her mouth and nibbling on his index finger. She smiled against his hand as she felt his need expanding against her back. He relented, and unconsciously put both arms around her waist, squeezing so tightly that she had trouble breathing. He laid his head against hers as he appealed to Carrick.
“You promise that you will watch her every moment? You promise to keep her safe? You promise to deliver her to me at that altar?” Nial’s arms folded tighter with each word.
“Only if you promise not to choke her to death first,” he said, and laughed as he and Bonnie exited from the room as the laird’s face reddened. He was preoccupied with his embarrassment, and missed Heather stepping around him until she knelt between his legs and untied his robe.
He asked the question silently.
Her answer was muffled, because her mouth was pressed to his rapidly rising manhood. “It’s my turn to cherish you,” she said.
She smiled like a cat and wielded her tongue just as mischievously and didn’t show mercy even when his moans changed to wails audible in the hallway and beyond. The elder of the pair guarding the door had to restrain the younger. “It’s not the kind of cry for help he wants us to answer, son.”
Boz wanted to update his cousin that his sixth sense was thrumming louder and he had passed from queasy to downright nauseous. He approached the door of the bedchamber just as loud dueling mewls emerged from the interior of the room.
He smiled at the guards as he said, “It sounds like it would be a very bad time to interrupt.”
“I wouldn’t,” replied the eldest.
Boz grinned. “I'll catch up with him later." As he turned to leave the sounds increased and he winced as he added, "Seeing how drastically love has changed Nial, I am now twice as committed to avoiding the state.”
“Really, sir?” Asked the younger, “After being on the listening end of this door for the past few days, I can’t wait to fall in love.”
“Why is that?” the duke asked.
“Although it seems to drive you around the bend the benefits make sure you really enjoy the trip.”
When Bonnie and Violet arrived in the early afternoon the laird remained firmly fixed in the bedchamber. He watched the preparations until servants began to fetch bath water for Heather. He didn’t intend to leave then either, but his future mother-in-law evicted him.
“Nial Maclee,” she said, with one hand on her hips and a finger of the other wagging at him as though he were a small child, “it’s time for you to get out of here.”
“Because my lady is taking a bath? That’s ridiculous.”
“What you’ve seen of and done with my daughter, I don’t want to hear about. What I want to hear is that you’re keeping your word. I’m quite certain you recall your conversation with Carrick this morning. Well, it’s time for you to go. You’ll see Heather again at the kirk.”
Nial wanted to argue but he had given his word and as his future mother-in-law had just reminded him, a Scot always kept his word. He stood up and took Heather’s hand and led her to the door, ignoring Violet’s outraged squeak that she wore only her robe. At the door, he faced the room and she faced him. He opened the belt and drew her close. It felt a lot like goodbye, so the clump of emotion in his throat made speech a physical effort.
He leaned to her ear. “My love, I don’t want to leave you. Say you agree and I’ll break my word to your father and I will be the one who walks you to the chapel. Better yet, I will summon the priest and we will wed now.”
He was staring at the floor as he spoke and she put a finger under his chin to force him to look up at her. His eyes were wet, and though he bit his lower lip, it didn't fully hide the quiver. She put both hands to his cheeks tenderly, and several stray teardrops slipped down his cheeks and over her fingers.
“Nial,” she whispered tenderly, “I love you and it will be all right. I will be fine. I will come to you down the altar garbed like a princess on the arm of my father. Let’s do this right, please?”
“Heather,” he said brokenly, “I love you so much but this feels like goodbye. I want you to know that I would betray my clan to keep you. I would betray my honor to keep you. I would go to the land of faerie and dwell with you there to keep you. I will not lose you.”
Now she cried as he reached down and took her lips for a long and tender kiss filled more with love than passion. Normally, Bonnie or Violet would have gone into a bout of coughing or throat clearing to break it up, but the truth was, they couldn’t. Both were so choked up from his words that they couldn’t speak at all.
He left without another word, and Bonnie held her arms ope
n to her daughter. All three women sobbed. Vi sniffed as she said, “Drat that man, he’s got us starting already. But I’ll tell you what, you’d better marry him or I will.”
“Oh, I’m going to marry him. And I’m going to surprise him by being hale and hearty when I say my vows,” Heather promised.
“You may be more hale and hearty than he is my dear,” Bonnie warned dryly.
“Why is that?”
“Because if he keeps insulting your father by implying that he’s not strong enough or careful enough to get you to the altar in one piece, then Carrick just might kill him.”
******
As the women bustled about getting ready, Nial donned his ceremonial kilt and made it downstairs in a matter of minutes. He’d never be able to understand how it took women so many hours to get dressed. Then he recalled Heather at the various balls they had attended in London and smiled as he decided that he couldn’t argue with the results.
After about fifteen minutes everyone wished he'd go back upstairs. The laird’s state had passed tense, anxious, and even desperate. His worry level now hovered somewhere beyond berserk. This should be a joyful occasion, but Nial’s pacing and muttering made it impossible for anyone to feel like celebrating. When Peter got close enough to hear what he was saying, it didn’t help anyone’s mood to learn he was praying.
Even more astonished by the laird than the men in the house was the priest. The good man nearly fainted. He stopped by to be sure that everything was still as planned for the wedding. He took three steps into the dwelling before Laird Maclee grabbed his arm.
“Father McGiven will you pray with me? Now, right now?”
The priest could hardly have done otherwise, especially since Laird Maclee was yanking him down. It was either get on one knee or fall. One knee was the Highland prayer posture, since the men here refused to go down on two knees. They said that they’d not beg anyone, even God. Priests here considered themselves lucky to get the stubborn Scots to the one knee, so they gave up pressing for more.
The father glanced at the other men and Sedgewick mouthed “humor him.” Boz was less generous a moment later, after his cousin's next words.
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