Sadie leaned against Ross and sighed, it was so lovely.
“As they are pledged to each other in love, so we promise, in hope, to be a living sign of love in the world. I declare that you are joined in marriage.” The reverend unwound the stole and the couple stood. Next he took the Celtic Sampler quilt that Amy and Max had presented to him, which he proceeded to wrap around Andrew and Moira’s shoulders.
“May the peace of the Lord be with you,” Casper said, smiling.
At that, Andrew and Moira kissed each other joyfully.
“I present to you the new husband and wife,” Reverend MacGregor announced, as everyone applauded.
Amy retrieved the quilt and laid it over a chair. Andrew undid the pin at Moira’s shoulder and removed her tartan. Max retrieved another tartan from the front pew and gave it to the groom.
Ross leaned over. “The MacBride tartan. To welcome the bride into his clan.”
Andrew held the tartan to Moira’s shoulder and she helped him secure it in place with a brooch. Then to Sadie’s surprise, Max reached into his pocket and gave a smaller brooch to Andrew, who knelt and pinned it to Glenna’s sash.
“The MacBride crest,” Ross whispered into Sadie’s hair.
She was enjoying this play-by-play from her Scottish escort.
When Andrew was done, Glenna threw her arms around her new father and hugged him, kissing his cheek.
More tears leaked from Sadie’s eyes. Glenna had lost her parents, but she was given a new family today. Ross handed her the other handkerchief.
While Sadie dabbed at her eyes, the wedding party walked to the table under the crucifix and took turns signing papers and the church registry.
Afterward, Reverend MacGregor motioned for everyone to stand for the final prayer. After Amen, the bagpipe sounded from the back of the church and Graham marched down the aisle to the front, turned and led the wedding party out again, first Max and Amy, then Andrew and Moira with Glenna holding their hands between them. The church bells began to ring.
Sadie’s heart swelled. And because all eyes were on Andrew and Moira, when Ross took her hand and squeezed, Sadie didn’t immediately let go. What a blessing to witness this wedding. She had rarely felt such happiness.
No wonder so many hookups happened after weddings. All that love had a tendency to spill over onto the guests, until everyone was oozing wonderful endorphins. And that’s why Sadie was going to ask Ross to come back to her bed tonight.
Chapter Eighteen
Sadie’s face throughout the wedding had all the excitement and wonder of Dand’s on Christmas morn, Ross thought. He had never enjoyed a wedding more. As the crowd filed out of the kirk, he followed behind Sadie, guiding her with his hand on her lower back.
As the village and guests processed down the walkway to the restaurant, Ross lingered behind on purpose. When Sadie began to fall in line behind them, he pulled her between the buildings.
“Not so fast.” He cupped her face. “I’ve been wanting to do this all morning.” And he kissed her sweet lips.
She grabbed his biceps and mewed.
Gawd, she was enticing.
He let her go and stepped back. “That was because I didn’t say good morn to ye properly.”
She stepped closer and laid a hand on his chest. “I like how you said it.”
“We’d better get to the reception,” he said huskily.
“Yes. Before we are missed.” She was probably thinking about her brother and the ruckus he would cause if he knew Ross had her alone again.
Together, they rushed to the reception, but when they arrived, people were still funneling in. When they finally made it upstairs to the grand dining room on the second floor of Pastas & Pastries, Max was standing beside Andrew with a dome-shaped mantel clock in his hands.
“I understand,” Max was saying, “it’s Scottish tradition for the best man to give the groom a clock.” As he passed the clock to Andrew, the room applauded.
Andrew set the clock on the table behind them.
Max held up his hand. “But because I’m from the States, it’s only fitting to give our man of the hour the traditional American gift, too.” From beneath the table he pulled a bottle of whisky and held it up high for everyone to see.
The room broke into laughter, and Max and Andrew ceded the floor to Amy and Moira.
From the table, Amy retrieved a tray with a tea set. “If you are cold, tea will warm you,” she recited. “If you are too heated, it will cool you; if you are depressed, it will cheer you; if you are excited it will calm you. William Ewart Gladstone.” She passed the set to Moira.
Once again, everyone clapped.
Deydie hurried up to the front. “And now the cutting of the cake. Graham?”
“One of the piper’s duties is to present his dirk for the couple to cut the cake,” Ross explained to Sadie.
The famous movie star came forward and pulled a long decorative knife from the scabbard hanging from his kilt belt.
“Wait a minute, Graham. That won’t do a’tall.” Ramsay strode to the front, and produced his grandfather’s sword from behind his back. “You agree, don’t ye, that mine is bigger than yeres?”
Graham laughed and stepped back, allowing Ramsay to hand off the sword to Moira. Andrew laid his hand atop hers and together they sliced the first two pieces of wedding cake. One they gave to Glenna, and the other they fed to each other, while Ailsa and Aileen began cutting the cake for the rest of the attendees.
Ross leaned into Sadie. “I’ll run up and get ye a piece, on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Ye save me a dance.”
Sadie snorted. “Like anyone else wants to dance with me.”
“Stay here,” Ross said. “I’ll be right back.”
As he wound his way through the crowd, the cake line grew longer and longer.
Deydie stepped in front of the table and hollered to the room. “Don’t fill up too much on sweets. Dominic has luncheon ready.” She motioned to a long table where a pot-holdered Bethia was arranging steaming pans.
Ross glanced over at Sadie and almost abandoned the cake line; Abraham Clacher was introducing his grandson Brodie Wallace to her.
The band began to play, and Andrew led Moira out on the floor for their first dance. A few moments later, Amy, Max, and Glenna joined them. A few beats later everyone changed partners and Coll took Amy into his arms, while Max gently led the pregnant Pippa onto the floor. He wouldn’t let her do more than lean against him as he swayed back and forth.
Ross finally reached the head of the cake line and grabbed two plates. But when he turned around to find Sadie, he saw she was on the dance floor, too . . . with Brodie! Ross set the plates back on the table, ready to tell Brodie to buzz off. This is my dance!
But Bonnie tapped him on the shoulder. “How about we get this party started?” She took his hand and pulled him onto the floor.
Bonnie, who worked at the pub, was always on the hunt for a man. Being promised to Pippa all those years had provided some protection against her advancements, but since Max and Pippa got married, she’d tried to reel Ross in on more than one occasion. She was pretty and buxom, but always overdone, constantly changing the style and color of her hair and painting her face. Ross glanced over at Sadie. Today was the first time he’d seen her wearing makeup. She looked nice, but he decided he liked her better without it.
Bonnie brought him out of his musing. “Do ye have plans for later?”
“Aye,” Ross said automatically.
“What kind of plans?” Bonnie was a persistent one.
“Fixing holes in the fishing nets,” Ross said flatly.
Bonnie looked around, searching for her next prospect, and her eyes landed on poor, unsuspecting Brodie. “I wonder what he’s up to tonight.”
The song came
to an end, and Bonnie shot off in Brodie’s direction.
Ross wasn’t much better; he wanted to snag Sadie before anyone else did.
Into his path stepped Maggie, with her sisters in tow. “Which one are ye going to dance with first?”
Ross was getting the terrible feeling that the rest of the afternoon would be like this. He should’ve seen it coming. Between Kit and the rest of Gandiegow, if he’d had an actual dance card, he was sure they would have filled it for him.
He didn’t get to answer before Rowena laid a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward. The next song started, a reel, and she dragged him onto the floor. He was thankful that the reel was fast so he wouldn’t have to listen to a bunch of small talk. Rowena was a little too loud for him, a little too pushy—a lot like Maggie, in fact. Maggie was a good sister-in-law, but he certainly didn’t want to be married to a lass like her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sadie being whirled around in Graham’s arms and felt a pang of jealousy. Ross looked around. Where the hell is Cait?
When the song ended, he was able to take only one step in Sadie’s direction to claim her for the next dance when Deydie insisted on dancing with him, and Sadie was nabbed by his own brother Ramsay. It’s beginning to feel like a conspiracy. But hadn’t they all been against him being alone with Sadie from the beginning?
When he saw Sadie make a plate of food, he got in line, too, hoping to sit beside her during the meal. But by the time he arrived at her table, Deydie and Bethia had taken up camp on both sides of her, and Ailsa and Aileen were sitting across. He decided to plant himself next to Sophie and Hugh instead, taking the opportunity to catch up on the news from their wool community, located an hour away.
After he cleared his dishes, he was, once again, passed from one woman to the next on the dance floor. And Sadie . . . she was passed around, too, but looked to be having a fine time. Well, he was happy the lass was enjoying herself.
To no one’s surprise, Brodie walked up to the band and took the microphone; they’d all been waiting for him to sing.
“Moira and Andrew,” Brodie said, “Deydie says it’s time for yere love song to send you on yere way. As for the rest of Gandiegow, the party will keep going.”
A love song. Ross swung around and located Sadie at the punch bowl. He hurried in her direction, but out of nowhere, Maggie thrust her little sister Sinnie in his path.
“Fair’s fair,” Maggie said. “Ye can’t do for one and not the other. I promised them both that ye’d take them around the floor.”
He worked very hard at not losing it with his sister-in-law. Did she not understand that he wanted to dance with only Sadie? But instead, he held out his hand to the blushing Sinnie. “May I have the honor?”
Sinnie took it as the slow dance began.
Sinnie was Rowena and Maggie’s opposite, her quietness music to a man’s ear. Before Kit came along, Maggie had tried to marry one of her sisters to Ramsay. Now she was hoping for Ross to take one of them off her hands. Neither would do. Rowena was too bossy, and Sinnie was too young. Although, wasn’t she the same age as Sadie?
His eyes sought out the American lass at the punch bowl, but she was gone . . . and found her dancing in Colin Spalding’s arms!
She was smiling up at the bloke as if he was some romantic hero for bringing the gray horse to town for Moira and all to see. Nonsense. The young gentleman farmer from up the road wasn’t a good match for her. He just wasn’t.
“Are ye all right?” Sinnie asked. “Are you angry about something? Didn’t the wedding set well with ye?”
He looked down at her. “Ye’re full of questions.”
She stared at her hand on his shoulder. “Once ye do as Maggie wants—dance with me and Rowena—then ye’re free to ask the American lass to dance.”
He was a little shocked. He never knew Sinnie to be so observant. Only quiet.
“Sorry,” he said. Sinnie deserved a more attentive dance partner. He twirled her out and then back. “What about you? Whatever happened to Davy the rich whisky maker?”
She laughed. “He was fun for a bit, but too full of his own comings and goings for my taste.”
“Is there someone here ye might fancy?” Her eyes darted away and Ross followed her glance. “Colin, eh?”
She looked over Ross’s opposite shoulder as if to ignore him, but her blush deepened.
“I’ll see what I can do to help.” Ross moved them in Colin’s direction. When they were close enough, he tapped on the other man’s shoulder. “Do ye mind if we switch?”
Colin smiled at Sinnie and Ross spun her into the man’s arms.
On the next beat, he took Sadie’s hand and tucked her in close, breathed her in, and relaxed. “Finally.”
She cuddled into him, and he felt at home.
“How are ye doing, lass?” he said into her hair. “Are ye having a good time?”
“The best,” she said.
“Are ye getting tired? Ready to go back to the quilting dorm?”
She nodded her head yes into his chest.
He danced them toward the entrance. As the song ended, he pushed them through the swinging door, and held her hand as they started down the stairs.
“Shouldn’t we tell Moira and Andrew good-bye?” she asked.
Ross kept walking. “I bet they have more important things on their mind than missing us.” He opened the next door and pulled them out into the night.
He took the path leading alongside the restaurant back toward the bluffs and the quilting dorm. When they were out of sight of the boardwalk, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
She was compliant, sweet, and intoxicating, but kissing her only made him hungry for more. Much more.
He pulled away and looked down. “The answer to yere question is yes.”
“And what was the question?” she said with a knowing smile.
“Ye wanted to ask me back to yere bed.”
She stroked his arms. “You’re feeling pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Aye.” He ran his hands through her silky hair. “I can feel the want in yere kiss. See it in yere eyes. Feel it in the way ye press up against me.”
“Really?” she said, cocking an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s what I’m feeling?”
“Don’t deny it, lass. I recognize it. Yere want matches my own.”
Sadie laughed and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I guess we better get to the dorm then.”
“And?” He held his breath. He needed to know for sure.
She tipped her head up and gazed into his eyes. “So you can join me in my bed.”
* * *
Sadie opened the door to Thistle Glen Lodge. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around Ross’s neck, and stared into his eyes, knowing this time would be different. This time she knew what was and what wasn’t. This wasn’t the beginning of Sadie’s happily-ever-after, just a beautiful moment in time. And this intense emotion passing between them was a product of Moira and Andrew’s wedding, a miasma of romance that would gently fade away. But she was going to enjoy every single moment until it did.
Without breaking eye contact, he picked her up, stepped inside, and shut the door with his foot—straight out of an old movie. Only then did he lean in for a gentle kiss. Yes, this time would be different.
He took her straight to the bedroom, but by the time they got there, the gentle kiss had worked itself into full-blown passion. He laid her on the bed and stepped back, running his hand through his hair and breathing hard. “Lass, we’re going to have to slow down.”
She kicked off her shoes. “Says who?”
“Last time I got carried away and went too fast.”
“Last time, you were perfect.” She crawled off the bed, feeling like a sex kitten, because this beautiful man looked absolutely miserable wit
h desire.
“Ye’re killing me. Ye know that?”
She shot him a seductive smile right before she pulled her dress over her head. She stood before him in bra and panties. “I like you looking at me.”
“Ah, lass, that’s good, because I so verra much like to be doing the looking.” He kept his eyes on her while he began unbuttoning his dress shirt.
“No,” she said. “Let me.” She moved forward and continued what he’d started.
He ran his hands down her arms to her back, his gentle touch costing him. She read him like a book. With every caress, another clue would pop up that he was on a slippery slope to losing control. His eyes dilated, his nostrils flared, and his gaze warned her that he had to have her . . . now.
She kissed his chest as she quickly undid his kilt belt. He took care of her bra.
“Next time,” he said, his breath short. He unfastened his kilt and let it fall to the ground. “I promise, next time—”
“Shhh,” she said. “It’s what I want, too. Now kiss me.”
He did. As he laid her on the bed, he reached for his sporran and retrieved what they needed. But instead of putting it on, he kissed her neck, then moved downward to her breasts, and lower still. He pulled her panties off and kissed her there. Again and again. She squirmed under his loving assault, and when she was sure she couldn’t take it anymore, she pulled on his shoulders.
“Please, Ross. I need you now.”
He smiled up at her. “I like it when ye say please.”
“This is no teasing matter,” she complained.
“I know, luv. I know.” He put the condom on and positioned himself above her.
Impatient, she pulled him down to her, joining them.
“Gawd,” he groaned as he moved. “Sadie, ye feel so good.”
If she could’ve spoken, she would’ve said he felt good, too. But he’d primed her too much. He pulled out, and when he slid in the next time, she came. Stars! Blinding lights! Fireworks! She felt every cliché. She was so overcome she was afraid she might cry.
“Aww, lass,” he murmured into her hair. “Ye’re so very beautiful.” He kissed her forehead and then her cheek. He pulled out. “Are you crying?”
The Trouble with Scotland Page 27