Celtic Knot

by MacLeod, Shannon

  Little Davy regarded her with solemn green eyes and tugged on her skirt to get her attention. After looking to Ian for reassurance his nephew said, “Uncle says Mickey Mouse lives here and maybe if we asked you nice, you’d take us to see him.”

  “I think Disney World would be a wonderful place for us to visit,” Lily agreed, giving Ian a wink.

  Sean gave Ian a nudge with his elbow, eliciting a soft woof. “Plus keeping up with you three would be good practice for your uncle,” he said, and ruffled Davy’s hair.

  Another Kelly, judging by the eye color, stepped in front of her. Shorter than Ian by a scant inch or two, he had stylishly tousled auburn hair that reached just past his collar to his shoulders, a light beard and a huge smile. Taking her hand, he kissed her fingertips gallantly. “And I’m James, Ian’s younger, more charming, and much handsomer brother.”

  Lily giggled and said, “It’s a pleasure. I’m a big fan.”

  Ian’s eyes flared in dismay. “Aw, no Lily, don’t tell him that. He’s already too full of himself for his own good. Didn’t I tell you she was beautiful, Seamus? Now put her hand down before I’m forced to belt you a good one.”

  James did, but everyone laughed when he made a great show of sneaking a quick kiss on Lily’s cheek.

  An angelic-looking blonde stepped up next. Seeing the luminous green eyes, Lily said without hesitation, “And you must be Heather.”

  Heather nodded. “I am delighted to meet you. Thanks to you, I’ll only have one brother left to worry about,” she said, grinning as she tossed her long mane of curls over her shoulder, “but that one’s generated more worry for than the other two combined. We have to get him settled down next.”

  “Good luck with that,” James said with a hearty laugh. “Haven’t met a woman yet who will put up with me and my wicked ways.”

  Ian exchanged a knowing look with Lily. She gave James a sweet smile. “Well, things have been known to change, haven’t they?”

  Ian looked the other way, but she caught the grin creeping over his face.

  * * * *

  The men offered advice and encouragement as Dan did the honors grilling the thick steaks. Meg and the ladies wrangled baked potatoes, Caesar salads and piping hot rolls to the crowded table. The conversation was spirited and warm as the families chatted back and forth getting to know one another, and Lily could tell Dan had been right–this was a passionate group of people who loved each other very much.

  About halfway through the meal, Heather spoke up from one end of the extended table, calling to Ian, seated next to Lily at the other end. “You’ll never guess who I ran into last week on the Rue Mouffetard,” she said.

  “The way you drive, it could have been anybody,” James catcalled from midway down the table.

  She waved him off. “Quiet, James.”

  Ian thought about it. “In Paris? I’m scared to ask. Who?”

  “Chantal,” Heather said, grinning.

  James hooted. “The mad Frenchwoman? A menace to society, that one. Saw her at a party in London about six months ago, and do you know that wild-eyed bitch…”

  The reaction from every Kelly present was instantaneous. “Language!”

  Lily couldn’t help but laugh when James continued without missing a beat. “Excuse me, that dear but delusional young woman followed me around for the entirety of the evening determined to pry out my elder brother’s whereabouts.”

  “She was an old girlfriend from years ago,” Ian explained. “When I broke it off with her, my entire family threw a party that lasted for weeks.”

  James summed it up even better. “She was an avaricious little troll, Lily, and deadly intent upon marrying Ian, regardless of his feelings about it.”

  Heather smiled and warned, “Shut it, James,” before going on with her story. “I mentioned you were getting married. Did you honestly tell her you were joining the order?”

  “Yes, my child,” Ian intoned, folding his hands piously. “I was desperate for her to go away and find somebody else to make miserable, and if it took my becoming a priest then so be it.”

  There was a definite snort from center table. “You’d have made a bloody awful monk.” James snickered.

  Ian bristled. “Shut up, Seamus. Like you’ve got any room at all to talk about ….”

  “Enough, the both of you,” Moire said in an authoritative voice, bringing the budding ruckus to a sliding halt. “Lily will get the wrong idea about this family and as close as I am to marrying this one off.” She jerked her head toward Ian. “I’d rather you not be scaring her. That can wait until after the wedding, thank you very much.” She picked up her wine glass and said, “To the lovely couple–Slainte!”

  “Slainte!” came the chorus as the glasses were raised and emptied. Ian captured Lily’s hand in his, pressing it to his lips for a kiss. “Not to worry, my dear, there’s not a woman alive who could turn my head from you,” he murmured.

  “Anyway, Chantal wanted to know if…if the bride minded if she came to the wedding,” Heather finished in a rush.

  All conversation stopped and every eye turned to Lily to gauge her reaction. Lily dabbed at her mouth daintily with her napkin and said, “Heather, I don’t mind at all if she comes to the wedding. Of course, if she comes within ten feet of my Ian, I hope she won’t mind my kicking her into the middle of next week.”

  A stunned silence filled the room. Finally, James spoke up as the uproarious laughter began. “I like her, Ian. I think she’s going to fit in quite well, don’t you?”

  35

  And so it was, on the eve of the feast of Beltane, family and friends gathered at the Castle Wilde list field. At twilight, the torches were lit and the soft music signaled everyone to take their seats under the full moon. The honored guests were escorted by ushers Sean, James and Renaud. In keeping with the medieval theme, the men of the wedding party were clad in jewel-toned velvet doublets, black trews and tall boots.

  The robed minister stood at the center of the stage, prayer book in hand. From the side of the riser, the best man followed the groom as he slowly climbed the steps. Dan sported an emerald green doublet and a wide, happy grin. Ian, however, was deathly pale in his nervousness, his pallor matching his white linen shirt. Fidgeting, he tugged at his black velvet doublet, adorned by the livery collar of ornate Celtic knots Lily had surprised him with the night before.

  After completing their usher responsibilities, the groomsmen took their places on stage, James in crimson, Sean in royal blue and Renaud in deepest purple. Little Ryan in his gold doublet walked solemnly down the aisle clutching the white satin pillow which held the wedding bands.

  A collective sigh passed over the guests when the first lady of the court made her appearance, carrying her bouquet of spring wildflowers. Heather took slow measured steps down the aisle, her purple renaissance gown matching Renaud’s doublet. Leslie came next, her royal blue gown complimenting her fair Highlands complexion.

  “Aw, would you look how beautiful my Meghan is,” Dan whispered when Meg, the matron of honor, came into view wearing her emerald green gown. Her slight bulge was becoming noticeable and she carried her wildflower bouquet close to her body, resting atop her rounded tummy.

  Beth, the maid of honor, glided up the aisle next, her crimson gown matching her fiery tresses. She grinned and gave Ian a saucy wink when she neared the steps, drawing a chuckle from him.

  The final lady was the elfin Siobhan, the flower girl clad in gold. She smiled like an angel, scattering rose petals on her way to join the rest of the group.

  The music stopped and for a moment the only sound was the wind through the trees. A wave began when the people in the back rows stood and it spread all the way to the front. The music started again, and the gasps of appreciation reached Ian onstage. After a few moments, Dan reached out to touch Ian on the arm and whispered, “There she is.”

  Ian raised his eyes to see his beloved Lily on the arm of her father, and it was like gazing directly into th
e sun. She was so beautiful, so radiant, it hurt to look at her. Hot, exultant tears stung his eyes and it took all his effort to stop himself from rushing down and sweeping her into his arms. Her flowing lace gown was a vision in white with sleeves trailing to the ground, and a crown of delicate white flowers rested on her unbound hair.

  She gave him a trembling smile as Dr. Evans escorted her up the steps, coming to stand between Ian and his daughter. The minister cleared his throat and began to read the vows from centuries past:

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, instituted of God and into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”

  “Her mother and I,” said her father, and placed her hand on Ian’s outstretched one. The two men’s gazes met and Ian couldn’t help but notice the dampness gathering on his new father in laws cheeks. With a proud smile Dr. Evans turned and walked quickly down the steps to join his wife.

  “Ian, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony. Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, as long as ye both shall live?”

  Ian answered, “I will,” and smiled tenderly when Lily repeated the same to him, her shining eyes filled with adoration.

  Facing each other, they spoke their vows.

  “I, Ian, take thee, Lily, to my wedded wife…”

  “I, Lily, take thee, Ian, to my wedded husband…” and to each other they pledged “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ’til death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

  “Who has the rings?” the minister asked. The little ring bearer stepped forward and presented their rings to the couple. They slipped the wide gold bands on each other’s finger. “With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow,” Ian finished.

  The minister closed his prayer book and lowered it, waiting. The guests began to murmur amongst themselves in confusion, “But he didn’t pronounce them man and wife?” The silence fell again as a solitary hooded figure made his way up the center of the aisle and stood at the foot of the stage facing the guests. He threw back his hood, revealing an old man with a shock of gray hair and a long beard. Pulling a small book from a pocket hidden deep in his robe, he read in a rich, sonorous voice:

  “May this place now be consecrated and made sacred, for we gather here in a ritual of love, honor and devotion with two who would be bonded forever. Ian and Lily, please come forward and stand here before the Lord and Lady.”

  Hands clasped, they descended the stage and stood before the high priest. He walked in a slow circle around them, arms raised in supplication. Turning to the east he called, “Spirits of Air, be here with us now. With your nimble fingers, sew tightly the bonds between these two kindred souls.”

  He faced the south. “Be here with us now, Spirits of Fire. Give their love, their desire, and their devotion for each other your all consuming and enduring passion.”

  To the west, he invoked, “Spirits of Water, be here with us now. Give them your immeasurable depths of love and richness of the body, of the soul and of the spirit.”

  Finally turning to the north, he said, “Be here with us now, Spirits of Earth. Let your strength, your solidity, and your constancy be theirs now, forever and always.”

  The air crackled and hummed with the energy being raised in the circle. “Do you come here of your own free will to acknowledge before the Lord and Lady the bond shared between you?” the priest asked.

  Their faces aglow, they answered in unison. “We do.”

  “Then I bid you to clasp hands, look into each other’s eyes, and speak your vows.”

  Taking her hands, Ian said, “I, Ian, in the name of the Lord and Lady, and because of the deep and abiding love I have for you in my heart, take you and you alone, Lily, to be my beloved wife. I promise to honor our union with words of adoration and actions of consideration. I pledge to work together with you, and to grow with you as your husband, your friend, your lover and your partner. My heart, my body and my soul, I give all to thee. Now, forever, and always, so mote it be.”

  Tears escaped her eyes as she repeated her vows to him. “I, Lily, in the name of the Lord and Lady, and because of the deep and abiding love I have for you in my heart, take you and you alone, Ian, to be my beloved husband…”

  Taking their joined hands, the priest pulled a long braided cord of many colors from his robe, and wrapped it loosely around their hands. “Here before their loved ones, Ian and Lily have sworn their vows to each other,” he intoned. “With this cord, I bind them to the vows they have made. The binding is not tied, so neither is restricted by the other, and the binding is only compelled by the strength of their love and devotion for each other.”

  The minister moved down the steps to join the priest as he gave the final blessing. “Gracious Lord, gentle Lady, grant your blessings upon these two, who have come before you to celebrate the journey of their lives. As so as those of this world and the next are witness to this rite…” the two clergymen spoke together, “We now pronounce you husband and wife.” Smiling at Ian, the minister said, “You may kiss your bride.”

  Ian pulled Lily close, overcome with an overwhelming rush of emotions and memories. The Castle was gone, and they were all alone in the beautiful verdant meadow surrounded by wildflowers and tall grass. The hawk cried as it circled overhead, and they shielded their eyes against the brilliant sunlight to watch it fly away, its task complete. Ian bent his head to hers and spoke softly against her lips. Lily echoed his tender words. “Mo anum cara.” My forever love.

  Shannon MacLeod

  In between writing and daydreaming about sexy Celts, Shannon MacLeod lives a life of servitude to two spoiled cats. She enjoys pondering the mysteries of Tarot, rainy days, good music, lively craic and spending long hours gazing at her beloved ocean. An avid wearer of dangerously high heels, she has an unnatural obsession with movies featuring talking animals. Her previous credits include The ShadowFox Tarot–writing as Jennifer ShadowFox–and some thankfully unpublished bad poetry.

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  Lyrical Press books are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2012 Shannon MacLeod

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  First Electronic Edition: January 2013

  ISBN-13: 9781616504298