by Amy Jarecki
“About me?” Geordie clapped the chieftain on the shoulder. “Nah. My part of the plan was sound. The question is, how did you fare on your end?”
“You question me?” Coll threw back his head with a deep belly laugh. “Next time I’ll need a bigger challenge, old man.”
“Old man? What are you, one and twenty?” Fire suddenly replaced the fatigue in his eyes. “I can best you any day, ye aging pup.”
“Did you hear?” Annis squeezed in beside Coll and grasped Akira’s hands. “We dressed like you and led the redcoats into a trap.”
“You dressed like me?” Goodness, Akira had rarely seen her sister with such a broad grin.
“And I rode double with Lieutenant Oliver.” She flashed a huge smile at Geordie’s man-at-arms. “I couldn’t believe we were riding so fast, and the redcoats even shot at us, but we got away—”
“Shot at you?” She grimaced at at Geordie.
“Akira! My sweeting!” Uncle Bruno pushed his way through the crowd and wrapped her in a smothering embrace. “You look so much bonnier without your head and wrists locked in the pillory.”
“’Tis a lot more comfortable, too.” She held Bruno at arm’s length—goodness, he was dressed in orange-and-green striped breeches and a saffron shirt identical to those Geordie had been wearing. As a matter of fact, so were the minstrels behind him. “But where did you come from? You only ever visit at Yuletide.”
“The minstrels and I were passing through—and we discovered your duke needed some help freeing you from the jail.”
Moving her hands to her hips, Akira faced Geordie. “So you put Annis in danger? And what about Kynda stealing the key from Captain Weaver?”
The duke’s face fell. He looked like a setter caught being naughty. “Your uncle promised the lass would be safe every step of the way, else I would not have allowed it.”
Bruno looked even guiltier—more like a deerhound with his tail tucked between his legs. “Och, you ken Annis was in no real danger. After Kynda pinched the key and gave it to His Grace, the townsfolk swarmed the captain so he couldn’t see the pillory platform, then while the duke took you south, I caught the captain’s eye and headed due north with Annis—while two of the duke’s guardsmen took your ma, Scota, and Kynda straight up here.”
Rolling her eyes, Akira drew her hand to her forehead. “Oh, my word. I’m glad I wasn’t aware of all this at the time.”
“We had a good head start,” Bruno explained. “The dragoons had to fetch their horses, and ours were ready to ride.”
“Och, that makes me feel much better.” She rolled her eyes to Geordie. “How could you have allowed this?”
Mr. Aristocratic All-powerful Duke shrugged like a wee lad. “It was the best idea I’d heard since arriving in Dunkeld.”
“And no one can prove a thing,” added Sir Coll. “They cannot blame the duke because he was nowhere to be seen.”
“The townsfolk came to me, outraged.” Geordie slung his arm around Akira’s shoulder. “They all wanted to help you.”
“Me?”
He gave her a warm squeeze. “Aye. It seems you’ve healed many of them, and they haven’t forgotten.”
Dear Lord, so much ado just for her, and so many people gathered. Her gaze panned across the faces. “Where is Ma?”
Bruno motioned with his head. “By the fire with Scota and Kynda.”
“I’m here.” The crowd parted and Ma hobbled forward on her crutch, then pulled Akira into an embrace. “And I cannot tell you how happy I am to have you back in my arms, sweeting.”
Closing her eyes, Akira breathed in the homey scent of Ma. “I cannot believe you let them do it. Weren’t you afraid?”
“Aye, but we needed to stand together to save you.” Ma pulled away and cupped her cheek, her brown eyes shining with happiness. “And His Lordship was right when he said this was the best plan.”
Akira chewed her bottom lip. It all seemed so dreamlike, and everyone she loved was right there. Mayhap it was the shock of everything happening at once, but that old hollow feeling spread through her stomach again. “We cannot return to Dunkeld, can we?”
“Never,” Geordie said. “And I’m not allowing you out of my sight ever again.”
She nodded and looked to her toes. Being the duke’s mistress had its merits, and her sisters would live such better lives. Moreover, Ma would live in comfort. And by her life, she loved the man standing beside her.
Ma swatted Geordie’s arm. “Afore the whisky starts flowing, I need a word with you.”
The duke gaped like he’d been affronted, though his mien quickly softened and he offered his elbow with a polite bow of his head. “M’lady.”
* * *
Geordie didn’t escort Laini far, given her limp. They stopped in the shadows between two tents and he gently patted her shoulder, his heart flitting with anticipation. “Please tell me I have proven the depth of my love for Akira.”
She chuckled in a low, raspy voice. “Many a man would have given up, and you did not. You took charge, you met with the marquis, you tried every peaceful resolution available to you, and when that failed, you acted swiftly with all the power owed to you as a duke of the kingdom.”
He stood a bit taller. The woman had been fairly free with her jibes. This string of compliments was a side of her Geordie hadn’t seen before. “So tell me, where is this magical key to eternal happiness?”
She thumped him in the chest. “’Tis right there in your heart, m’lord.”
Dear Lord, there was absolutely no doubt from whom Akira had inherited her gumption.
“You will marry my daughter in a Gypsy wedding. It will be binding in the eyes of God. She will be called your wife, and she will sleep in your bed and provide you with my grandchildren.”
“A Gypsy wedding?”
“Aye—and my brother, Bruno, is the one to preside over it.”
“Is such a thing legal?”
“I married in a Gypsy wedding and nary a soul questioned our nuptials.”
Geordie grinned, his mind racing.
What if the queen discovers I wedded the lass without her permission? What would she do to me? Try to annul it? Hardly. Ban me from court for a year? I’d be overjoyed.
He peered at the woman standing across from him. “If a Gypsy wedding can be held without permission of the bishop or queen, then I imagine neither party’s move to annul it would be binding?”
“You are right.” Laini shook a knowing finger.
“There would be no applications, no list of invitations, no royal ball, nothing except family and Clan Gordon.” A weight lifted from his shoulders. “It would be like ancient times, where the clan chief had all the say. To hell with the usurping queen in London. No one needs to ken I intend to wed my Gypsy rose.”
Laini patted his cheek. “We’ll do it here at Dun Shith—the Hill of the Fairies. The magic will bring your marriage good fortune.”
“Then we’ll wed on the morrow.” Grinning wider than he had in months, Geordie picked up Laini and swung her round, her crutch clanking to the ground.
“Put me down, ye big brute.”
“Oh no.” He spun her twice more. “You’ve just made me the happiest man in the Highlands.”
* * *
Akira wrung her hands while Geordie and Ma were absent for their secret exchange. Ma could be a mite domineering, and the duke probably wasn’t accustomed to taking brazen remarks from an old Gypsy woman.
But a sigh of relief whistled through her lips when they returned grinning like they’d just pinched an apple tart from a street vendor.
Geordie strode straight up to her and grasped her hand. “I have something to say,” he announced, loud enough for all to hear, though his gaze never left her face.
As the hum of the crowd died down, he dropped to his knee.
Gooseflesh rose across her skin, every nerve ending alive. She couldn’t breathe.
“Miss Akira, you saved me from certain death. You rode into da
nger when you could have fled. You stood by my side only because you cared for a wounded man. You are a healer who puts others before yourself. In my eyes you are the most beautiful woman in all of Scotland both inside and out. I love you and will love only you forever.”
A tear slid down her cheek and her lips trembled.
He smoothed his hand over hers. “I have no ring in my sporran, but I give you my word you shall have rings and jewels to your heart’s delight. Please, please, please tell me that you will be my wife.”
Her throat closed, while tears of happiness poured down her face. She nodded. “I will,” she squeaked, as he pulled her into his strong arms and wrapped her in warmth. “How?”
“There will be a Gypsy wedding at the fairy standing stone on the morrow.” Ma clapped her hands with a happy grin.
Akira gaped at her mother. All her life, the woman had spurned the old ways, telling her children they were Scottish born and nothing else mattered. Never in Akira’s life would she have thought about marrying in secret and in a Gypsy ceremony. It was scandalous—and ever so delicious.
The crowd bellowed their approval. Coll poured the whisky while Bruno and his band of minstrels provided the music. Who needed an enormous hall when they had a fire and stars twinkling above and were surrounded by the people she loved and a carpet of purple, green, and violet? They celebrated well into the night, while Akira stayed glued to her man.
Until Ma intervened. “Come. You will sleep beside me tonight, my sweeting.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
There had been no mirror in which to regard his image when Geordie dressed for his wedding day. But it didn’t seem to matter as he stood atop Dun Shith at the standing stone of Scotland’s ancestors, wearing a plaid, a velvet doublet atop a linen shirt and cravat, his hair pulled back and tied at the nape.
“Are you ready, Your Grace?” Bruno asked.
Butterflies swarmed in his stomach. “Aye.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Geordie watched down the hill, where a footpath wound through the trees, edged with grass so green it could have been part of a painting. Wildflowers danced along the trail, teasing him as if they knew he had more than a few wee butterflies flitting inside. He rocked up and down on his toes. Despite his momentary jitters, he’d been more certain about making this commitment than he’d been about anything in his life.
His wedding to Elizabeth had been filled with pomp—an empty mockery. There had been the betrothal and announcements, balls, and petitions to King William. Geordie had never looked upon the union as anything but a duty. Elizabeth, too.
But he didn’t want to think of that ever again.
Today he stood in the chilly morning air, on grass kissed by Scotland’s dew, surrounded by clan and kin. Birds sang and wisps of cloud sailed above. He inhaled the crisp scent of the Highlands. Heather and wildflowers brought the scene alive, as if butterfly fairies actually floated amidst the crowd, touching every shoulder with magical droplets of happiness. This was how a wedding should be, a joining of two souls under God’s creation without all the pageantry, without meddlesome in-laws and stuffy formalities dictating behaviors.
He drew in a deep breath of clean air just as Akira stepped from behind a tree.
His exhale stuttered and his heart swelled. Everything faded into a blur—the flowers, the grass, the guests, the fairies.
His bride was the most stunning creature he had ever seen. Her black locks were adorned with a wreath of late-blooming mountain heather. The rich violet brought out the vivid color of her indigo eyes. She wore her tresses unbound and they kissed her hips with her graceful gait as she walked toward him. She wore a simple blue kirtle, laced in the front, and to Geordie, it was the most flattering gown he’d ever laid eyes upon. In her hands she held a posy of violet heather and fern, its ribbons of lace flowing with the breeze. And most beautifully, on her face, she wore a radiant smile—the very smile with which he’d fallen in love.
When she stepped into the circle of stones, her eyes twinkled with the sunlight, and a piper began a Highland ballad as Geordie watched her grow nearer.
When, finally, she joined him, he took her soft fingers in his. “Good morn, mo leannan.”
“Good morn.” An adorable blush blossomed in her cheeks as the bagpipes faded with the gentle breeze.
“I’ve never seen a woman so lovely.”
She gave him a wee wink. “And I’ve never seen a man so braw.”
Bruno cleared his throat and held up a stole. “Give me your hands.”
Akira’s uncle bound their wrists together while Annis and Scota sprinkled fresh earth in a circle around them.
Akira’s pulse beat a steady rhythm, warming Geordie’s wrist as Bruno held his hand under their wrists and waited for the lassies to finish making their circle.
When they completed their task, Bruno addressed the bride and groom. “The circle has been cast. You are now standing upon sacred ground, encircled by Mother Earth in a ring that cannot be broken. Do you understand this?”
“Aye,” they said together.
“The circle itself is an infinite thing. It is magical and never-ending. It will never change and yet will always be adaptable.” Bruno swayed to and fro. So did Akira. When she nudged him, Geordie followed.
“Like the circle, love is infinite, with no boundaries and no restrictions. Whether light or dark, it flourishes and blooms. Love is. It cannot be forced. It knows no limits. It cannot be taken away. Your love is a gift you grant each other with reverence and honor.”
Bruno tightened the stole around their wrists. “You must pledge to each other your sacred gift of love.”
When Bruno nodded at Geordie, he took the cue. “I pledge my love to you alone.”
Akira blessed him with a smile. “And I pledge my love to you. You are the only man I have ever or will ever love.”
Bruno raised their joined hands above his head. “When two people come together because their souls have found mutual love, it is the most sacred gift of all. They are joined as man and wife in the eyes of the heavens—in the stars above and on the earth of our mothers. They are two souls coming together to form one single being, two hearts beating in perfect rhythm.”
The brash Gypsy minstrel with his untamed hair unwrapped the stole with a cockeyed grin. “Congratulations. You are married.”
Geordie’s heart soared like stars.
Never in his life had he experienced such happiness.
Wrapping his woman in his arms, he dipped his chin and plied her with a real kiss. Not a kiss fit for a church ceremony, but a meaningful connection of lips. An act of sealing their bond—one that would never be severed.
* * *
Ever since she stepped from behind the tree and joined Geordie in the circle of matrimony, Akira had floated like a cloud. Everything seemed magical, as if she’d indeed been touched by the fairies. During the ceremony, standing in the circle of stones, she could have sworn they were floating. It wasn’t until after Geordie kissed her that she’d realized her feet were planted on the ground.
And now, music swirled around them as people danced and made merry, eating venison and drinking MacDonell whisky.
Sitting beside her on a plaid, Geordie bit into a honeyed crisp, then held it to her lips. “Mm. Made this morn by the locals—try some.”
When she nipped a bite, the pastry melted on her tongue. “Mm, it tastes sweet and buttery.”
He held up a pewter tankard. “Sip.”
The whisky tasted mellow with the crisp, but it still burned a bit going down. Akira wiped her mouth.
“Did you like it?” he asked.
“Very much.” Right now nothing could spoil her merriment. How did this happen? She’d married a duke?
No, not a duke, but a braw Highlander who will be mine forever.
Oliver stopped by their plaid. “The horses are ready, Your Grace.”
Akira knit her brows. “Horses?”
Geordie grinned like he did wh
en he had a devilish scheme. “You don’t expect to spend your wedding night in a tent, now do you?”
Her heart skipped a beat. Och aye, she loved it when his eyes flashed with a wee bit of mischief. “You have a plan?”
“I always have a plan.”
And since the horses were saddled, it must mean they were traveling farther than a mile or two. She leaned closer. “But what of Ma and my sisters?”
Geordie affected a frown. “I didn’t marry them.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he brushed her cheek with the back of his finger. “Not to worry, mo leannan. Oliver will ensure they meet us at Huntly.” He winked. “But now we ride. I want to take advantage of what’s left of daylight.”
They slipped away quietly. Once they were mounted, Akira asked, “Where are we headed?”
He took a trail leading northwest. “My hunting lodge.”
“You have property up here?”
“Aye, I have a great deal of property—some even the queen doesn’t ken about.”
They rode for an hour, maybe two. Akira lost track of the time. It didn’t matter. She was with her man, her Highlander. Her family was safe and fed and warm. She had not a worry in the world.
When, finally, the path opened to a clearing, Geordie stopped his horse.
“Good heavens,” Akira said, staring at a castle with turrets on two sides. “You call this a hunting lodge?”
“Aye, ’tis a bit rustic, but I thought you wouldn’t mind—besides, it’s better than a tent.”
Inside, the fire was lit in the hall—in an immense fireplace higher than Akira’s head. “Is there a watchman?”
Geordie tugged her hand. “Aye, but he will not be bothering us this eve. Come. I’ve a flagon of wine waiting in the lord’s chamber.”
Up the wheeled stairwell, Akira followed him, their footsteps resounding as if they were the only two people in the Highlands. He led her down a passageway, opened a door, and bowed. “M’lady.”
