The Love of Her Life (Highlander Heroes Book 6)

by Rebecca Ruger

  Katie unwrapped her shawl and hung it next to the door, sighing with her exhaustion though the day was yet half over. Henry sat at the table with three well-hewn long sticks and plenty of feathers he’d collected all around Swordmair. Elle had provided those arrow shafts and had charged him with fletching the feathers, had told him any good archer must ken how to make his own arrows.

  “Elle’s going to have a baby,” Henry said.

  Katie sensed something in his tone, not quite displeasure, but certainly not a happiness. “Hm, so I hear.”

  “She’ll probably not be a soldier anymore.”

  “She may not. But then, she’ll be somebody’s mam, and that’s the most important job of all.”

  “She dinna want a girl bairn, said boys are easier.”

  “Aye, that might be true. You certainly were a very easy babe and child to raise.” When he gave no response to this, she wondered, “Are you excited for her, to become a mam? I think she’s nervous.”

  Henry screwed up his face but didn’t lift it from his task at the table, winding a linen thread around and around to hold the feathers in the nocks. He huffed and unwound the whole thing when one of the feathers had slipped out of place, and then answered Katie. “Elle dinna get nervous. She’s verra brave.”

  “Isn’t the fletching usually accomplished with some kind of glue to set the feathers before tying it off?”

  “Aye but Elle said when I’m a soldier and need to either repair my arrows in the field, or make my own best I can, I willna have no glue on hand. I need to learn how to do it without glue. She also said I need to hope I dinna run out of arrows.”

  Katie grinned.

  “I hope Elle still is a soldier sometimes,” he said then. “I like training with her. Who’s going to teach me about the sword fighting and using the daggers like they do?”

  Ah, now it made sense.

  “Henry, by the time you’re old enough to lift a sword, I’d wager Elle’s babe will be old enough that his mother might have some time to teach you.”

  “Everything’s changing.”

  “Aye, it certainly is.” After another moment, while he continued to struggle affixing the feathers to the shaft, Katie noted, “I was fairly certain you were pleased with the big change, my wedding Alec.”

  “Aye. I like Alec—not as much as Elle though. And I like sleeping up in the keep. Maddie is real nice. She’s funny, too, but I dinna think she means to be.”

  He understood Alec’s mom pretty well then, for his age.

  “Henry, things will change constantly, all your life. Some will be good—like coming to Swordmair. Some might make you sad—like not getting to spend so much time with Elle once she delivers her bairn. Some might be frightening or even unwanted, but we must do the best we can. Always. And you can make your own changes, if a certain one didn’t suit you.”

  “Aye.” He dropped his hands, let the linen thread and the feathers rest on the table. “Mam, I always wished da’ were here. I dinna like no’ having one. But...if he’d been with us at Dalserf, we’d no’ have come to Swordmair, would we? Least, that’s what Maddie said.”

  No, they would not have. “That’s very possible, Henry. And it doesn’t mean you wouldn’t want your own da’ or that you love him any less because you’re happy here.”

  “Aye, Maddie said that, too.”

  “But are you...curious or confused about anything else?”

  His small shoulders lifted and fell. “Nae, but can I go back to the keep? I canna figure this out. I need Elle to help me.”

  “Aye. I’ll see you at supper then.”

  She watched him leave, not overly concerned for his short-lived melancholy. Mayhap it had been settled. Henry was usually forthright, would have let her know if something else had been bothering him.

  She didn’t worry about him. Life was just too good here. He was so enamored of Maddie and Elle, had made good friends with the village lads, had a solid and easy relationship with Alec, and Katie had even come upon Henry and the laird in some cheery conversation the other day.

  She pulled herself up from the table and gathered the nearly-finished gown she only hoped would please—and fit—Eleanor.

  IT RAINED ON HER WEDDING day.

  Katie couldn’t have cared less.

  She stood in the middle of her cottage, clad only in her best chemise. Her feet were bare and her hair was loose. She stared over at the wedding dress laid across the bed. It was lovely, the cotton soft and smooth, the light sage green and underskirt of ivory more fine and delicate than anything Katie had ever owned. The vendor had called it a cotehardie, which meant nothing to Katie but that she thought it must define the form-fitting style and the breakaway skirt, where the ivory peeked out. Katie especially appreciated the embroidered emerald threads on the fitted sleeves and hem and along the neckline. She thought it was stunning.

  She wasn’t ready to dress though. Not yet.

  She sat once again at the table and finished up the last item on her list for today. She’d had neither enough coin or any idea what she might present to Alec as a wedding gift and only last night, when despair had nearly come, had an idea dawned on her. She laid the brooch onto the center of the kerchief she’d embellished near midnight last night, folding the linen all around it. When that was done, she wrapped this inside a sheet of vellum she’d bade Henry beg from Edric first thing this morning and tied the gift with a piece of lace.

  A knock sounded at her door and before she could answer Elle stepped inside.

  Katie stood just as Eleanor said, not without a whiff of awkwardness, “Mistress said you’d want your friends with ye now. I dinna ken why you need help getting dressed. Same as every other day, put your arms in the sleeves and pull it over your head.”

  Katie grinned. Eleanor would be no help to settle the anxious bride it seemed, but Katie didn’t mind helping to make her feel less awkward. “Elle, I’m glad you’re here. I’m feeling a bit nervous, and honestly, a wee bit excited. It’s good to share these things with friends, aye?”

  “How would I ken?”

  Katie shrugged. “I’m not sure. Before now, I’ve never had any true friends, either, but I suppose it must be that way.” She lifted her hands with excitement then. “Oh, Elle. I have something for you.” She fetched the linen wrapped surprise from her work counter and approached Eleanor again, hugging the item to her barely clad chest. “Now, you will not hurt my feelings at all if you hate it, or even if you aren’t...well, here.” She stretched out her hands, thrusting it at Elle.

  Her brow crinkling, Elle didn’t take the package but said, “Ye dinna give things on yer own wedding. Ye receive them.”

  Undeterred, Katie pushed it further, explaining, “I was sorry that we didn’t find anything at the market for you to wear that would have done justice to your height. But I did not want you to completely give up on wearing a dress again.” At Elle’s continued frown, Katie said, “I made it.”

  Eleanor’s bottom lip fell. She lifted the frown to Katie. But she knew her friend well, knew Elle wouldn’t want any fuss, would be awkward trying to show gratitude, which was unnecessary anyway, so she rushed on, “Honestly, if you’re not ready, or you think it’s awful, I won’t be troubled. I promise.”

  “You’re an arse,” Elle accused, but she finally took the package. Gingerly, she unraveled the linen, revealing the dark blue gown. The frown only intensified as she unfurled the folded piece and held it up to her front. “You did this?”

  “I did. I had some help.” She could hear them now, getting closer.

  “But it seems it might fit. You guessed well.” So much trepidation in her voice.

  “Again, I had some help. From our other friends.”

  No sooner had these words been put out than the door opened again, and in walked Agnes and two of her daughters, and Ann and Margaret and Sarah. Their hands were filled with more fabrics and flowers, and Sarah held a pair of creamy silk shoes.

  Without preamble, Agn
es sized up both Elle and the dress she still held against her front, and said, “Aye, we got it right then.”

  Ann begged of Eleanor, “Can I do your hair? Agnes used her age to assert that she should be the one to fix Katie’s,” she said with some petulance.

  Eleanor returned her startled gaze to Katie, who waited with fantastic hope.

  Eleanor smiled at her while she answered Ann, “Why the hell no’? If she’s brave enough to marry the MacBriar, I ken I might get my hair brushed out.”

  Katie clapped her hands together with her pleasure.

  “Come on, lasses, plenty to do,” called Agnes with great cheer. “We’ve a bride to get ready.”

  “DINNA TOUCH IT,” ALEC said through gritted teeth. Catching himself, he shooed his mother’s hands away from his plaid. “It’s fine, mam. Let it go.”

  “Lad’s nervous, bride,” said his father, brushing repeatedly and needlessly at the fabric of Alec’s sleeve. “Leave him be.”

  At his side, Malcolm advised, “Hold your breath. Count to ten. First and only bairn they’re seeing wed. Let them fuss.”

  Sighing, Alec closed his eyes and counted to ten. “They’re still here,” he said when he opened his eyes.

  Malcolm chuckled. “Dinna take your own whipped nerves out on your da’ and mam.”

  Completely ignoring Malcolm and Alec’s back and forth, Maddie MacBriar said, “Alec, I said that ye needed the boots shined. I told ye to get them to—”

  “Mam, stop. I did. They’re fine.”

  Malcolm wondered aloud, “What the feck are ye nervous about anyhow?”

  “Language, Malcolm,” Maddie cautioned.

  “Aye, sorry, ma’am.”

  “I’m no’ nervous.”

  “Wedding jitters,” Maddie said. “The laird had them, too.”

  “Bah!” Harrumphed the laird. “I was no’ nervous. It’s just too much waiting, aye, son? Takes all bluidy day and all ye want to do is take your new bride up the stairs and—”

  “Aye!” Alec concurred, hoping his father stopped speaking. “Too much bluidy standing around. And where’s the cleric? Has he come yet?”

  A new voice chimed in from behind the small group. “Christ, he’s a mess.”

  He whirled and found, to his immense delight, both Lachlan Maitland and Iain McEwen standing inside the hall. That had been Iain, giving him grief.

  Alec didn’t care. He rushed his friends, and all three embraced fondly, as any of them so rarely did with any other person—mayhap save their own wives.

  They broke the tight bear hug but kept their heads huddled together, their gazes searching and heartfelt, always.

  Lachlan said between them, “We’ve come to take you away. Arrived just in time I see.”

  “Take them two away, I’ll be fine,” Alec assured him, referring to his parents.

  “Dinna ever wish that,” Iain cautioned.

  With his hand still around Iain’s neck Alec said, “You ken I would never. I’m glad you’ve come. Both of you.”

  “We shouldn’t have,” Lachlan said. “You dinna come to my wedding.”

  “Nor mine,” Iain said, lifting his brow.

  They straightened, releasing each other, but remained close.

  “Aye, you talk to Robert Bruce about that.”

  “Just poking at you,” Lachlan said. “First thing your mam said when she came to Hawkmore was, You ken he’d be here if he could.”

  Iain said, “Jesu, when was the last time we were together, all three?”

  “Stirling?” Alec guessed.

  Lachlan shook his head. “Earnside.”

  “Could’ve done without that one.”

  Alec recalled the actual truth then, sadly correcting them, “England, when Wallace was taken.”

  Lachlan blew out a rough breath. “Aye, when we met up with MacGregor and Kincaid and MacKenna.”

  “For all the good it did us,” Iain grumbled, “despite having all those numbers.”

  “No, no, no.”

  All three turned to find Magdalena MacBriar standing behind them, her hands on her hips, her scowl fierce, even as she was dwarfed by these three men.

  “There’ll be no talk of war,” she dictated. “No mention of king or country or those damn English.”

  “Language, ma’am,” Malcolm called, a chuckle in his voice.

  He stepped in to greet the two men he’d known nearly as long as Alec. And then Lach and Iain gave their greetings to Alec’s parents, welcomed warmly and showing a matching affection.

  Iain said to Alec’s mother. “But the king is on his way, Maddie.”

  “Dinna ye fun with me, Iain McEwen. Ye want the bridegroom’s mam in a puddle on the floor, giving me a fright like that?”

  One corner of Lachlan’s mouth lifted as he threw his thumb over his shoulder, “He was right behind us, Maddie. Should be here any minute.”

  “Why do you three always want to give her such grief?” Alexander MacBriar huffed. “For decades now, since you were in short pants, always playing games with her.”

  Iain leaned forward and said in a low voice to Alec, “Aye, but he sends his regards, said if it had been a smaller gathering, he’d have come.”

  Alec understood. It was a dangerous time to be king. To Iain, he said, “I heard he gave away your bride.”

  “He did.”

  Alec grinned. “That when he stumbled into your fight?”

  “Aye, did you hear that? I still think about that, most unbelievable thing I’d ever seen.”

  “Jesu, where’s my head?” Alec exclaimed. “Where are your wives?”

  “Aye, they’re coming in,” Lachlan said. “We met up with Iain about an hour ago. The lasses immediately threw over their husbands to ride together in the carriage.”

  “Carriage now?” Alec lifted a brow, impressed.

  “You ken my mother will not travel by horseback or even by cart,” Lachlan said with a grin. “Hope it was worth it though. She will no’ get a word in between Maggie and Mari.”

  “Christ,” Alec said, pulling them in for another embrace. “I’m seriously so pleased to see you both.”

  Malcolm interrupted. “Aye, c’mon then, Alec. Time to get to the church.”

  “Aye, give me one second.” He broke away from Lach and Iain and jogged after his mother, who was on her way to the kitchens. “Mother,” he called just as she’d turned into the corridor.

  She didn’t wait for him, but kept on, waving a hand over her shoulder. “Go on, son. Get to the church. I’ll be along with Edric and Corliss, just want to check on the—”

  He stopped in the dimly lit passageway. “Mam,” he called again, a bit forcefully, and then nearly chuckled when there appeared a jump in her step, as if he’d startled her.

  She did turn now. “Alec, what? You’ve got to get to the....”

  He strode with purpose toward her and pulled his mother into his arms. He’d forgotten how tiny and frail she truly was, how his arms could enfold her so easily. It felt good though, felt right. She was warm and so familiar. He whispered at her ear, “You’re a beautiful person, mam. I love you.”

  Her initial shock gave way to weeping. He felt her shaking against him. Nothing more than some ohs and oh my could be ascertained from her voice and her words, pressed into his chest.

  Alec rubbed her back. He was a lucky man, to have a mother like her.

  Malcolm was calling him from the hall, but his mother wouldn’t let him go, sniffling and still speaking into his tunic and plaid, though he still couldn’t understand any of it.

  “Mam,” he prodded, grinning for how tight she was holding him now. Pulling her arms from around him, he kissed her tear-stained cheek. “See you at the church.”

  Her delighted and airy little sigh of, “Oh, Alec,” followed him back into the hall.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The images of the day would forever be forged into his memory. The sun fought hard to show itself, winning the battle long enough that the first
part of the ceremony, outside the doors of the village church, was dry. He was surrounded by great friends and a loving family and his bride was absolutely breathtaking.

  Henry stood at his side, waiting her arrival. The entire village and dozens of people from near and far gathered outside the church. She’d walked over the small rise from the middle of the village, her hand tucked into Alexander MacBriar’s elbow. His father had beamed, nearly as much as days before, when Katie had asked him to give her away, saying, You are my father now, too, which had sufficiently watered the laird’s eyes at the time.

  Neither slashing rain or deafening thunder, not marauding armies or the good Lord himself come to witness the nuptials, could have torn Alec’s gaze from her. He would just have to get used to it, that she only became more beautiful to him. The gown she’d purchased at the market was finely made, and hugged her lean body with adoration; her hair had been arranged as he’d never seen it before, rolled and curled up into many intricate knots and threaded with autumn blooms of pink and orange and yellow, verbena and rudbeckia, he thought he recognized, among others. He caught sight of a delicate pair of ivory slippers, peeking from beneath the hem as she moved, but couldn’t imagine where she might have acquired them.

  But it was her face, her expression, which tightened his chest and filled him with pride and overwhelming joy. No shyness, even as she was indeed the grand center of attention, shadowed her features. No hesitation slackened her walk toward him. She was smiling, wide and bonny, her face lit with happiness, her gaze only for him.

  She was simply radiant. And she was his.

  The ceremony was nice, he thought, even as he had some hope that none begged that he recall any of it. Save for Katie standing next to him, he knew little else.