by Pam Binder
Figure it out together. The words rang like sweet music. She smiled. “And you should always wear a kilt.”
He laughed. “It was my dad’s idea. He found a collection of them in one of the rooms. He said this is our family plaid, the proud Mackinnons. I tried to tell him that this style of kilt wasn’t popular in Scotland until much later, but he dismissed my objections. He said I shouldn’t worry about the Wikipedia police. My mother added that men look good in kilts and that was reason enough to wear them.”
“Your mother is a wise woman, and your father a lucky man.”
Logan nodded and put his hand on Irene’s shoulder, turning her toward the circle of dancers. Enveloped in his arms, she leaned into him. The Great Hall vibrated as couples sang along with the ballad or joined in the folk dances. Grant had asked Julia to dance, and Fiona was standing near Liam.
Logan’s mother and father were holding hands like young lovers and laughing and singing along with the rest of the dancers. They nodded toward Irene and Logan and then snuggled together.
“She looks like a different person,” Irene said. “They both do.”
Logan drew her closer against his chest, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “They look exactly how love should look.”
“I’m not sure what we do next,” she admitted.
“I am.”
He got down on one knee and held out a ring.
Her pulse raced as though she’d been running a marathon. Running to keep ahead. Running to find happiness. Maybe she’d been running all her life and was just now learning how to stop.
A hush fell over the hall, and Irene glanced over her shoulder. The fiddlers had put their instruments down, and everyone was watching them. Why was he doing this? It was no longer necessary. The requirements of the enchantment had been fulfilled. They didn’t have to get married. Disappointment once again churned in her, taking her by surprise.
She cleared her throat and leaned toward him, lowering her voice. “There was a wedding. The sisters said we don’t have to worry. Everything is back to normal. You don’t have to ask me to marry you.”
His smile warmed the air around her. “I know. That’s why it feels right. I want to marry you. I meant it the first time, and I mean it now. I’m asking you in front of my parents, in front of witnesses, and with the ring that belongs to my mother.” His smile faltered. “But if it is too soon…”
Her heart thundered. “Yes. I mean, no, it’s not too soon, as crazy as that sounds. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Logan slipped the ring on her finger. It was a perfect fit.
He rose in one fluid motion, his eyes locked on hers, and cupped her face in his hands, pausing for a brief moment as though memorizing her features. Then he leaned closer, a breath away. “I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you.”
“I love you…”
Her words trailed off as his mouth found hers. Warmth swirled around her, and he held her as though he would never let her go.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lady Roselyn sat at her desk, waiting for Fiona to arrive. A short time ago, this room had been transformed into a fantasy world where guests could select the clothes from a different time and place and dream. While the wedding vows were being exchanged and guests gathering for the reception, everything had been put back the way it was. All the gowns had been returned to their wardrobes, and all the jewels locked safely in vaults. But the chamber looked sad, somehow.
She tried to shake off the impression. She should feel relieved. Happy. The tour was almost over, a wedding had taken place, and couples had found their soulmates. Mission accomplished. But she was on edge as though reflecting the mood around her. Nothing about this tour had been routine. She should be thankful that it was almost over, instead of wondering if this was a sign of things to come.
She bent over the thick matchmaker book, with the symbol of a Scottish thistle etched in its leather cover. The entries dated back hundreds of years. It was customary that the eldest sister record the matches made in the Highlands, and carrying on the tradition brought her a measure of peace.
She dipped her pen in the inkwell and added Irene and Logan’s names beneath Ann and Sean’s and Julia and Grant’s. From time to time she would make a point to check on her couples and update their status. It was part of who she and her sisters were. They wanted everyone happily settled. For now, Lady Roselyn was pleased with her couples’ progress. She’d already written the word “married” in the column next to Ann and Sean and felt confident she would be doing the same for the other couples soon.
Finished, she leaned against the chair and rolled her shoulders. Even with the tour’s successes, she couldn’t shake her unease. What was keeping Fiona? Lady Roselyn pushed back from her desk, stood, and began pacing the room. That sister of hers had no sense of time. One day she’d cut it too close and…
“Bridget said you wanted to see me?” Fiona had entered from a side door. Her face was flushed and her breathing labored.
Lady Roselyn took in Fiona’s appearance. She looked perfect in every way. There wasn’t a hair out of place, as though Fiona had stepped out of a thirteenth-century fashion magazine. A pillbox-style hat sat on her head, secured with a chin band. Her hair was neatly secured under a gold net at the nape of her neck, and she wore a loosely fitted gown under an embroidered surcoat.
Their mother had often said that it was the little things in a person’s appearance that hinted at either inner peace or rebellions bubbling beneath the surface. In Fiona’s case, Lady Roselyn speculated on the latter. Fiona was trying too hard to avoid arousing attention…or suspicion. There was nothing peaceful about Fiona’s expression or her bearing. She reminded Lady Roselyn of a coiled spring.
Lady Roselyn tested her theory. “You look lovely.”
Fiona slipped a finger beneath the chin band to loosen it. “I thought it was time I started looking like the other maidens in this time period.”
Lady Roselyn fluffed out her sleeve. “Pity we won’t be coming back for a while.”
Fiona’s expression froze. She chewed on her lower lip. “If it’s about the troublemakers, we’ve taken care of them, and we’ve made sure there was a wedding. Customer satisfaction is at an all-time high.” Her voice hardened. “The Matchmaker Council can’t blame us for what happened. In fact, they should give us ribbons.”
Lady Roselyn forced herself to remain calm. Fiona had overreacted. Not good. It shouldn’t matter where they conducted their matchmaking tours. It bothered her that she’d had to resort to deception to ferret out the truth, but she had tried the direct approach a few months ago, and Fiona had deflected her questions. Fiona would go missing for hours on end. Lady Roselyn had to know the truth. Being the eldest was a heavy burden. There were days…
She cleared her throat and pressed her point. “We haven’t heard from the council regarding what happened here. I’m being proactive. Besides, we could use a change of scenery. It will do us all some good.”
Fiona loosened the chin band at her neck even more, then gave up and removed her hat. “We have to come back.”
The expression in Fiona’s eyes spoke of longing and pain. Lady Roselyn glanced away for a brief moment, recognizing that expression. She’d seen it often enough in her mirror. She tucked the matchmaker book under her arm. The signs had been there all along. Of late, her younger sister was more excited than usual to visit this century. She knew for a fact Fiona wasn’t meeting with her betrothed. Liam often commented that he couldn’t find her. Lady Roselyn suspected her sister was seeing someone in this century. Normally she liked being right. Now was not one of those times.
Lady Roselyn kept her voice light, as she reached for Fiona’s arm. “Staying away from Stirling Castle for a while will be for the best. You’ll see.”
Fiona looked like a trapped animal. Her gaze darted behind her as she tried to disengage from her sister’s grip. “I think I forgot something. It won’t take long. I’ll be right back.”
“Liam and I don’t love each other.”
And there it was. Her heart ached for her younger sister. She’d hoped love would grow between Fiona and Liam. It hadn’t happened for her and her late husband, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen for others. Lady Roselyn repeated the speech her mother had given her on her wedding day. “Arranged marriages are based on other considerations. Marriage between matchmakers has never been about love. It’s about carrying on our traditions and helping others find their soulmates.”
“Do you ever wonder if it’s time we challenged those outdated rules?” Fiona said.
Lady Roselyn guided Fiona over to the door. “Never,” she lied.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Back in the dressing room of the Matchmaker Café, Irene took her time changing from the thirteenth-century gown to her twenty-first-century clothes. Their return to the twenty-first century was anti-climactic. All they had to do was walk through a door. There was a little discomfort. A flash of light, blinding cold, and, of course, mist, but all she kept thinking the whole time was that she didn’t want to leave.
Irene draped the gown over her arm. It was heavy, inhibited movement, and was impractical, but it represented the new awareness she’d learned about herself and those she loved. No one was perfect, and that was okay. She’d spent her life on the fast track, moving from one perceived crisis to the next. There was an old cliché that advised people to “take time to smell the roses.” She hadn’t known there were roses to smell. The enchantment of Stirling Castle had forced her to slow down and examine her life.
She touched her mother’s locket and whispered her gratitude. She felt as though a weight had been lifted from her heart, allowing the sunshine to rush in.
From across the room, Lady Roselyn smiled in her direction. She finished talking with Julia and crossed toward Irene. Lady Roselyn had also changed into modern clothes, but she still managed to look regal. “It’s hard to let go,” she said when she reached Irene.
“I’m sure you hear that often.”
Lady Roselyn’s mouth pulled into a thin smile as she accepted Irene’s gown. “Not often enough. Some people are not ready to accept love. Some, like Julia, and Grant, need a nudge to recognize their friendship has bloomed into something more. The most difficult to reach are those who either have unrealistic expectations or who don’t feel they are worthy of a great love. My sisters and I welcome the challenges that come our way. Matchmaking is our calling, and we believe there is a match for everyone.” She draped Irene’s gown over the arm of a chair nestled beside a table, and reached for something on the seat. “You are one of those who will take the spirit of this place with you always. We have a gift for you.” Lady Roselyn produced a large box, wrapped in plaid paper and decorated with snowflakes cut out of silver foil. Inside was a Christmas mug, a canister of hot cocoa, and a container of chocolate sprinkles. “So you’ll never forget us. Now, off with you. You have a man waiting.”
****
Outside Stirling Castle, Christmas bells chimed in the distance. Along the curb was a bank of taxicabs. They stood in rows like polished black domino pieces, all shiny and new. The storm had passed, and the sky was clear and studded with stars. The light reflected off the snow as though it were coated with the dust from thousands of diamonds.
Participants from the matchmaker tour were headed toward the taxis. The men who’d caused so much trouble were being escorted to a police car. Irene knew they’d been given two choices. One, an overnight stay in the local jail, or two, try to explain where they’d really been and risk a permanent stay in padded cells.
Julia, holding hands with Grant, waved to Irene and blew her a kiss goodbye before climbing into a taxi.
Members from the other tour began filing out of the café, as well. The family made up of the mother, son, and father who’d been so obsessed with their cell phones before the tour, now walked together hand in hand. The tour leader’s group followed closely behind him like ducklings waddling after their mother. They were talking over the top of each other in their excitement to share their experiences. Many were holding hands, a few had their arms entwined, and in between the chattering laughter and smiles they paused to kiss their partners or hug their children. They may not have shared the matchmaker tour experience, but the sisters were right: Stirling Castle had woven its own brand of Christmas magic around all who entered.
“It’s hard to let go.”
Logan’s voice was so much a part of her that she recognized it at once. She put her tote bag containing her mother’s diary over her shoulder and slipped her hand in his. “I don’t want to leave either.”
He drew her into a warm kiss and whispered, “We’ll be back for our honeymoon. I didn’t think I’d ever find what my parents have. I was actually resigned. Then I met you.”
Her heart filled with joy, and somewhere she heard bells ringing. “I feel exactly the same.”
Still holding her hand, he hailed a taxi. “There’s William. He’s right on time.”
Hands intertwined, they headed toward the last remaining cab. As they drew nearer, she wondered if she should bring up his parents. To no one’s surprise, Ann and Sean had asked the sisters if they could remain in the enchanted time of Stirling Castle. The sisters had said yes. But what must Logan be feeling?
He paused a few feet from the taxi. “You can ask.”
“How did you know…?” When he smiled in response, she said, “Your parents looked very happy.”
His expression seemed lit by an inner peace as he smiled. “They are the happiest I’ve seen them in a long time. They’re like teenagers experiencing their first love, only knowing it’s more than a crush: it’s the forever-after kind. My parents are exactly where they want to be…and so am I.”
The door to the taxi opened, and out popped the jolly driver who’d driven Irene to the castle. So much had happened that it felt as though days had passed instead of hours.
“You’re right on time, William,” Logan said.
William tipped his hat and winked at Irene. “I see the matchmaker tour worked out after all.” Not waiting for an answer, William opened the passenger door. “Where would you two like to go?”
“Surprise us.”
A word about the author…
Pam Binder is an award-winning Amazon and New York Times bestselling author. Publishers Weekly has said: “Binder gracefully weaves elements of humor, magic and romantic tensions into her novels.”
Drawn to Celtic legends and anything Irish or Scottish, Pam blends historical events, characters, and myths into everything she writes.
Pam is also a conference speaker, writing instructor, and president of the Pacific Northwest Writers Association.
http://pambinder.com
Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
