The reception was intimate, and just as beautifully decorated and set as the wedding venue. Every detail was perfect. Everyone was having so much fun that the reception went well into the night. Before it was over, news of the brawl and Connor's heroism were all over the news. Connor was suddenly the man of the hour and took the center of attention back from us, where it belonged. The way he and Sam looked at each other and danced with each other didn't go unnoticed either.
Connor was single again. So was Sam. So, who knew? It could have just been wedding vibes.
The whisky flowed. The meal was as delicious as any I'd ever had, but I barely got a bite. You know how it goes when you're the bride. Being the center of attention has its disadvantages. The cake was beautiful. And Austin spent the reception with a bag of ice on his hand. But we weren't successful in getting the ring on over his fat knuckle.
We cut the cake together and fed each other delicately and politely, in contrast to the popular tradition of smearing cake all over one another. I put the garter on a football, an American football—it wasn't going to fit over a soccer ball. My thighs weren't that big.
The guys gathered excitedly around, unlike most single guys at weddings who avoided the garter toss, eager and ready to fight. All except Lazer and Connor, who seemed indifferent. Austin consulted with Ashley before he threw it. She whispered something in his ear. I thought she would tell him to throw it to Lazer. But he looked Jeremy in the eye and threw it right to him. So, who knows how the mind of a matchmaker works?
The jig was up. As we left the reception to head to our honeymoon suite, the paparazzi surrounded us. And our dear friends and family showered us with rice. We were completely covered by the time we got in the car.
Our driver took us on a scenic route to our castle. The moon was high overhead. The stars were bright. And the castle was only accessible to guests through a manned gate. We lost the flock of paparazzi at the entrance. Fortunately, none of them were gatecrashers.
To our surprise, as we were checking in, so were the guys.
Austin confronted them. "What are you all doing here?"
"Protecting you and spending the night," Cam said. "We can't count on the paparazzi not scaling the fence. I wish this place had a moat."
The other guys concurred.
"The security around here isn't all that tight. We scoped it out earlier." Cam held his hand up. "Don't worry. We aren't staying in the castle." He glanced around. "Though look at these walls. The soundproofing—"
Dylan said, "We're staying in the pods outside."
"The pods?" I frowned. "Like in an alien movie?"
Jeremy came up beside him. "We're glamping! Glamor camping? It's very popular here. You know, camping in a cabin with some of the amenities of home?"
"Like a roof and walls," Cam joked.
"We're glamping in little cabins on the castle grounds by the caravan park," Jeremy said. "Don't worry. We bought out the caravan hookups for the night to keep the riffraff out. It'll just be us and some of the show crew caravanning and glamping it up tonight."
Jeremy elbowed Dylan. "I hope you fit in the tiny cabin, man. We should have measured the doorway first. The ceilings aren't all that high in them."
"Nor are the beds large," Cam said. "Can Dylan fit in a standard full?"
Glamping. That sounded exactly like the kind of thing the guys would do. Great fun for them.
"Are you going to sit around the campfire and tell battle stories like Highland warriors of old while you roast s'mores?" I said.
Cam lifted one eyebrow. "I hope you said bores."
I laughed.
Jeremy shook his head. "No open campfires. That's the downside of glamping here. Barbecues only. Hard to roast marshmallows over a barbecue."
"On the upside, we have toasters and electric heat," Dylan said.
"And showers," Cam added.
"Thank goodness for that." I frowned at Austin and looked at the guys. "But how did you know where we were staying? It was a secret."
The guys, including my new husband, looked at me like I was not too bright.
Dylan pointed at Austin with two fingers. "Someone screwed up."
Jeremy smiled kindly at me and shrugged. "We're hackers? And cybersecurity experts? Do I have to spell it out?"
Austin looked apologetic and gave me a look like, What can I do? "Sorry, Southron. It was three very determined hackers against one."
Just then, Lazer and Ashley walked in. "Fancy meeting the newlyweds here."
"Is everyone joining us at our honeymoon location?" I said, trying to keep the frustration from my voice. "Maybe I should just post an invitation?"
Sam, Connor, and Flora walked in and waved just as the words left my mouth.
"Not everyone." Lazer bumped Austin with his shoulder. "I think one or two of the crew went back to Inverness."
Dylan coughed. "Staying at the caravan park on the grounds. We're having a party later, if you care to join us."
Austin laughed and took my hand. "Fortunately, we have the north tower all to ourselves." He took the key from the hostess and pulled me along with him, waving to our friends. "Goodnight, all."
"Yeah. And sleep well," Dylan said with a wink.
Cam punched Dylan in the arm. "What the hell are you thinking? They're not supposed to be sleeping tonight." He turned to Austin. "If that bride of yours isn't walking like she's saddlesore in the morning, you haven't done your job by her, buddy."
"This isn't the Middle Ages. He's already broken her in." Jeremy shot us a teasing look. "That doesn't let you off the hook, MacDougall. We expect to hear the sound of ecstatic moaning all the way out at the glampers."
"Music to eat our s'mores by," Dylan said.
They were still making jokes and lewd comments when we reached the staircase and left the lobby.
"Ignore them," Austin said.
"Oh, I am," I said. "They're just having fun."
"And are envious as hell."
"Their time is coming."
We reached the entrance to the north tower. The corridor was romantically lit with electric candles and chandeliers. The floor was softly carpeted in red, as if we were royals. Austin unlocked the door to our room and swept me into his arms, fighting yards and yards of dress in the process. "Do I have it all now? Did I manage to get you in with all this material?"
I couldn't help laughing. "I believe you did."
"I love you."
"And I you." I kissed him.
"Warn me if I catch anything in the door." He carried me over the sill into our room and closed the door with his foot. "Alone at last." He kissed me again and set me on my feet.
I looked around the softly lit room with candles flickering on the nightstands, scenting the air. The room was deep and rich with royal colors—red carpeting, goldenrod walls, dark wood furniture, and leather chairs. A masculine room in many ways. But romantic in the way of a bygone era. It was done in a medieval theme, with rich restored tapestries hanging on the walls and a sturdy four-poster bed, already turned down for the night and dusted with red rose petals. The bed was beautifully inlaid with carvings of Scottish thistles that were painted and accented with gold leaf. A bouquet of red roses sat on a dressing table next to the window. In front of it was a box of inlaid wood tied with a red bow and a card with my name on it written in Austin's block engineering printing.
I bent and smelled the roses, touched by the thought of him arranging all this. I had a gift for him in my suitcase. Nothing too fancy. VIP tickets to Comicon next year to celebrate the first anniversary of our meeting.
I looked into his eyes and smiled. "They're beautiful." I nodded toward the gift on the table. "For me?"
Austin smiled softly and looked a bit embarrassed as he picked the box up and handed it to me. "A gift for my bride."
I took it and slowly untied the ribbon, setting it aside on the table when I was finished. The wooden box was flat and rectangular. Unless I missed my guess, a jewelry box. A large one
with a hinge.
He watched me as I opened it slowly. My breath caught when I saw the contents—a lovely strand of faintly lavender pearls with a gold clasp.
My eyes met his. "They're…gorgeous. Are these freshwater pearls?"
He nodded. "Scotch pearls, to be exact. River pearls from mussels."
"But…this strand of pearls…" I shook my head. "It's priceless. It's illegal to harvest Scotch pearls, isn't it?"
He nodded. "Since the late nineties. You need a special license to sell them, and then only the pearls harvested before the ban."
"Then how…"
"Granda. Those were my grandma's. I had to cajole them out of him. But he knew they were mine. He had no choice but to hand them over."
"You went to your granda?" Now I was astounded. Austin didn't like the old man. "And he approved of you marrying a half-American Englishwoman? Enough to give you these?"
Austin took the pearls from me, undoing the clasp. "Turn around. Let me put these on you."
I obeyed and lifted my hair out of the way so he could fasten them around my neck. They were cool and smooth against my skin.
"Grandma promised me these pearls when I was a boy. You have her to thank for them. I used to play with them. One of my favorite memories of her is sitting in her lap, playing with her pearls."
I clutched them gently at my neck. "Play with them?"
He nodded. "This is a nice strand. Even so, they weren't as valuable then, before the ban. And Grandma spoiled me rotten. She was always careless with her jewelry. She promised them to me on the condition I gave them to my bride on my wedding night. So, here we are. They're yours. On the condition you pass them on to a daughter, if we have one. And if not, to our first granddaughter."
I slid my arms around his neck. "That's a promise I'll gladly make. But don't expect me to let our grandchildren play with them."
"All right." He tipped my chin up and kissed me. "I guess I can live with that."
The window was open. A cool breeze drifted in, rustling the heavy curtains and flickering the candles. He pulled me in front of him and wrapped his arms around me, warming me against the chill. We looked out at the starry night and the dark grounds, lit in the distance by barbecues and light from the glampers. We could hear the guys laughing and joking as they left the castle. We watched them walk toward the pods in the distance.
"Those pods really do look awfully small. I agree with Jeremy—I sure hope Dylan fits." I leaned my head against Austin's chest.
"I wouldn't worry about him. We have more important things to think about." Austin spun me around to face him.
"You mean we have more pleasurable things to engage in."
His face lit up. "I love you, Dr. MacDougall."
"And I love you, Mr. MacDougall." I untied his cravat. "Shall we consummate this marriage before we have another interruption like at the wedding?"
"Are you expecting one?"
"Me?" I said.
"My archenemy is thoroughly demoralized and locked up in a Scottish jail," he said. "You're the one with a crazy ex who's out under his own recognizance."
"Nigel? I wouldn't worry about him. I believe I read that he's already consoling himself with someone else." I reached for the belt of Austin's kilt.
"Not so fast." He turned off the electric lights and kissed the tops of my breasts as moonlight spilled in. "These have been tantalizing me all night." He tried to pull them free from the dress. "Damn. What's this?"
I laughed at his futile efforts. "I'm taped in."
He shook his head. "Another bad joke on the groom meant to foil his fun. I've been picturing making love to you while you wore nothing but those river pearls for days now." He shook his head. "But I'll take you any way I can get you. Even if I have to do it through eighteen layers of skirts."
"And I'm looking forward to being taken by a man with a pulsing rod that's long enough to penetrate that many thick layers of dress."
"Not to brag," he said, eyes sparkling, "but I'm your groom for the job."
I laughed. "I hate to disappoint, but I believe it's only sixteen layers. A lesser man could do the job." I reached into my bodice and un-taped myself from the dress. And then, because I could, I pulled my breasts free from the indecently low bodice and tossed away the silicon press-on bra I'd been wearing. I stood tall before him, my breasts budding nicely in the cool breeze and his hot gaze.
He gently twisted my nipples between his fingers and bent to suck them, one at a time, right one first, as always, giving them his equal undivided attention. "Let's get you out of this dress." His voice was deep with desire.
That made two of us. I was wet and ready for him.
I turned around and presented my back, and that long row of tiny buttons, to him. "I hope you're a patient man."
"Damn," he said. "That's a hell of a lot of buttons."
I sighed. "That's the hell of wedding dresses. I hope you're good with buttons?"
"Good with buttons?" He laughed, leaned in, and whispered, his breath hot in my ear, "Beth isn't as sadistic as most designers. She shared the secret of getting you out of this dress while my ardor still burns hot and my rod is ready."
He grabbed the top of the back of my dress and, well, I didn't know exactly what he did, or how he did it, but with a few smooth moves, he had them unfastened.
"Tearaway buttons? Impressive." I stepped out of my wedding shoes and out of the dress, out of my under-slip, and stood before him in my lace thong, garter, stockings, and pearls.
His eyes grew round and dark as he studied me. "Those pearls look beautiful in the moonlight." He caught me beneath the knees, carried me to the bed, and laid me down on my back.
I watched while he divested himself of his jacket and shirt and unfastened the belt of his kilt. It fell to the floor.
"That's what I've been waiting for." I reached for him.
He slid onto the bed, bracing himself over me, studying me. "Damn, you look beautiful in candlelight. I'll never grow tired of this sight."
And then he made a thoroughly married woman out of me. Multiple times.
Epilogue
Blair
One month later—September
I was running late at the hospital. I had to wrap things up. Austin and I had an appointment to look at a house. Yes, we were buying a house together in Seattle. For now, I had given up my apartment by the hospital and we were living in his condo. But it was his condo, if you know what I mean. He was welcoming and generous with it, but I felt like a guest there. We quickly decided we wanted a place that was our home before we started a family.
Speaking of houses and homes, Beth was flying back from Scotland to arrange to lease her house out for at least a year. She and Malcolm were quite the item back in Inverness. He'd gotten her a job in Jamie's costume department. She was in heaven—she'd finally, apparently, found true love in her late middle age and gotten her dream job at just about the time most people dreamed of retiring. Personally, I didn't think Beth had any intention of ever retiring from her creative ventures.
I missed Beth, but I was supremely happy for her.
The first few episodes of the new season of Jamie were setting records for both critical praise and number of people watching. The show had already been renewed for another season, which was good for everyone.
Connor and Sam dancing at our wedding? That had been wishful thinking on my part, unfortunately. Connor had gone back to his blonde girlfriend and seemed happy, at least for the moment. Or she'd gone back to him. I didn't know which way it went exactly. But who knew? There was always a chance for Connor and Sam, however slim it might be.
Randy Dixon had been charged with assault in Scotland and was in a Scottish prison awaiting trial and extradition to the United States on charges of treason and a host of cybercrimes.
Nigel was very publically dating a pretty Cornish woman and seemed happy. He was still playing on his "fame" and similarity to Reggie. A leopard like Nigel really can't change his spots. A
t least not overnight. It was unrealistic, I suppose, to expect him to.
Nigel and I really weren't suited. That was painfully clear. But now that I had a little distance from him, I'd mellowed toward him. I'd always remember him fondly as my first real love, a college love. There's something special about college love when passions run high.
Nigel sent us our ancestry charts as a wedding present. He had very meticulously traced our genealogies. And wouldn't you know—Connor and Austin are distant cousins. Which gave them quite a laugh and ensured, now that they were family, that they would be buddies for life.
I was doing exceptionally well at the hospital. Erica saw to that. I was on her good side now that, because of my head injury and temporary memory loss, I had been deemed an unreliable witness. I hadn't thrown myself in front of that car for her sake, but she seemed to think I had. She had continued her generosity to the hospital after her husband Bob's death, saying that was what he would have wanted. Of course, a large part of it went to her research.
Dan had left his wife. He and Erica were openly living together now. And Erica was quite heavily pregnant with Bob's heir.
One evening shortly after I returned from my honeymoon, Erica had insisted on taking me out for dinner "to celebrate." We dined on the waterfront downtown and then took a walk along the piers. Finally, we ended up on a bench overlooking the water, having a chat as we looked out over Puget Sound.
"I haven't had a chance to properly thank you," she said, with her characteristic sly look.
"For what?" I had a pretty good idea.
"For covering for me." She studied me much like a wild animal studies its prey. It would have been disconcerting if I hadn't been used to it. She laughed suddenly and grabbed my arm. "Never play poker, Blair. Your face gives you away." She startled suddenly, gasped, and grabbed her swelling stomach, looking surprisingly maternal and happy. "Baby kick. He's a fierce one, this little boy of mine." She took my hand and put it on her stomach so I could feel her baby move.
It was a bonding move. The baby was as sly as his mother. He cooperated by kicking wildly.
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