“I like the tune you chose, Leana.”
She sang the first line. “ ‘I luved ne’er a laddie but one.’ You know it’s true, Jamie McKie. You are the only man I have ever loved.”
He looked at her for a long time. “And you, Leana McBride, are the only woman I will love for as long as God grants me life. Come, lass. Be my bride.”
When the door opened, Leana saw their neighbors gathered in the entrance hall, lining the walls to make room for the blithe couple. But that was not all she saw.
Rose’s. Everywhere.
“Jamie …” She hung on to his arm, overwhelmed at the sight. “I did smell roses! I thought it was some sweet memory of my sister. How did you … Where did they … Oh, Jamie, ’tis more than …”
“Nae, ’tis not enough. Could never be enough.” He kissed her brow through the thin veil of her kell. “Before this day is done, you will choose your favorite rose and scatter the petals across our marriage bed.”
He remembers. She took a long, shaky breath, though her bairn gave her little room for air. Alas, they would not have a wedding night like most couples. Yet to hold Jamie in her arms and shower him with kisses … aye, there would be pleasure in that.
Jamie, dressed in his new coat and waistcoat, led her through the door. She’d chosen his dark blue fabric to complement her dress, and the tailor had done a fine job, but Jamie was right: Every eye was on her.
Yet they did not look down at her bairn, as she’d feared, nor at her new gown; they looked into her eyes. Many smiled. Some shed tears.
Leana both smiled and wept.
She, who had sat on the stool of repentance, would sit on the bride stool. Her sins, which were many, had been forgiven. And God, in his infinite mercy, had given her the desires of her heart. Every day will I bless thee. Every day, Lord.
Jamie escorted her into the drawing room, ablaze with candles and fragrant with roses. Round Glentrool the piper’s merry tune went forth, while Leana sang the lyrics in her heart. He is willing to make me his own, and his own I’m willing to be.
The bride stool, nicked and scraped from many a wedding, had been placed before the hearth, where pine logs burned and crackled. Above it, the mantel was blanketed with roses in soft yellow, rich cream, and pale pink. Chairs were scattered everywhere, all of them claimed. Many guests stood, while others craned at the doorways. Annabel held up Ian so he could see both his parents; the lad clapped, generating several titters. Neda and Duncan were seated close to the stool, and Alec McKie as well. All three were beaming.
The couple barely found enough room to stand in front of the stool, where Reverend Moodie waited for them none too patiently. He leaned forward and said in a stage whisper, “I thought you two had eloped to Gretna Green.”
Jamie chuckled. “Nae, sir, for I’ll not risk anyone saying Leana is not my lawful bride.” He nodded toward the small table at the ministers right. “I see you have the session record book.”
“As you insisted, Mr. McKie. Your marriage will be properly noted.” The minister straightened, assuming the dour expression of his calling, and raised his voice to the assembly. “Stand for a reading from the Book of Common Order.”
Chairs scraped, gowns rustled, throats were cleared. The solemn words of John Knox rang through the room.
Leana tried to breathe but could not. Was she truly here, marrying Jamie? After all the sorrow, all the pain? When her betrothed gazed down at her, peace reigned in her heart once more. My beloved is mine, and I am his.
As their witnesses resumed their seats, the minister put his book aside and turned his attention to the couple. “Is there any impediment to this marriage? Any reason why the two of you should not be joined together as husband and wife?”
They smiled at each other and answered in unison. “None.”
Reverend Moodie lifted his voice again to ask those crowding the room, “Is there any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony?”
Leana stilled, aware of her heart quickening and her knees trembling. But there was not a sound. No reason was offered. No impediment given.
“Do you have a ring, Mr. McKie?”
Jamie produced the ring from his waistcoat pocket and slipped it onto her left hand, stopping short of her knuckle. Her new wedding ring was wider than the silver one she’d worn before, the one buried with their beloved Rose. This ring was solid gold and beautifully etched.
His gaze sought hers, seeking her approval. She made certain he saw it in her eyes. It is perfect, Jamie.
They both turned to the minister, preparing themselves for their vows, as the piper’s last note hung in the air.
“Do you, James Lachlan McKie, take this woman, Leana McBride, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Jamie looked at her, not the minister, when he made his pledge. In his eyes she saw the rest of their days together beginning to unfold.
His voice was strong, his intentions clear. “Even so, I take her before God and in the presence of his congregation.”
Dearest Jamie. She could not wait to make the same promise.
Reverend Moodie turned to her, though she had eyes for Jamie alone. “And do you, Leana McBride, take this man, James Lachlan McKie, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Her heart leaped, and her child as well. “Even so, I take him before God and in the presence of his congregation.” Always.
“Give diligent ear then to the Gospel,” Reverend Moodie commanded as Jamie pressed the ring in place. The gold, warm from Jamie’s touch, gleamed in the firelight.
The minister read from the gospel of Matthew, “For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife: and they twain shall be one flesh.”
One flesh. Soon, Jamie. Not yet, but soon.
“What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.”
“So be it!” Alec McKie blurted out, and a smattering of giggles ran round the room.
Never was the traditional wedding psalm sung with more conviction, especially by Jamie. “My wife shall be a fruitful vine,” he sang out, “my children like to olive plants.”
Leana bowed her head to hide her smile. She could not grow olives in Scotland. But she could grow sons and daughters, with her husband’s able provision. Aye, she could do that.
The moment Reverend Moodie concluded his blessing the household broke into a joyous uproar. Chairs were overturned and laughing guests shoved aside as each person tried to be the first out the door in order to carry off the blessing and the luck it conveyed.
Reverend Moodie groaned aloud. “Oft as I’ve watched that custom, I ne’er have understood it. Trampling your friends to steal a blessing.”
Jamie looked over at Evan. “I understand it rather well, I’m afraid.”
His brother’s gaze was even but not unkind. “I understand it too.” He extended his hand. “Best wishes on your marriage, Jamie.”
Jamie clasped Evan’s hand. “And on yours. And on your children.”
Evan pointed to Jamie’s waistcoat. “Brother, you’d better have a fistful of pennies in your purse, for the young folk are calling for them on the lawn.”
Leana heard the children’s voices as well, shouting, “Ba! Ba!”
Jamie patted his purse. “I’m ready.” With Jamie in the lead, the wedding party made their way through the entrance hall and out the door, stepping round tumbled chairs and abandoned coats.
Now that the house was nigh to empty, Leana saw just how many roses decorated the rooms. “My love, you spent a small fortune.”
“Aye,” he admitted, squeezing her hand, “I did.”
Not only were the children waiting to scramble after the coins; many of the adults seemed eager to catch them as well. Leana’s eyes widened when Jamie emptied his purse into his open hand. Not pennies, but shillings.
“Ba! Ba!” the call came. Jamie tossed the coins as high as he could, showering the lawn and all who waited to catch them. Leana winced, though they di
dn’t seem to mind having shillings land on their heads.
“Most generous, Mr. McKie.” The minister stepped round them, adjusting his cape, for the afternoon had turned colder. “I am afraid I must ask you to be charitable once more and allow me to do my duty by your bride.”
Jamie eased back, giving the man room, though Leana noticed his expression hardening. “Be quick about it, Reverend, for the lass belongs to me.”
“I’ll not overstay my welcome,” the minister promised. As custom required, he kissed Leana briefly on the lips, as chaste a kiss as a father might give his daughter. “Now then, sir, ’tis your turn.” He smiled and started toward the stables. “I’ll not ask you to be quick, however.”
As Leana waved farewell, Jamie caught her hand and wrapped it round his neck. “Our minister has obliged me to kiss you, dear wife.”
She let him draw her into his warm embrace. “Is this naught but duty, then?”
“It is, lass.” He tipped his head, his mouth so close to hers that she could already taste her husband’s kiss. “A duty I will gladly fulfill.”
Ninety-Two
Peace and rest at length have come,
All the days long toil is past;
And each heart is whispering, “Home,
Home at last!”
THOMAS HOOD
For a moment Jamie forgot where he was.
Forgot he was standing outside his home on a chilly November afternoon. Forgot that half the parish was watching him. Forgot that a fiddler, a piper, and a cook were waiting for the bridal festivities to begin.
His only thought was the woman in his arms and the kiss he had never forgotten. Leana, my love, my wife.
“Jamie.” Her eyes were half open and her voice breathless. “Take me … up the stair. Please …”
He lifted his head, suddenly remembering where they were. And where they were not. “Leana, dearest, we have guests …”
“And I have a bairn who cannot wait.” She slumped in his arms as a dark stain soaked her hem.
Stunned, Jamie shouted the first name that came to mind. “Neda!”
Duncan was there first, holding back the crowd that surged forward, a great mass of anxious voices. “She’s on her way, lad. Dinna fear.”
Jamie watched in horror. The stain was spreading, fluid pooling beneath Leana’s feet. Nae. He would not allow it. It would not happen again. “Come, Leana. Let me hold you.” Lifting her, he cradled her against his chest, grateful when she stirred a little.
“Jamie …” She sighed. “Help me.
Neda was already beside him, clasping Leana’s hand in hers. “ ’Tis Neda, dearie. We’re takin’ ye in the hoose.”
Jeanie Wilson, the midwife, was right behind them. “Dinna fash yerself, Mr. McKie. Yer bairn is early, that’s a.’ ”
“That’s not all.” He pointed his gaze to her drenched gown. “She is …”
“She’s fine, Mr. McKie,” Neda said in a low voice. “ ’Tis her waters. Naught tae worry aboot.”
“So … she’s …” Jamie tried to sort it all out as the women ushered him withindoors and down the hall. “Leana is …”
“Havin’ yer bairn is what she’s doin’,” Jeanie said matter-of-factly. “Can ye carry yer wife up the stair, sir, or would ye rather she labored in here?” She pointed to the library with its large bed, where his mother’s body had lain for her lykewake.
“Nae.” He marched past the library and started up the stair, certain of his course. “She will have our bairn in our bed.”
Leana was not heavy, but their child made it hard for him to hold her as close as he liked. Her arms barely circled his neck. “Hang on to me, lass. I’ll not let you fall.”
“Jamie …” She said his name over and over, groaning as she did.
“Yes, my love. Almost there.” With their child squeezed tightly between them, Jamie suddenly felt a contraction seize Leana’s body. He stopped and leaned against the wall, in awe of the power he felt pressing against his chest.
She grabbed handfuls of his coat. “Hurry, Jamie.”
He climbed the last steps and strode down the hall to the laird’s bedroom his father had vacated for them only that morning. “You’re home now, beloved.” He eased Leana onto their marriage bed. The room had been thoroughly cleaned, new sheets put on the mattress, and candles scattered all over the room. He’d wanted everything just right for her, never knowing … never imagining.… “Leana, what can I do for you?”
“Rose’s.” A husky whisper. “Pink … roses.”
Jamie stood, missing the warmth of her against him. “Then roses you shall have.”
Neda and Jeanie were already at work, tying back the bed curtains, loosening Leana’s gown. Maids hurried into the room with fresh towels and pitchers of hot water. “Go, Mr. McKie,” Neda said kindly. “Get the lass her flooers. We have a else we need.”
He rested his hand on the carved post nearest her head. “My mother gave birth to me in this bed.”
“And me granmither, Jean Wilson, was the howdie that delivered ye.” Jeanie mentioned it almost every time she saw him. “Leave her wi’ us. We ken what’s tae be done.”
Duncan was waiting for him in the hall. “Gie me a task, Mr. McKie. I’m here tae serve ye.”
“Help me bring the flowers.” Jamie started down the stair, his mind spinning. Not until he saw the crowd in the entrance hall did he remember that he had a houseful of wedding guests expecting a bridal celebration that would last well into the night. His guests had not traveled all this way to hear the marriage vows spoken; they had come for the whisky and the ale, the bridal supper and the dancing, in that order.
“Mr. McKie!” a voice shouted up to him. “Is yer wife all richt? Is it yer bairn, sir?”
“Aye, ’tis my bairn.” But was Leana all right? Neda would tell him, wouldn’t she? Lord, help me!
Determined to solve one problem at least, he paused halfway down the stair and pointed to the young fiddler, who struck his bow across his strings long enough to garner the crowd’s attention as Jamie held up his hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, my servants will see you well sated with food and drink. The musicians will be in the drawing room, and I … well, I will be delivering flowers to my laboring wife.”
The wedding guests broke into applause as Jamie bolted down the last few steps, then headed toward the first pink roses he saw. Did she mean light pink or dark pink? Those tall blooms in the porcelain urn—were they pink or rosy red? Och! With Duncan’s assistance, he claimed every vase of flowers that seemed remotely the right color. They made several trips up the stair and deposited the roses on the floor outside the bedroom.
Each time he neared the door, Jamie strained to hear Leana. Was that a sob? Did she call his name? Was that … nae. Not the baby, not so quickly. He heard Neda’s soothing voice and Jeanie’s younger one, but he could not hear Leana. Please, Lord. I cannot lose her.
When they’d brought up the last of the roses, Duncan stood about the second-floor hall, clearly wanting to be useful.
“I ken you just met my father,” Jamie said, “but you would be doing me a great service if you looked after him. He doesn’t hear or see well, and crowds are a bit of a tickler for him.”
“Done, Mr. McKie.” Duncan’s wry smile was a welcome sight on such a day. “Whan a’ this stramash is behind us, I’ll be eager tae hear aboot yer raik west. And we’ve meikle tae tell ye aboot Kingsgrange as weel.”
“In the morn, Duncan, we will do just that.” The men clasped hands, then Duncan headed for the stair. Jamie faced the bedroom door, working up the courage to knock. Though if the women did not let him in, he would tear the door off its hinges.
“Come in, Mr. McKie.” Neda, sounding calm.
He entered the room with a vase in each arm and closed the door with his foot. Neda and Jeanie were conferring on the other side of the room. Was Leana not faring well? He went to her side at once, the flowers quickly placed on the dresser and forgotten.
His
bride of less than an hour lay beneath a sheet blessedly free of blood, her eyes closed, but her color promising. He knelt by the bed and leaned over her, brushing her cheek, then smoothing back her hair. “Leana?”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Oh, Jamie … you’re here.” A smile stretched across her face as she lifted her hand toward him.
Clasping it at once, he was grateful to find it warm and not icy. “The bridal festivities have commenced without the bride.” He pressed a fervent kiss to her fingers. “Do you mind all the noise? I’ll send the lot of them home at once if you do.”
“Nae.” She winced as another contraction started. “I can cry out all I wish and not worry someone will hear it.”
“Shout all you like, lass.” He gripped her hand as she curled forward.
Neda moved beside her, taking her other hand. “That’s it, Leana. Steady as she goes.”
Jamie looked across the bed at the woman who’d seen Leana through so many difficult days. “ ’Tis good to have you here, Neda.”
Neda pushed back an errant curl with the heel of her hand. “The Laird kenned I’d be needed.”
He gazed down at Leana. “How long until …”
“ ’Tis hard tae say, Mr. McKie. Not sae lang wi’ a second bairn.”
“But she’s … all right.”
“Och! Leana was made tae be a mither. Isna yer Ian proof o’ that?” Neda’s smile reassured him as much as her words did. “A’ she needs is time. And privacy. If ye’ll keep folk awa from her door …”
Including me? He did not need to ask. Resigned, he kissed his wife’s hand once more. “It seems the women want you all to themselves, Leana.”
“Nae.” Her gaze locked with his. “I want you, Jamie. With me.”
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