Back in her sitting room, which was now practically unrecognizable, Ava combed her hair until her curls dried and then they twisted lovingly around the girl’s wrists. Then she began to work the locks into intricate Scottish clan braids, twining them around her ears, over her forehead, and down her back, between her shoulder blades.
Because of how thick her curls were, there was still a huge mass of her fiery red hair that blanketed down her back. When the braids were finished, Ava placed several tiny pink rose buds throughout them. The finishing touch was a sprig of white heather, which Ava tucked carefully behind her left ear.
“An old wives’ tale,” Tily explained, as she waited for her own braids to be done. “It blesses the bride and groom with good luck through the first year of their marriage.”
“I love that,” Morgana confessed, touching the sprig of white heather gingerly. She was finding that she actually rather loved all things Scottish. The countryside, the people, and even all the traditions.
Being on the run so much, she was never able to quite stay anywhere long enough to learn of the village’s traditions. And she had been orphaned so young, she hadn’t remembered any she used to share with her parents aside from her birthing day. Having traditions to root herself to made her feel more included, and she liked the way they brought people together.
One of the traditions she particularly liked was the tradition of the Speerin, which, sadly, Gregor could not do because her father was no longer alive; and another tradition in which the bride had the groomsman’s wedding shirt made. In the same way, it was the groomsman that had the bride’s wedding dress made. She had sent Gregor his wedding shirt last night, but it wasn’t until her hair was nearly finished that her dress arrived.
All three women and Caitlyn gasped as the servants took the ornate garment. It was an elegant blue dress with gold trim along the long, belled sleeves and down over the hem. The corseted torso was outlined with shimmering gold thread, and an ornate wedding circle design stitched across the front.
The bodice scooped low, hiding her small baby bump and accentuating her breasts. Down the front of the skirt the seamstress had embroidered branches and leaves with gold thread. It was without a doubt the finest dress she would ever wear, let alone see. Gregor had indeed done a perfect job picking it out for her.
When it was finally on and Morgana saw herself in the mirror, she used every bit of strength she had to not cry, for it would ruin her rouge. Her heart was so full of love for the man that had bought her dress that she thought for sure it would burst from it all.
“Oh, lass,” Tily awed. “Ye look like a vision of an angel, I swear to God.”
“Thank you Tily,” she replied sheepishly, pressing her hands down the length of the dress. The other women quickly began to ooh and ahh at the exquisite gown, and as they did so Morgana thought back to the first time she had seen Gregor back in the graveyard.
He had been a broken man then, and there was no doubt that she had been a broken woman that wouldn’t trust a person farther than she could throw them. But the moment she had seen him there, mourning in the dark she had been drawn to his compassion. Of course, she hadn’t revealed that when they officially met for the first time, but as Gregor playfully told her, banter was a means of foreplay.
Then through the course of events Gregor had wound his way into her heart. He had shown her a type of kindness no man had ever shown her before, and an open-mindedness that was incredibly rare in such a part of the world. Then of course there was his patience with her.
It had been so pivotal with trusting him at first. To know that she was safe with a man was a luxury she had never experienced before, so being in closed quarters with him, despite it arousing her, had been a little scary until he proved himself to be trustworthy.
And then, after Fordun had attacked and he had so valiantly stepped in to protect not just her person but her reputation, she knew that he was not a man she needed to be afraid of. Perhaps there were others that should be afraid of him, but not her. She knew then and there that she would safe as long as she was by his side.
Gregor looked nervously in the mirror and adjusted his tartan. He had been scrubbed, trimmed, shaved, and dressed all morning, and now the time had come. In just a few moments, the bagpipes would start, and Morgana come down the aisle to be his wife. He tried to remember a time when he was more nervous, but he couldn’t recall one.
Morgana had lived such a hard life, and all he wanted to do now was surround her with love and happiness and a community that cherished her with all of its hearts. Of course, he had wished that his proposal would have come under slightly different circumstances, but fate had other plans.
“How are ye feeling, balach?” Jamie asked, coming up behind him. He reached over his nephew and adjusted his tartan for him.
“Nervous I see,” he answered on Gregor’s behalf.
“Aye, so what?” Gregor asked defensively. “After everything we’ve been through.”
“Och, after everything ye’ve been through, I daenae ken how ye didnae get hitched immediately. But now that the time has come I’m glad ye didnae. The village loves ye both, and I ken they’re all thankful to have been invited to yer blessed nuptials.”
Above them, the bell from the tower began to ring, and Gregor felt his stomach drop.
“I guess it’s time,” he said nervously, stepping away from the mirror.
Jamie placed his hands on his nephew’s shoulders and turned him to face him. He checked over the younger Reid’s attire once more and then gave him a nod of approval.
“Yer parents would be proud of the woman ye picked lad,” Jamie told him, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “And I daenae think Isabel could’ve picked out a better woman for ye.”
Emotions welled up in Gregor’s throat as his uncle became sentimental. It was hard not to think of them on this day, but he had to agree with his uncle. If all of his loved ones were there, he would no doubt have their approval.
“I miss them all,” he confessed, rubbing his neck.
“They’re here,” his uncle encouraged. “They’re all here today, watching over ye and all of us.”
Gregor felt his emotions well up in his throat, and he suddenly needed to take a moment to get himself under control. Jamie stood to the side respectfully, waiting for his nephew to sort himself out.
Morgana was an incredible woman who he could love and trust to take care of the village if anything had happened to him. She would love them as her own and treat them all with love and kindness. It was exactly the kind of woman he wanted not just for himself, but for his people.
Gregor and Jamie slipped into the castle’s chapel and took their places by the altar with the preacher. The room was filled with beautiful fall flowers and festive handmade streamers, but it was only for them. The guests, the townspeople and visiting clans, were in outside, waiting for the bride to arrive and by the noise that erupted outside, she had.
Suddenly the doors opened, and Morgana, with her bridesmaids, entered. When Gregor finally saw Morgana approaching, he nearly went to his knees in awe. Even from the distance he could feel Morgana’s happiness and love reaching out to him. The door closed behind them and the proceedings began. She filled the entire chapel with her presence, and in that moment, he thanked God for bringing such an incredible woman to him.
Epilogue
“Gregor,” Morgana giggled, batting his hands away playfully. “You need to slow down; you’ll rip my dress!”
Morgana’s protests erupted into a fit of giggles as Gregor let out a feral growl and nuzzled into her bosom. Their wedding night had been the best of her life so far, and by the looks of it there was no fear in it stopping anytime soon.
The ceremony had been breathtakingly beautiful. The chapel had been filled with lilies, and she had found the Scottish tradition of handfasting to be utterly romantic. Then, when he had presented her with her wedding ring, she had been speechless. Though not typically a fan of jewelry, she
loved the ruby he had chosen for her, and found it perfect.
After the ceremony, the party moved to main hall where the wine and ale flowed, and a wedding feast of the ages was laid out for all to enjoy. The kitchen had pulled out all of the stops for the feast. Roasted venison, stuffed duck, and many other Scottish delicacies had littered the giant table.
Thanks to her new pregnancy cravings, she couldn’t help but cry when she saw the mountain of Irish honey cakes piled high on the dessert table. It had been such a scary time in the Red Hound Tavern when they had discussed their wedding, but it touched her soul to know that Gregor had remembered them and the several bouquets of lilies he had brought in for her.
Morgana had been relieved that her morning sickness had passed shortly after the reception began, and she had taken thorough pleasure in eating for two. Luckily for her, Gregor was the only one that noticed, and responded by making sure she was never with an empty plate.
The party had carried on late into the night with dancing, singing, and a rather roguish bedding tradition in which Morgana was carried by the crowd to the wedding chamber. To her relief and surprise, Gregor had led her to a door hidden behind a tapestry. They then used the secret staircase to escape down to the Northern gardens where Gregor had a surprise waiting for her.
How he had managed it she had no clue, but there by her herb fields stood a freshly-built workshop. Of course, he had been gone a lot in the last month that they had been planning the wedding, but she had never even thought to guess that he could have been up to something such as this. The roof was made completely of glass panes, and the base of wood and stone.
Inside, Gregor had built her a rather large stone hearth, built in several dozen shelves, and put in work benches. He must have gone back to her cottage, for all of her supplies were now there. As she stood in awe, Gregor went to work lighting a fire.
When she had asked how he had done it, she was surprised to hear that nearly every person in the village came forward to help in one way or another so that the surprise could be built in time. She felt humbled to be given such a kindness and had kissed him as tears of happiness had rolled down her cheeks.
Never had someone, let alone an entire group of people, shown her such kindness. She knew then that she had finally found her home, and that she would never have anyone to run away from ever again. She finally had a home, and she couldn’t have asked for a better one.
“Gregor, my dress,” Morgana repeated, the complaint dissolving into a moan as his mouth played delightfully over her bared breasts.
“I’ll buy ye a new one,” he promised, his fingers working quickly at the strings of the corset. “I’ll buy ye whatever yer heart desires, lass.”
He finished working at her stays, and dragged the fabric away from her, letting it fall carelessly to the ground. For a moment he simply stood there, taking in her special wedding undergarments. Morgana had asked her dress makers to make her undergarments a little more scintillating, and chose a crimson red silk undergarment set to wear beneath the layers upon layers of blue fabric that made up her the rest of her outfit.
“Do you like it?” she asked sheepishly, worried that the color was too much.
Gregor’s eyes swept over her greedily, and he nodded. “I love it. As a matter of fact, as yer husband and laird of this village I command that ye wear nothing else whenever I’m around.”
He grabbed for her again as she laughed at his decree and he dragged her into his arms, so she was pressed tightly up against him. Her arms slid up around his neck, and she met his lips with hers. Her laughter at his teasing soon slipped into soft, breathy moans, and she soon forgot all about the delicate nature of her dress.
They made love slowly, taking their time to worship one another in a way only a man and wife could. First by the hearth on a bearskin rug, then on the main worktable, and then against the greenhouse door. They made love until the sun rose back up into the sky, and then they watched the watched the world illuminate together through the glass roof.
Wrapped up in the bear rug with Gregor’s chest as her pillow, Morgana felt safer and more loved in that moment that she ever had in her life. After over a decade of running, of fearing men, she had found one that gave her a home to stay in and a reason to not only love, but to trust.
She wasn’t sure how many times while on the run she had wished that somehow her future would allow her to stop running, but she had never thought it would be because of a handsome laird in a foreign country she would fall in love with. And what was even more incredible, was that he loved her back.
There was no fear, no judgement, no constraints of any kind in fact. It was just Gregor’s love for her and everything she was, and she couldn’t be happier about it.
“How did ye feel about yer wedding day, my Luv?” Gregor asked, his hand stroking over her hair. He sounded exhausted, but incredibly content. She smiled and kissed his chest before snuggling deeper.
“It was perfect,” she whispered. “Everything was absolutely perfect.” She lifted her head to look at him and saw that adorable boyish sleepiness in his eyes ready to take hold.
“That’s what I was hoping for,” he whispered back, smiling. “I love ye, Morgana.”
Morgana couldn’t prevent the smile spreading across her face, and she felt as if her heart was ready to burst.
“I love you too, Gregor.”
The End?
Extended Epilogue
Eager to learn how Morgana and Gregor’s relationship evolved? Then enjoy this complimentary short story featuring the beloved couple.
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But before you go, turn the page for an extra sexy and wild Scottish treat from me…
More sexy historical romance
Turn on to the next page to read the first chapters of Highlander’s Wicked Seduction, one of my best stories so far!
Highlander’s Wicked Seduction
About the Book
Even if you forget your past, it will always remember you…
In a desperate attempt to escape a forced betrothal, Diana Elton suffers a head injury that causes her to lose her memory. Waking up unable to remember, a necklace with a medallion of the Roman Goddess “Diana the Huntress” is the only remnant of her old life.
When kind-hearted and fierce-spirited Kentigern Forbes, Laird of Braewood, finds a beautiful lass lying on the ground unconscious, he has no choice but to rescue her. Curious about her identity but dazzled by her beauty, he brings her to Scotland with him.
But even though the two get closer, the mystery around Diana’s identity haunts Kentigern…until the day the earth opens up and swallows her whole.
On a frantic hunt to find her, Kentigern will discover that he and Diana are, in fact, already connected by a common secret. The secret of his closest family member that has been buried in the shadows for years.
Chapter 1
1757, Mersley, England
“Charles! Charles, where in heaven’s name are you?” Lady Diana Elton dashed through the lavish halls of the country estate, her bare feet tapping against the stone floors as she ran. Her flaxen hair, which shone gloriously when brushed and styled, was knotted and flew wildly around her shoulders as she rounded a corner and bumped headlong into her brother.
“There you are!” she exclaimed. “Mercy, this place is too big for the two of us, I can never find you when I need you.”
Charles laughed, though he tried to hide it, turning down the corners of his mouth and unconsciously attempting to smooth his wild sister’s hair. “Really, Diana, you’re too old to be running feral through the halls. Put some shoes on. Comb your hair.”
“Oh, nonsense. Who will see me but you? And you already know what my hair looks like, so why bother taming it? I’ve got only a limited number of hours in my life, and I intend to spend as few of them as p
ossible staring at my own reflection in a mirror. There are many more exciting things in this world to look at.” She playfully batted his hands away.
“As you’ve said. And yet, you are a Lady, Diana. And it’s time you started acting like one,” Charles said, laying a protective arm over her shoulder as he guided her back to his study. “You may be too innocent to realize it, but you are of an age now where men will begin to find you one of the most exciting things in this world to look at.”
Diana rolled her eyes as they entered her brother’s study. At one time, this room belonged to their father. His large, leather-bound books lined the walls, absorbing the sounds of their footsteps and carpeting the room in an almost unearthly quiet.
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