A knock at the door stopped Celia from opening the chest, and she turned an inquisitive eye toward the sound.
“It's Colin,” came the reply to Agnes's question.
“Just wait, you scoundrel,” Agnes called, smiling at Celia and motioning for her to sit by the fire. Quickly she scooped up the dress and carried it into Ellen's room. Returning in a moment, she crossed the room and opened the door.
The young warrior entered, moving just inside the door. Colin's eyes locked on his bride immediately. My God, she was a vision of beauty. He had missed her so much. For the past four days they had hardly had a moment alone together. For the past four nights Colin had lain in his big, empty bed—just a passage away from her—thinking of her, longing for her. And now, her bright smile, so warm, so inviting, tantalized and made Colin's heart race. If this was how life would be from now on, he would never leave Kildalton. He might never even leave their room.
As Colin entered, Celia stood up, took a step toward him and then, remembering the presence of Agnes, stopped. She wanted to rush right to him, to throw her arms around him and crush herself in his embrace. If she'd known that the wedding preparations and the arrival of guests would have kept them apart as much as it had, she would have run away with him instead.
“Hello, Colin,” Celia said shyly.
“What do you want, you rascal?” Agnes teased gently.
“Agnes,” he said, not taking his eyes off the beauty before the fire. “I'd like a few moments alone with Celia.”
“Colin Campbell,” she scolded. “If you think I'm going to leave you alone with a defenseless young woman...I can see the way you're looking at her.”
“Agnes, I promise I'll behave,” Colin countered, smiling. “If you like, I'll leave the door open.”
“All right,” she conceded. “I'll just look in on Ellen and Kit. But no funny business.”
Casting a warning look at Colin, Agnes turned and winked warmly at Celia before moving across the room, closing Ellen's door behind her. As soon as she disappeared, Celia rushed into Colin's outstretched arms.
They held each other in a clasp so tight, so warm, that Celia thought she could mold herself to him, as if they were two soft wax figurines. Colin, too, could not absorb enough of her. His hands tunneled through the soft auburn tresses, skimmed along her shoulders and her back. Celia's sweet jasmine fragrance filled his senses with a headiness that was dizzying. And now, as if they had not kissed for years, they devoured each other, unable to satiate the driving hunger that ached within them.
“I've missed you so much,” he breathed into her ear. “If my love for you grows any greater, I may just lose my mind.”
“You've been on my mind every moment that we've been apart,” Celia whispered in return. “Even when you were just a moment out of my sight, I found myself straining to catch a glimpse of you.”
“Well, we're together now,” Colin responded, his mouth closing on hers, driving and feeding their need.
“Agnes tells me that I've been calling you in my sleep,” she purred, drawing back and placing her forehead against his scorching lips.
“Then you've been having the same dream I've been having,” he replied, his hands running down over the firm curve of her backside.
“Colin,” she cried softly, a wistful look in her eyes. “How long do we really have to wait before...before...?”
“About five minutes after the ceremony tomorrow,” Colin growled. “That's how long it will take us to get out of the church. Father William did say that we cannot make love in a church, I think.”
“Colin, you're a devil,” she murmured, her hands caressing the small of his back. “We're not going to ignore Father William's advice.”
“Ignore it? Absolutely not, my love,” he answered, running his lips over the silky skin beneath her ear. “Think of all the things we'd be missing.”
“Like what?” she whispered innocently.
In his mind Colin ran through just a few of the things they would experience together, and felt the hot, piercing sensation emanate from his loins. He pulled away from her with a deep breath and a supreme attempt to master his rapidly crumbling self-discipline.
“Do not get me started now, my sweet,” he rumbled gently. “I'm having a hard enough time restraining myself as it is...Tomorrow, love.”
Colin took Celia's hand and led her to the two chairs beside the fire. Seating her on one of them, he removed a satchel from his shoulder and placed it on the floor beside his chair.
“As usual, you've completely distracted me from what I came in here for.”
“I'm sorry, Colin,” she answered, smiling coyly.
“Do not be sorry,” he replied. “I'm looking forward to a lifetime of being distracted by you.”
Taking her hand again, he gazed lovingly into the lustrous blackness of her eyes.
“I have something for you, Celia,” he said softly.
Without another word, he reached down and opened the satchel at his feet. From it he removed a small bundle of blue velvet, tied with two white silk ribbons. Looking tenderly into her face, he laid the gift in her hands.
“Colin, there is nothing that you need to give me. You've already given me everything.”
“Open it, my love.”
Celia carefully pulled at the bows securing the velvet wrapping and opened the soft folds of cloth.
Within it lay a gleaming circlet of gold.
Lifting the precious gift, Celia looked with awe at the coronet of the Campbell Clan. Beautifully wrought to resemble a weave of golden cords, the circlet was embedded with alternating emeralds and rubies...the Campbell colors.
“Colin,” she gasped. “This is magnificent! I cannot...”
“This is only a part of all that is yours, now. You are Lady Campbell.”
Celia threw her arms around his neck, and Colin pulled her onto his lap. Taking the coronet from her hand, he started to place it gently on her head, but Celia stopped him with her upraised hand.
“Tomorrow, my love,” she whispered. “I cannot wear it until tomorrow.”
“Why not?” Colin exclaimed.
“Agnes tells me that it’s very bad luck for the bridegroom to see the bride wearing any part of her bridal outfit before the wedding ceremony.”
“She certainly is enjoying this.” the groom laughed. “I’ve never seen her so elated.”
“Colin,” Celia whispered, laying a finger softly on his lips. “Of course she’s elated. You are a son to her—the only child she’ll ever have. But wait here a moment.”
Taking the crown back from him, Celia bound from his lap and crossed the room to the great chest. Returning to the fire, she carried only a soft lambskin packet. Colin welcomed her back onto his lap with a laugh.
“Oh, I shouldn't have gifts for you, but you have gifts for me?” he growled affectionately.
“I hope you like this, Colin,” Celia said, offering him the packet.
Colin pulled the leather thong and opened the flap of leather. Reaching in, he brought out a long dagger housed in a gold-trimmed ebony sheath. The handle was steel and ebony and the steel hilt was fashioned like a scroll embedded with gold chain. At the ends of the hilt, two sapphires gleamed, matching the single larger sapphire set in the heel of the weapon.
Colin looked from the gift to Celia's neck and reached for the pendant that she wore. It wasn't there, and he knew that he was holding it in his hand.
“Celia, that pendant was the only remembrance you had of your mother,” he said in a ragged whisper.
“And I'll think of her whenever you wear it,” she replied, her eyes misty.
“I'll wear it always, my love,” he said hoarsely. “Nothing will make me part with it.”
“I had them inscribe it, Colin,” she said.
Colin drew the dagger from the sheath and inspected the two entwined C's that had been etched into the blade just above the hilt. His eyes showed the emotion that was overflowing in his heart, and he drew h
er tightly to him in an embrace that conveyed the feelings that he hardly dared entrust to his constricted throat.
“We, too, are entwined, my sweet, like a thistle and a rose,” Colin whispered raggedly. “I am that thistle, and you the rose. We, too, are entwined, and it is the embrace of love...indivisible, invincible, eternal.”
Celia fought down the mad desire to weep for joy.
“I love you, Colin,” she whispered.
Chapter 14
The Scottish dawn broke with the fresh blue brilliance of spring, and the morning was filled with the busy preparations of the day.
But just before midday, Celia climbed onto a magnificent bay horse, its harness gleaming with silver and gold. Riding between Edmund and Agnes, the bride began the short journey to the village church at the Marketcross by the harbor. Her two companions were dressed in the finest of clothes, and Edmund was wearing the golden medallion of the Knights of St. Andrew.
Although neither Agnes nor Edmund had ever married, or had ever had a child of their own, both looked on the young woman between them with the pride of natural parents. Agnes had been moved to tears when Celia had asked her to accompany her to the church, and she now more than ever believed that destiny had brought Colin and Celia together. Celia had found a niche in Agnes's heart that only Colin had occupied before. Edmund glowed happily, as well, thinking of the years and the miles that had brought them to this place, to the fulfillment of such cherished dreams.
Emmet and five of Colin's lead warriors, all adorned in Campbell tartans, met them inside the castle's gaily bannered gates, and a hundred mounted fighters awaited as an escort just outside. Trumpets sounded as they left the castle, and a brigade of pipers led the procession noisily toward the town.
This was to be a wedding for all, and the whole village teemed with the folk of the clan and the Campbell holdings. As soon as the bride entered the village, a great shout went up, and laughing children ran alongside the entourage. Everywhere Celia looked, the newly painted houses and gates sparkled with brilliant greens and reds and blues. Banners and tartans, flags and tapestries, hung from every window. And the folk themselves, dressed in their finest holiday clothes, gathered all along the village streets to cheer for their new lady and to join in the growing procession to the church. Festivity and hospitality were the watchwords of the day.
When Celia reached the filled Marketcross, she could see that even the boats in the harbor had been decked out for the occasion. In the square itself, pipers and minstrels joined in the chorus of musicians that had led her cavalcade, and the air was filled with euphonic sounds of joyous music. From the church belfry and from the ships in the harbor, the sound of bells ringing out completed the symphonic reception.
The crowds parted for the gaily decorated troop of war-horses, and Celia was brought before the raised stone platform at the center of the Marketcross. There, a misty-eyed Lord Hugh, the entire clan council, and a delegation of leaders from the village stood in smiling appreciation of the sight before them.
When Lord Hugh raised his two hands, the bells ceased to ring, and a sudden and complete hush fell over the crowd. Celia turned to Agnes who, with a reassuring smile, reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Sir Edmund Bruce,” the Campbell chieftain thundered in a voice all could hear. “Do you deliver this bride, Lady Celia Muir, freely and without reservation, to be joined with Colin Campbell, heir to the lordship of the Campbell lands and the Western Isles?”
“Lord Hugh Campbell,” Edmund proclaimed in return. “With the whole-hearted consent of the lady herself, I deliver her to you as the bride of Lord Colin Campbell!”
Immediately a cacophony of cheers and music erupted from the crowds all around Celia, who was helped from her horse and introduced by Lord Hugh individually to the entire leadership assembled there. The formalities completed, Agnes, Edmund, and the rest of the dignitaries filed quickly into the church. Then, with great pomp and a wave at the crowd, Hugh led Celia across the square to the church.
Colin stood between Father William and the Archbishop by the altar in the packed church. As the last of the wedding guests filed in, the spring sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows and glittered on stone carved figures of saints and angels. Alec, standing beside his family at the front of the assembly, nodded at his friend. He had been a constant thorn in Colin's side all morning, `helping' the groom with jokes, bad advice, and even offers to stand in for the Campbell heir...should Colin have second thoughts.
A hush fell over the congregation as the grand and courtly sound of a lone bagpipe commenced. Colin's eyes strained at the brilliant light of the open doorway for a first glimpse of his bride, and he did not have long to wait.
Lord Hugh and Celia entered the church, and Colin froze, aware of the drumming of his own heart within his chest.
Celia's auburn ringlets hung loose beneath the Campbell coronet. Her black eyes flashed as they focused on Colin, and her gown of white, ornately embroidered with threads of gold, glittered as she crossed the threshold on the arm of Lord Hugh. Colin felt the heat of a thousand suns rush into his face as he gazed upon the ravishing beauty who was advancing toward him.
Walking toward the altar, Celia saw nothing but Colin. Magnificent, dashing, handsome, and more.
Richly arrayed in his finest kilt, a black velvet cape hanging loosely over one shoulder and the Campbell tartan across his broad chest, Colin was every bit the Highland laird. But Celia's eye was caught by the ebony-handled dagger that hung conspicuously from the velvet sash about his waist and by the loving gaze that was riveted upon her.
Lord Hugh, dressed similarly to Colin, with the addition of the gold chain of the Peerage, delivered Celia's steady hand into his son's and, beaming proudly, took his place beside Agnes and Edmund. Indeed, his son had done well, he thought. There had been looks approaching awe as they'd walked to the altar. Celia had the bearing of a queen and the beauty of an angel, but the heart of a saint. And Hugh could sense that others knew that, too. Constance would have been very proud of her son's choice.
The Archbishop, a stern-faced and lighthearted cleric, stood with Father William and listened as Celia and Colin exchanged their vows of love and fidelity, before God and their community. What the Lord hath joined, let no man put asunder.
One by one, the leading members of the Campbell clan approached the altar and the newly wedded couple. One by one, the Campbell knights and fighters knelt before their new lady and pledged their lives and their service to her. The solemnity of their vows, adding to the emotionally charged moment of the wedding event, wracked Celia...body and soul. She fought back tears as Emmet and Runt placed their hands over their hearts and delivered their oaths.
As Colin and Celia worked their way out of the church, their ears were greeted once again with the melodious sounds of pealing bells and bagpipes. Outside, the crowds of well-wishers surged against the church steps. The wedded couple stopped at the top, and the crowd quieted immediately.
“Good people of the Campbell clan,” Colin proclaimed loudly, holding Celia's hand tightly. “I give you...Lady Campbell.”
The tumultuous shouts and cheers that followed overwhelmed Celia, and her tears were streaming down her cheeks as Colin swept her up in his arms and kissed her before the entire village. From the ships in the harbor, cannons fired an ongoing salute to the delight of the crowd, and Celia felt as if she were walking on a cloud as they began their procession back up through village festivities to the Castle looming benevolently above.
The wedding dinner in the Great Hall was a sumptuous feast accompanied by dancers, musicians, and minstrels. Colin and Celia were inseparable, in spite of all efforts to include them in the ongoing entertainment. Colin held her hand tightly and glared menacingly at any who approached to kiss the bride with anything but the most respectful attitude. And he was particularly threatening when Alec Macpherson took momentary possession of Celia's hand.
“Celia,” Alec said in a confident
ial tone, ignoring Colin's ominous presence. “I was just having an interesting conversation with the Archbishop about annulments.”
“Macpherson...” Colin growled over Celia's laughter.
“Everyone! Please come into the South Hall!” Dunbar called out. “We have a wee bit of entertainment for you.”
The priest looked over at Alec and Colin, each holding one of Celia's hands, and shook his head questioningly. “Lord and Lady Campbell? Would you and Lord Alec care to join us?”
Without any attempt to hide the action Colin detached Alec's hand from Celia's and put himself between the two as they started for the South Hall entrance.
Everyone filed through the double doors and took places along the wall beneath the windows as Runt disappeared through the entrance and returned in a moment, giving Father William a nod. All was ready.
“Lord Colin, if you would be so kind as to play the part of the Lover,” the poet priest requested, beckoning Colin to a place a bit more than halfway down the hall from the entrance. Colin stood undecided for a long moment, to the obvious enjoyment of those looking on.
“And if I could borrow your lovely bride, just for a short while, to play the part of the Lady Beloved,” Dunbar continued.
Runt took Celia's arm, and Colin stopped him with a look. “If anything happens to her, Runt...” the giant warned.
“It's a happy ending, Lord Colin.” Runt smiled weakly. “I will not take my eyes off her.”
With a grunt of grudging resignation, Colin let go of her hand, and Runt led her from the hall.
“Lord Hugh, Lady Agnes, Lord Alec?” Father William continued. “If you would kindly accompany the exquisite Lady Campbell...or rather, the Lady Beloved...to your preordained position.”
As Celia passed Colin, her smile was enough to warm the entire hall, and everyone in attendance felt it—but none more than the bridegroom. Colin found himself wishing this day to be over, and all the guests either gone or safely tucked in, especially Alec. As his eyes followed the beauty...the Beloved...through the entrance, Colin found himself wishing...
The Thistle and the Rose Page 29
