Lachlan stepped forward, producing the brooch given him by Marcas Blair. He pinned it to Finley’s shawl with such a light touch that, had she not been watching his every move with her own eyes, she might not have known he’d left it.
Then Finley took her father’s clasp and affixed it to Lachlan Blair’s costume. She considered for a moment running the long, sharp pin into his chest, and perhaps Lachlan had expected it, for his shoulders relaxed as she stepped away from him.
“Lachlan and Finley,” the friar said, and then drew a deep breath. “In-so-much-that-you-have-given-yourselves-to-each-other-and-to-your-clans-I-proclaim-that-you-are-now-wed-and-all-shall-acknowledge-you-as-husband-and-wife-from-this-day-forward.” The friar gasped a breath and then paused, looking over the crowd with an expression akin to surprised jubilation. He held up his hands. “The clans are joined!”
There was a hesitant pause, and then shouts rang out over the green, and Finley turned to see Blairs and Carsons greeting each other cautiously, some shaking hands. The gravity of what had happened—and her role in it—began to dawn on her.
The clans were joined.
“Now,” the friar said more quietly, leaning toward Finley and Lachlan, “we shall go in and bless this union before God in the taking of the Eucharist. And there shall be no violence from either of you. And no cursing,” he added quickly. “I am more than ready, God willing, to depart from this place before there are any more funerals to keep me here. Follow me.” He turned and opened the door, disappearing inside the darkened chapel.
Finley looked up at Lachlan, her whole being still filled with resentment for how he had humiliated her. But now he was watching her with a curious expression.
“This was not the wedding day I expected,” he said. “And I feel that there is aught left woefully unsaid.”
She wanted to believe he was remorseful, but there was a glint in his eyes that made her uneasy. And so she only nodded.
His white teeth flashed in his beard. “Your hair is like the dawn; your eyes, a gentle fawn’s…”
“I hate you,” she muttered, and made sure to tread on his foot as she turned and marched into the darkness of the chapel as if entering into a great battle. She was not heartened by the dark laugh he gave as he pursued her.
Chapter 6
The green was once more ringed with torchlight, but this time the wide circle contained a sphere of merriment and celebration as the two clans drank and danced and sang late into the night. Lachlan sat alone at the bridal table at the head of the inner circle, his elbows on the planks, a tankard in his hands that seemed to magically fill each time he emptied it. Well, he was alone save for the redheaded shrew on his left, to whom he paid no heed, choosing instead to watch the revelers twirl and spin across the green, appearing to possess a happiness Lachlan himself feared he would never again come close to. Thankfully, his new bride had just as much to say to Lachlan as he had to her.
He caught sight of Dand across the way, particularly immersed in quiet conversation with the diminutive blonde Carson woman, much to the apparent chagrin of Searrach, who also sat alone at a nearby table and glared at the pair. Apparently, Searrach’s loyalty was to the future chief of the Blair clan only. Lachlan’s insides burned, both with envy and resentment.
Sudden movement on his left reluctantly drew his attention, and he turned his head to look up at Finley Carson, now standing.
“I’m going home,” she said. There were little shadows under her eyes, and her fairy face was pale and small with sadness.
“Follow along after you like a pup, shall I?” Lachlan shot at her, a little surprised at the comfortable slur in his words. He’d gotten properly drunk and hadn’t even realized it. “Or maybe you’re just eager for the wedding night, eh? Hoping I’ll get a babe on you before you bite my head off and eat me.” He purposefully let his gaze rove over her body.
Her expression didn’t change and she said nothing, only turned from the table and disappeared into the darkness beyond the green.
But others must have been watching for her to leave, for now raucous masculine shouts echoed up into the sky, and before Lachlan could think of defending himself, he was seized by no fewer than four men, Cordon Blair leading the charge, and carried into the darkness. Their calls and songs were good-natured, but even so far into his cups, Lachlan could hear the roughness behind their meaning and felt little friendship in their jests when they flung him across the saddle of his waiting horse and slapped its rear, sending the mount charging into the darkness with a startled whinny before Lachlan could struggle aright in his seat.
He galloped past another on the path, the crown of his head just grazing some part of horse or rider, and he strained to pull himself aright. But the horse stiffened its forelegs and skidded sideways, throwing Lachlan head over heels against the wall of a longhouse before bolting back toward the faint glow of the town green.
He groaned as he turned himself over to sit on his proper end, then leaned his back against the dwelling. His stomach churned and his head throbbed and he wondered if he was going to vomit. Hoof falls came from the darkness, and when he looked up, there was Finley Carson, astride, holding the reins to his runaway horse.
Of course.
He shifted his eyes from her as he staggered to his feet and took the leather leads. The fall had done much to clear his head, though, so that he only had one false start in pulling himself up into the saddle. She was already riding into the edge of the wood when Lachlan gained her side.
“No one’s following us,” he said, immediately regretting the imbecilic phrase. He was truly drunk.
“Sure, they wished to give the happy couple privacy,” Finley quipped. And then, “They’ll be along in the morning, with the rest of the supplies.”
“Ah, aye—the supplies,” Lachlan said, unable to keep the sneer from his tone. “The spoils from Carson Town’s victory.”
Only the soft, warm spring darkness answered his words, studded with the peeping of frogs and night insects. She was ignoring him.
Shewas ignoringhim.
“So, how many suitorsdidyou have?” Lachlan pressed, unable to stop himself from goading her.
Finley Carson kicked at her horse’s sides and left Lachlan riding alone in the darkness. He didn’t bother chasing her.
