“I think your entire clan kens after those lads caught us in the hayloft. You aren’t very quiet,” Ronan teased.
“I’m not very quiet?” Abigail snorted. “I wasn’t the one bellowing like a stuck boar. They came to investigate your noises, not mine.”
“Are you excited, Abby?” Ronan asked quietly. Abigail rolled onto her belly and propped herself up with a forearm on Ronan’s chest.
“Ronan, we both ken we’re already married, but aye. I’m extremely excited to be officially married. It’s not the feast I look forward to. It’s not the wedding night—though I can think of a few things I would like to try again. I’m excited because as much as I join your clan today, you join my family. I may be Abigail MacKinnon now, but you are part of the MacLeods’ family.” Abigail chuckled. “At least the good MacLeods. Those on Skye won’t be jumping to call you kin.”
“I love you, Abby MacKinnon,” Ronan nuzzled her nose. Their affection sparked into desire, just as it always did. They missed the morning meal. Again.
* * *
Abigail froze midway down the stairs, Ronan walking ahead before he realized she had stopped. He looked back and caught Abigail’s awed expression. He came back to stand beside her and swept his eyes over the Great Hall below them. Maude and the servants had transformed it into a Christmas wonderland. Abigail covered her gaping mouth with her hands as tears came to her eyes. Her clan always celebrated the Savior’s birth with both reverence and exuberance, but never had she seen the keep so decorated. Someone had draped garlands of evergreen and holly over the hearths and over the doorways. Servants had festooned the laird’s table with garlands and sprigs of mistletoe. The fresh rushes smelled of pine and lavender, her favorite scents. There were fresh candles in every holder, and the silver sparkled. She watched as people continued to move about, setting out more garland. Delicious and rich scents wafted to her from the kitchens. She covered her stomach as her belly rumbled.
“Mayhap we shouldn’t have missed the morning meal after all,” Ronan winked. He took Abigail’s hand and led her down the stairs. She looked around the castle that had once been her home. Memories of past Christmases danced before her eyes. She had a moment of sadness that her mother was no longer alive to share in the festivities. Adeline had died just before Abigail left for court. Her mother’s death spurred her to leave and make a fresh start at court. But now, as she stood beside Ronan, she had only happy memories of the holiday. Abigail knew Maude’s family celebrated Christmas and Epiphany with great fanfare, but Adeline had always been especially attentive to Christmas. She’d argued that Epiphany may have been when the wise men visited Jesus, but there wouldn’t be any point if Christ hadn’t been born. Abigail smiled to herself as her heart warmed. She glanced up at the rafters as though she might see through them all the way to Heaven.
Maude approached with her twins grasping each hand, and her younger daughter tied to her back with the embroidered sheet Abigail gave Maude. She hadn’t been able to wait when she saw her niece tied to Maude’s back with an older plaid.
“I still have much to do,” Maude explained. “Abigail, would ye take the twins, please? Ronan, the men are aboot to leave to chop down the Yule logs.”
Ronan dropped a kiss on Abigail’s forehead before he hurried across the keep, his plaid swishing around his legs. Abigail’s mind jumped to what she knew hid beneath his plaid.
“Ye will have plenty of time to ogle yer husband this eve after ye run away from the feast,” Maude teased.
“Run away? We won’t be rude and leave early,” Abigail assured.
Maude’s peal of laughter made her daughter stir with an angry gurgle. “I’ve seen yer gown, Abigail. Ronan willna be as interested in the roast goose as ye may think. And I suspect seeing him in his formal dress will make ye just as impatient. It may have been a few years ago, but I still remember being a bride. Just ye wait and see, sister.”
Maude laughed again before cooing to her daughter. Abigail took her niece and nephew up to the nursery, where she sang and read to them and sat on the floor surrounded by their toys. She welcomed the midday meal of soup along with leeks and onion porray, her favorite type of stew, since her belly continued to rumble. The scent of roasting meat made her mouth water after a month of going without. She’d feared she would collapse if she had to wait until after the wedding and Christmas Mass to eat. Once she was called down for the meal, the hours sped by until it was time for her to prepare for the wedding.
Seventeen
Ronan forgot the cold the moment Abigail stepped into his view. He was certain it was an angel floating toward him rather than a mortal woman. Her blue gown was trimmed with wool along the collar, sleeves, and hem. She’d chosen the embellishment for its practicality. She knew she would have to stand before the church in December, so she added it to help her keep warm. She wore a MacKinnon plaid as her new arisaid. Her eyes had watered when Ronan presented the plaid to her at the midday meal. She’d nearly toppled them over in her exuberance to thank him. She’d held onto the plaid Ronan lent her while they were traveling, and she still wore it often. But it came as a surprise when Ronan presented her with a plaid made with the laird’s family’s formal pattern rather than the hunting one, and it was the right length for a woman. More than one randy comment was called out to remind her how to show her appreciation.
Her greenish blue eyes were a close match to her gown’s fabric, and they sparkled in the late afternoon sun. The soft tones of the approaching dusk did little to dim how her raven locks shone, and the berries in her mistletoe crown distracted him with thoughts of how he wished to kiss her. Ronan was certain only a celestial being could be so perfect.
Abigail rued her short stature as she attempted to peer around and between people to catch sight of Ronan. Her breath hitched when her clan members parted, and she saw the full length of him. Dressed in a saffron leine befitting a laird, Ronan wore a freshly pleated plaid with his laird’s brooch polished until it gleamed. His freshly washed hair was still wet at the ends, and he was clean-shaven. She didn’t mind when his beard grew in, but she was happy to have an unrestricted view of his face. Her lips twitched as she thought about how much taller Ronan had appeared compared to the courtiers at Stirling Castle, but among the Hebridean men of her clan, he looked merely average.
There is naught merely average aboot any part of him. Aye, ladies, feast yer eyes on what ye can see, and I shall feast ma mouth on what ye canna.Abigail struggled to fight the smug smile that pulled at her mouth as she watched the women stare at Ronan. She didn’t bother stopping her salacious thoughts. When she came to stand even with him, he offered her his hands. He didn’t notice as the priest bound their wrists or laid a swath of MacKinnon plaid over them.
“M ’aingeal.”My angel, Ronan whispered reverently. “You have saved me from myself, and surely any place beside you is Heaven.”
Abigail swallowed the lump in her throat as she tried to think of something as equally endearing to say, but her mind was blank. She managed to whisper, “I shall love you, on Earth and in Heaven.”
They recited their vows, hurrying from excitement along with the cold. While the priest normally would have held the wedding Mass for only the couple’s family, the clan followed them into the kirk to celebrate both their marriage and Christmas. The service passed in a blur as Abigail and Ronan kneeled, their arms brushing against one another. When their hands weren’t clasped in prayer, they were clasped together. Before Abigail realized it was over, the church bells pealed, and Ronan helped her to her feet. Neither cared that their kiss was far too long for a church setting. Ronan swept Abigail into his arms and carried her to the Great Hall.
Abigail sat beside Ronan as course after course made their way to the tables. The servants presented a roasted boar’s head that sat in a place of prominence on the laird’s table. Dishes of trout, herring, and eel made up the fish course. Roasted mutton and veal accompanied the boar that Ronan killed. Maude patted Kieran’s shoulder and gave him a gentle kiss when the geese arrived, and Kieran’s contribution was half the size of the fowl Ronan caught. Kieran playfully pouted and none-too-quietly reminded Maude that she would console his bruised feelings later.
Abigail knew she overindulged in the cheese brought out for dessert, but she’d missed her favorite food. Ronan fed her thick fruit custard, while she was slow to draw her fingers away when she placed figs in his mouth. The clan made toasts of good health and prosperity throughout the meal, and more than one woman reminded Abigail that the mistletoe she wore in her hair would aid with fertility. Abigail blushed and thanked them for their well wishes.
“We shall have to see if they’re right. I think I shall strip you of your very fetching gown and take you to bed with just that halo on,” Ronan whispered. His warm breath made her shiver. When she turned to look at him, their lips brushed.
“It’s not a halo,” she smiled.
“It is to me. I was serious, Abby. I have never been so confident as I have been in the past weeks. I’ve enjoyed my time among your people and haven’t feared saying the wrong thing or misstepping. It’s been freeing and heavenly. I have you to thank for that.”
Abigail reached up and nudged Ronan’s face toward hers before pressing a lingering kiss. The couple ignored the cheers and wagers about whether their autumn babe would be a lad or a lass. They danced thrice, then slipped away to Ronan’s chamber, where Abigail had taken up residence since their arrival. Ronan was true to his word; they landed on the bed without a stitch of clothing, and Abigail only wore her mistletoe halo. The MacLeods only spied the newlyweds for meals between Christmas and Hogmanay.
Eighteen
