“You bloody idiot, the wedding was a fake! Fee, I am so sorry, we’ll have this annulled as quickly as I can manage.” Alec was purple with rage, the maddest I had seen him since we’d met, which was again quite the accomplishment. But his eyes.
Those poisonous green eyes were as sad as sad could be.
I understood him. I understood why he was looking at me like that, two emotions tearing him in half.
I took the paper from him, folded it back up, and slipped it into his still somehow intact breast pocket. “Thank you, Lachlan, that was very helpful of you.”
“You're welcome, and you might want to teach that man of yours a few manners, Mrs.”
“Fee,” Alec said, his voice grave.
“I said I do, so I guess I do.Do you?”
The confusion on his face was adorable. Then a smile, bright and toothy and wolfy and even a little Godkingish broke across his handsome face like I think he’d never smiled before. It looked like it hurt and felt wonderful at the same time.
“You do?”
“I do.Do you?” I asked again.
“I do.”
It was the first time we’d ever said ‘I love you’ to each other, and it went about as well as it could for two people like us. There would be trouble ahead, and problems and we would fight about every little thing. But that was ok. We both needed a little chaos to feel normal.
Right then, oh, right then everything was fine. We held each other’s arms and laughed and laughed at what idiots we both were.
At that moment, Grandad came out of the house, with Sorchaand he helping Da, who looked better than he had when he’d gone into the basement, though very pale. Alastair rushed over to them with a chair. Da sat while Sorcha fussed over her husband, who looked no worse than if he’d had a rough day picking out a new tie.
“I think we need to go eat crow with your father,” Alec said.
“Just show him the marriage certificate. He’ll be all smiles in no time.”
While we had sorted out our married state, wounds were bandaged, rubble cleared, and the bodies whisked away to Grandad’s scrubland, the Lady Elspeth had marshaled her sons and daughters in law - Cameron excepted - found the band where they were crouched behind the bar drinking shots, had extra canapes brought out of the catering vans, and started the reception.
“Mrs. Davies, Mr. Davies, if you are feeling up to it would you very much mind having your first dance? A few of the guests have expressed an interest in dancing themselves and obviously I cannot allow it until you have your first dance,” she said, looking up at both of us, clearly disappointed. It was like two vultures being shamed by one of my willow tits.
Alec bowed, despite his rags, his manner was impeccable, “Fee? Shall we?”
I took his hand and we moved to the center of the still perfectly intact dance floor, now lit by the bonfire and the dozen or so candles that had been salvaged. “What are we dancing to?” I whispered.
“Had something in mind. I told the band just in case we made it to the end of the evening. It’s something special that will always remind me of our very first date,” he said, eyes twinkling.
I frowned. Then the band struck up, and Alec’sarm glided about my waist and he spun me quickly and gracefully, pressed to his long body. Lucky he was a strong lead, since I’d taken one waltz lesson as a girl from Grandad and gave it up for a bad idea.
For a good minute he waltzed me about the floor as I tried to figure out what was playing, the sometimes smiling and sometimes amused faces of our friends, our enemies, our families, a blur.
Then it hit me.
‘West End Girls.’ Played in waltz time.
And I took a fiddle laugh.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
In which family is celebrated and finally,finallya proper consummation.
Alec…
“Martin.”
