When they came to the vows, Duncan knelt down on one knee and carefully slid his mother’s gold wedding ring onto her finger.
He said lovingly, “Eliza, you are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me, and I love you more than words can ever say. You almost gave your life for me, and for that, I owe you everything. I am honoured to be the man who will love you and protect you for the rest of our lives. Will you be my wife?”
“Yes, Duncan, my love, I will,” Eliza replied with a radiant smile. “I am honoured to be marrying you, and if we are blessed with children, I vow to be the best wife and mother I can be.”
Then she produced a small square of tartan from a pocket of her dress and pinned it to his kilt. It was embroidered with their intertwined initials.
“With this, I give you everything I have, and all that I am. Will you be my husband, Duncan?”
“Of course I will,” he replied, kissing her.
The minister smiled at them both as he pronounced them husband and wife, then they made their way back into the Great Hall, where the formality of the wedding feast had to be endured.
Duncan looked down at the little patch of fabric on his kilt. “Did you make this, Eliza?” he asked.
“I did,” she replied. “After all, a wife must look after her husband.”
Duncan laughed softly and pulled Eliza into his arms. “I am so lucky to have found you, Lady Sinclair,” he said in wonder. “And your dress is lovely. I cannot wait to take it off, though.” His eyes were twinkling with mischief.
Eliza giggled. “Remember, we have to be polite to our guests. Your wishes will have to wait.”
Neither Eliza nor Duncan were particularly interested in eating, but were obliged to do so as a courtesy to their guests, so they put on a brave face and did their duty as hosts.
When the dancing began, they took their places on the floor first and started with the waltz that Duncan had requested. Eliza had never been quite at ease with the intimacy of the dance, but since she was with her husband, it felt smooth, easy, and right.
When the Scottish country dances began, the servants and their families joined in. Spirits rose high; there was no status or rank, and the kitchen maids danced with Lairds, gentlemenfarmers and rich merchants. The ladies danced with stable hands and guards, the ale flowed, children played and ran around the Great Hall, and there was a general atmosphere of freedom and bonhomie.
One of the manservants, a small, sturdy groom, stood on the table and called for silence while he made a toast.
“Tae Laird an’ Lady Sinclair! May they have health an’ happiness for the rest o’ their lives! Sláinte Mhath!”
“Sláinte Mhath!” came the joyful chorus.
“This is exactly how I wanted it to be,” Duncan said contentedly as he watched the children playing by the fire.
Every one of them had been given a new toy by the Laird and Lady, and they were all making the most of their gifts.
“I am so happy, Duncan,” Eliza breathed.
“I can think of something even better, though.” Duncan’s voice was mischievous, and his eyes twinkled wickedly.
Eliza giggled. “Really, My Laird? Please show me.”
“Of course, My Lady Wife,” Duncan said, bowing.
When Eliza stood up, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the Great Hall to the accompaniment of a massive cheer and a few lewd remarks from behind them.
“All is well,” Eliza said, smiling as she laid back in Duncan’s arms to enjoy the ride to his chamber.
“Not yet,” he replied with a cheeky smirk, “but it soon will be.”
The extremely masculine Laird’s room had been filled with flowers to welcome their arrival, and their fresh fragrance greeted Eliza and Duncan as they entered. Eliza breathed it in,knowing that this was the scent that would always remind her of their wedding day, their solemn commitment, their love.
Duncan took no time to savour it, however; he was too impatient to wait, so he set to work divesting Eliza of her dress as soon as they entered. She put up no resistance, and in a few moments the beautiful silk and velvet dress was a crumpled heap on the floor.
He was about to start on her chemise when she smacked his hand away. Duncan looked rather startled, but Eliza kissed him and laid a hand on the belt of his kilt.
“My turn,” she said wickedly.
