“Ye must eat,” she insisted, pressing the sweets upon them all. “It is a day fer sweetness.”
Another knock sounded at the door.
This time it was not Kenneth who entered, but Callum and Halvard, both splendid in their kilts and tailored jackets.
“Why,” Selene said with a smile, “ye’re all looking very fine today.”
“Aye,” Callum replied, a rare grin splitting his usually stern features. “We’ve much tae celebrate.”
Selene clapped her hands lightly, delight bubbling up within her.
“Oh, we do indeed. The menace that’s hung over us all like a dark cloud has gone.”
They had only just helped themselves to the sweets when the door opened once more.
Kenneth entered – and this time he was not alone. Father Mulcahy stood at his side.
Selene rose at once, smoothing her gown as she stepped forward to greet the elderly priest.
“Why, Faither, this is unexpected,” she said. “I see ye’ve already returned from your urgent trip to Ireland.” She extended her hand. “I trust all is well?”
Father Mulcahy frowned slightly, looking momentarily bewildered.
“Ireland?”
“Never mind, Faither,” Kenneth interjected quickly, his tone light but firm.
Selene’s brows knit for the briefest instant. She noted the exchange – and filed it away for later.
Father Mulcahy took her hand smiling kindly
“Would ye care tae join me in the chapel, Lady Selene? Ye are rather late fer yer wedding, but I believe I may just find time fer the ceremony before noon.”
She spluttered, surprise stealing her breath. Then, as his words took hold, jubilation surged through her so swiftly it left her dizzy.
“Of course,” she said, laughter threading her voice. “Apologies for my lateness.”
Elsie clapped her hands and immediately took Halvard’s arm, her face alight. Callum offered his arm to Maureen, who accepted with barely contained excitement.
With Father Mulcahy leading the way, and Kenneth and Selene following, the small party made its way down the steps and across the cobblestoned courtyard. The air was crisp, the stones outside the chapel still damp from the morning mist.
At last, after all that had come before, the wedding ceremony would take place.
They exchanged their vows before God and Father Mulcahy, the old priest’s voice steady and solemn as it bound their lives together. When at last the blessing was given and they stepped out into the light, Selene felt as though her heart might burst from her breast.
Kenneth took her into his arms, his hands firm and sure at her back as he pressed his lips to hers in their first kiss as man and wife. It was not hurried, but filled with a deep, quiet joy.
Maureen and Elsie were beside themselves, laughter and happy tears mingling as they swept ahead of the newlyweds, ushering them toward the banqueting hall.
Inside, the air was rich with the mouth-watering aromas. Kitchen maids hurried to and fro, bearing platters laden high with roasted carrots, parsnips, and neaps, steaming haggis, and a glorious goose, its skin crisped to a deep golden brown.
Selene took it all in with shining eyes, scarcely able to believe it was real. “Ye arranged this, Maureen?”
Kenneth laughed softly beside her.
“The wee sisters have been up since dawn, working in the kitchen with the cooks,” he said fondly.
As they took their seats, he reached for a decanter and filled their goblets with ruby-red wine from France, the liquid catching the light as he poured. He rose to his feet, lifting his glass.
