And malicious and destructive and—well, Kimberly wouldn’t have to figure the girl out after tonight. Nessa could be as complicated as she liked, as long as she was doing it across the lake and not at Castle Kregora.
They’d spoken a bit more before Lachlan returned. And not long after, the wedding ceremony took place, right there in the parlor.
Nessa continued to look mutinous. She hadn’t changed her clothes into something more appropriate for the occasion, or fixed her hair. She hadn’t eaten any of the food offered to her. And she refused to answer the questions put to her during the wedding.
But it was a MacGregor performing the ceremony for them, and whenever he got no response from Nessa when she was supposed to respond, he would simply look up at the crowd and say something to the effect of, “And the MacGregor says she agrees, which is good enough for me.”
A bit medieval in Kimberly’s opinion, but Nessa certainly didn’t seem surprised that she was getting married without her permission, and neither did anyone else. And when it was over, the soft-spoken, unpretentious Gavin Kern let out a whoop of joy, tossed Nessa over his shoulder, and walked out with her like a conquering hero.
The MacGregors cheered at this bold display. And Nessa finally found her voice to shout, “I’ve got feet, you lummox. Put me down!”
Gavin replied with a hearty laugh, “No’ until I’ve got you safely stowed away on my side o’ the loch, Nessa m’darlin’.”
“If you’re thinking marriage gives you the upper hand—” Nessa paused to rethink that, because marriage did in fact do that. But stubbornly she maintained, “Well, we’ll be seeing about that.”
Beside Kimberly, Lachlan said, “Aye, I’ve put her in capable hands, I’m thinking.”
Kimberly gave him a sideways glance. “It sounds as if she disagrees with that.”
Lachlan grinned at her. “Nay, she’d be swearing tae cut out his heart if she bore any malice toward him. I give it a month and she’ll be thanking me.”
“Or swearing to cut outyourheart.”
He laughed, and in front of the whole assemblage, kissed her soundly. The cheers went up again. And even though she was embarrassed by the display, she was warmed by those cheers. At least the rest of the MacGregors accepted her. And Nessa—well, Nessa was a Kern now.
As eventful as the day was, and emotional for Kimberly, she retired early that night. Lachlan made his excuses to the guests so he could join her, but he didn’t try to make love to her as she thought he would. He just held her in his arms and whispered soothing bits of nonsense when she started crying again. And most of those tears weren’t for her mother’s things. They were because she didn’t think she could get back to being blasé about Lachlan’s not loving her, now that she knew for certain that her heart wasn’t her own anymore, that it now belonged completely to him.
50
It was about a week later that the riders showed up, some thirty or forty of them—they were hard to count, all wearing the same red and green tartan baldrics across their heavy coats. They rode across the drawbridge as if they owned the castle, and lined up in the inner court before the greater tower shouting for the MacGregor to come out.
Lachlan witnessed their arrival from the parlor with a good deal of dread mixed with annoyance, and figured he had Nessa to thank for their appearance. She’d probably sent off a message to them in a fit of pique and even if she’d regretted it after, it would have been too late. And now they were here. There was nothing for it but to go out and deal with them, and harshly if necessary.
But when he threw open the front doors, it was to see Kimberly just reaching them. She’d been leaving the stable when they arrived, and warily worked her way around the riders to get back to the hall, not knowing who they were. Lachlan would as soon keep it that way for now.
So he grabbed her about the waist and ushered her into the hall, closing the doors on her with the admonishment to “Stay inside.”
Phrased like that, as an order and without explanation, it was little wonder she didn’t obey, curious lass that she was. The doors opened again just as he shouted, “I’m Lachlan MacGregor. What is it you’re wanting?”
A dark-haired young man in the center of the line had apparently been elected their spokesman. “We’ve been tald ye’ve got our sister here. We’ve come tae have a look at her.”
“You’reallo’ you her brothers?” Lachlan asked incredulously
“Nay,” the spokesman said and raised an arm.
At that signal, one horse moved forward out of the line, then another, then another. By the time they finished, it was damned near half of them and just as bad.
And then Kimberly whispered at Lachlan’s back, “Who are they talking about?”
“You, darlin’,” Lachlan said with a sigh. “They’re MacFearsons, the lot o’ them.” Then to the speaker, “You can see her, but dinna be thinking you can take her wi’ you. She belongs to Kregora now and tae me.”
The young man nodded curtly and dismounted. Kimberly had stepped out from behind Lachlan by then, her eyes wide, staring out at that long line of horsemen. Those that had moved forward and were also dismounting were all young men, at least half near her in age, the rest of them younger still, the youngest around seven years.
Her brothers? She counted them, too awed for words. There weresixteenof them, sixteen replicas—well, they did all bear a marked resemblance. Most also had the same dark gold hair as her own, the same dark green eyes.
And Kimberly saw now where she’d gotten her height from, not her mother’s family as she’d always supposed. The one who’d spoken appeared to be the oldest among them, and he was almost as tall as Lachlan. Four others were as tall as him, five more almost as tall, and the younger ones, well, they weren’t done growing.
This was too incredible. She’d grown up with no siblings at all, and now she had—too many to count on two hands. That was one of the tales, and if that one was true, how many of the other things about the legend known as Ian MacFearson were also true?
