Delphine pulled her into a hug. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ll make a fine wife, and an excellent mother if the fates bless ye with a child. As to being Lady MacPherson… well, I cannot imagine anyone better. A healer as a lady? That will be a fine thing.”
Emma smiled at that. “Thank ye, Delphine. That means a lot.”
Delphine moved back, cupping Emma’s face in her hands. “And Thomas will make ye happy, I’m sure of that. I’d not have let the marriage go ahead otherwise.”
Emma chuckled. “How would ye have prevented it?”
“I have my ways,” Delphine said mildly.
She didn’t elaborate, and Emma was glad she didn’t.
The day of Laird MacPherson’s wedding to a healer’s apprentice dawned fine and clear. It was a cold day, with a frost lingering over the fields and forests, the breeze sharp and icy. Still, the skies were blue, and the sun shone, melting whatever frost it could reach.
A good day for a wedding.
The ceremony itself went by in a rush of serious tradition that Emma hardly understood. A laird’s wedding wasn’t like the wedding of two peasants. They were married in the Great Hall, with all the courtiers and officials present, along with their families. Dominic was there, of course, as well as Veronica and Colby, beaming proudly. The local people crowded in after them, all craning their necks to get a glimpse of the spectacle.
Emma kept her head up and smiled. She waved before she remembered her green-stained fingers and hastily dropped them again.
But the people had already seen them.
“Sheisa healer!” somebody cried, and the crowd broke out in applause and cheers.
Blushing, Emma turned back to Thomas, who was grinning.
“They like ye,” he murmured, his voice low. “They have good taste.”
One of the chief councilors, Tabitha, greeted her personally with a wide smile. The others seemed a little shocked and confused by the whole thing. Maybe they hadn’t expected Thomas to actually go through with the wedding.
Riley sniffled into a handkerchief for the whole ceremony, and Delphine beamed with pride as if it were her own daughter getting married.
“I now pronounce ye man and wife,” the priest announced, and the room exploded into cheers and applause.
Emma laughed at the raucous shouting, stepping closer to Thomas. His hand found hers in the folds of her silk skirts.
“Shall we have a breather before they serve up the feast?” he murmured. “Nobody will know if we go missing.”
A flash of desire, white-hot and aching, shot through Emma. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.
“Are ye sure we won’t be missed?” she asked nervously.
“I’m sure of it,” he said confidently. “Besides, I want to show ye our new bedchamber.”
“Good Lord,” Emma gasped. That was all she could manage. “GoodLord.”
“Do ye like it?” Thomas asked, a hint of nerves in his voice.
She took in the fine set of apartments once again, trying to find a way to describe the opulence.
Thomas had decided that they should have a new set of chambers all of their own. That way, she wouldn’t have to move into hisroom and try to make space for herself.
The apartments he’d chosen were low-ceilinged so as not to prove too difficult to heat. There was a good-sized parlor room packed with furniture and lit by a large, crackling fire. The bedroom was slightly larger, dominated by a vast four-poster bed. There were furs and drapes of velvet everywhere, and the bed itself was piled high with quilts, feather beds, and blankets.
“I just want to run and jump onto that bed,” Emma murmured. “It looks so soft.”
Thomas was suddenly behind her, his warm breath whispering over her neck, his hands sliding around her waist.
“That could be arranged,” he murmured, his voice a low growl.
