“That they will,” Adam agreed. “So let us get it over with.”
They changed back into their finery and Adam gave her one last kiss before he led her downstairs. “You are mine now,” he said firmly. Then he took her hand and led her downstairs.
When they emerged into the great hall they found that the feasting and drinking had started without them, and there were very few people who were completely steady on their feet. There was a great cheer when they emerged, and many sly winks and suggestive comments, but neither Adam nor Emilia cared.
They dutifully ate and mingled with their guests, then Emilia, under pretense of getting some fresh air, went back to the bedroom, where Adam joined her a moment later.
“Will they not miss us?” Emilia asked, frowning.
“Do you care?” Adam replied as he folded his arms around her.
Emilia shook her head. “Not one bit!” she laughed.
And then it all began again, and nobody missed them, nobody at all, because the whisky was flowing freely, there was music to dance to, and enough food to feed the whole of Perth. The bride and groom were forgotten amongst the revelry, but they were having their own celebration.
Father Gordon, having performed the ceremony, felt rather sad and alone. While he rejoiced that he was performing one of the most joyous rites of passage for any young couple, one that started a new journey for them, he always felt a little envious. He had taken vows of celibacy which he observed very strictly, and had never regretted it, but sometimes he was extremely lonely and longed for someone to talk to.
He sighed and told himself off for being so maudlin, then fetched a lantern and went to see Laird Malcolm’s grave.
He knelt down beside the granite stone which was already beginning to be covered in lichen and moss, then crossed himself and began to talk to his old friend as though he were still alive.
“Well, Malcolm, it is a joyous day. Your protégé Adam has done you proud. He has married not only the prettiest girl in the village, but the kindest and the best. I hope you are looking down from heaven and rejoicing in their happiness, but spare a thought for Manny Gordon, who misses you every day. Rest well, old friend.”
Then he stood up and read the words on the headstone, which Malcolm had asked him to compose. He had asked Father Gordon to keep them simple.
They read:Malcolm Kenneth Mackintosh. He was the kindest and wisest man in all of Scotland.
