“I didnae expect that,” Ian replied, holding out his hand. Iris took it and he pulled her into an awkward embrace, the smell of clovers wafting over her. “Da would be so proud of ye,” he said into her ear as he held her tightly.
“He would be proud of us all,” she forced out, emotions welling in her throat. “Ye will make a wonderful laird, Ian. Our clan is in good hands with ye.”
She knew it had been difficult for them all to lose their father when he passed on in his sleep one night without warning. Ian had taken it the worst, locking himself for weeks on end in his chamber after he had been crowned laird. She had never seen her brother in such a state before.
Ian cleared his throat and stepped away, dashing his hand at his eyes.
“Shall we get ye wed then?” he asked, holding out his arm. “For I think if we delay it any longer, yer groom will be coming tae look for ye.”
“We cannae have that,” Iris laughed as she took his arm.
They walked down the stone stairs to the great hall, where their entire clan had turned out for the union. Iris couldn’t help but smile as she saw the ropes of flowers that hung from the rafters, wondering where Gretna had found them in the winter like this.
There were candles everywhere, and the sweet smell of food cooking made Iris’s stomach rumble.
But it was the sight of James that had her heart tumbling over in her chest. He was standing before one of the Wallaceelders, dressed in the ceremonial kilt of his clan, a white tunic draping his upper form. His eyes widened when he saw her, and she saw that his throat bobbed several times as they approached.
Ian unclasped her arm from his and gave her hand to James.
“Take care of mah sister,” he told the Scot, placing their hands together. “Or else I will let her kick yer arse.”
Iris blushed as she thought about their last sparring match when she had been able to pull out a win by distracting him. It wasn’t her finest win, but knowing that she had beaten him again had overridden her feelings.
“Aye,” James replied, squeezing Iris’s hand. “She is safe with me. I will protect her with mah life.”
“See that ye do,” Ian said before stepping back.
Iris gave James a smile, and he pressed his lips to the back of her hand, a promise of what they would find once they were allowed to go on to their wedding night.
She couldn’t wait.
After the ceremony was complete, James led her into their first dance as husband and wife, clasping his hand to her waist.
“Well?” he asked, his eyes alight with laughter. “Do ye regret it?”
She shook her head, her heart nearly bursting with happiness.
“Nay, I dinnae regret kicking yer arse.”
James leaned back and let out a bark of laughter, warming Iris’s very soul.
“Och, lass, ye know how tae make a Scot feel more like a man.”
She moved closer to her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck and breathing in his scent.
“Well, Husband, perhaps ye will have tae show me how much of a man ye are.”
He grinned at her, pressing his forehead to hers. “Aye, I plan tae.”
Her blood heated at the thought of them alone, together and picking up where they had started that night. He could sear her with one look, one word, yet she knew there was more.
A great deal more.
After many rounds of toasting and a feast to rival the gods, James grabbed Iris’s hand.
“Come,” he told her, tugging her toward the stairs. “I dinnae wish for anyone tae notice lest they do something tae embarrass us.”
Iris agreed and stole up the stairs with him, directing him to her chamber that had been readied for their wedding night. After James shut the door, he picked up a chair and wedged it under the knob.
