She cuddled his daughter, who stopped crying and watched her with wide, guileless eyes. Fenella’s chest swelled with love for this wee lass. How could she abandon her? But how could she trust her father?
When the rest of the family arrived, Keenan announced, “Fenella requested ye all hear what I have said to her, so that ye may judge whether she can trust me or nay.” He stood tall and confessed it all, every fear, every misstep, every slight he’d inflicted on her, including many things Fenella had not been aware of. Gasps greeted his words. But as he finished, so did smiles.
Fenella regretted putting him through this, but the expressions on his family’s faces told her the truth Keenan wanted her to see and hear. He was sincere. His mother summed it up. “Ach, Keenan, ye nearly threw away the woman ye love, and the mother to yer daughter. I’m glad to see ye coming to yer senses. If ye didna, Gregor would have to marry her, for I will have her for a daughter, nay matter if ’tis despite ye.”
That got a laugh from everyone except Fenella and Gregor, whose face turned ashen. As much as Fenella appreciated his mother’s sentiment, Gregor had been her harshest accuser. She couldn’t look at him, much less think to marry him. His dismayat his mother's jest served him right, but she dreaded that comment being repeated and the jests it would inspire about her running out of brothers toalmostwed.
“Dinna fash, brother,” Keenan told him. “She’s mine, and I willna give her up. If she’ll have me.”
When he stopped talking and turned to her, she took a breath and went to his side. She believed him.
He put an arm around her waist, and careful not to dislodge her hold on his daughter, leaned in and whispered, “So ye will take the time I offered ye?”
She shook her head. “Nay.” At his crestfallen look, she added, “I dinna need it.”
He straightened, hope in his eyes. “Then marry me now. I will call the priest to marry us here. With any witnesses ye care to name. Trust me, Fenella. Marry me, love me, and be the mother to our bairns.”
Warmth filled her, and relief eased the ache in her chest. “I will.”
Keenan kissed her then, and her heart soared. His kiss was sweet, gentle, yet full of promise. It was the kiss of the Keenan she had fallen in love with and had hoped was still inside him. Despite all the hurt, the fear, and the anger that had fallen between them, she believed they loved each other enough to make a good life together, no matter what else came their way.
She wouldn’t even object to Gregor remaining for the ceremony. She suspected that despite having escorted the wet nurse away from MacNabb, he would need to see his brother wed her to fully believe in her innocence.
Keenan called for a lad to fetch the priest, then turned to his family. “We await only the priest to be wed. To right the wrongs I have done to Fenella and to prove my love for her. To regain the trust she freely gave that I abused.”
“Ye certainly did,” Gavan muttered, making Keenan wince.
The priest entered then and Keenan explained again why they were gathered. Gavan stood by his brother, pulled a length of the MacNabb plaid from his shoulder and handed it to the priest for the hand fasting.
“We want more than that first step,” Keenan demanded. “We will be wed, but here rather than at the kirk.”
“I understand,” the priest said, cognizant of the pain of the old laird’s recent death there. His agreement gave Fenella a much needed sense of anticipation. Her heart fluttered in her chest, butterfly wings tickling the insides of her ribs and belly.
Before the priest could start, Marsali pulled a rolled parchment from her sleeve, and with her gaze on Fenella, unrolled it, tore it in half, and tossed it on the fire.
“What are ye doing?” Keenan demanded, his sharp tone making Máirín rouse and cry out. Fenella soothed her and she dropped off to sleep again.
“Fenella can tell ye later,” Marsali said softly, her gaze on the bairn. “Yer mother is right. Ye being boneheaded nearly cost ye everything worth having in this life. ’Tis glad I am to see ye have come to yer senses.”
Fenella smiled at her friend, grateful that she’d been willing to help, and glad her help was no longer needed.
Keenan gave Fenella a quizzical look which she waved off. If he thought for a moment, he’d realize Marsali had destroyed a letter to her father. If not, she’d tell him later.
At Keenan’s urging, Fenella handed Máirín to Marsali. Once Fenella was unburdened, he nodded to the priest to begin.
The priest performed the hand fasting according to the old ways, then an abbreviated ceremony of marriage. As he finished, a lad arrived with the register of marriage from the kirk for them to sign.
The priest handed Keenan the quill, and Fenella held her breath as he bent to sign his name. The sense of rightness thathad filled her all those days ago on the kirk’s steps came back into her. It was over. Despite what had come between them since that day, nothing ever would again.
Keenan took Fenella in his arms and kissed her soundly.
“’Tis done, wife,” he told her.
“Lady MacNabb,” his mother added and handed her the ring of chatelaine’s keys. “Ye have chosen well, laird.”
“About time,” Marsali muttered, eliciting a laugh from everyone, including wee Máirín.
Their approval gave Fenella the confidence to face Keenan’s family with a smile. She belonged with them now, as she had long wished to do. MacNabb would thrive, and so would their marriage and the family they would make together.
