We knelt on a pair of red cushions that had been purposefully placed in front of the wooden altar, and the ceremony was underway.
The words spoken by the minister seemed far away and drifting. I was focused only on Wilkie’s dazzling face and the warmth of his hand, which enveloped mine in a steady, devoted grasp. He was further bejeweled and illuminated by the colored light offered by a stained glass window set into the nearby wall. Red, orange and green hues colored his hair and the white of his shirt. His blue eyes, which had changed me and claimed me from the very first moment I gazed into them, were devout with love.
And he was gently pulling me to my feet as we were asked then to exchange our vows.
“Do you,” began the minister, “W—”
“The king!” a man shouted from the open door of the chapel. “The king has arrived!”
All eyes turned to the rear of the chapel.
“Minister,” said Wilkie. “We may ask the king to witness our vows, since he has arrived early.”
“As you wish, Wilkie,” said the minister.
After several minutes of fanfare and excitable murmuring throughout the chapel and out-of-doors, the king himself appeared in the door, like an apparition. Tall and robed, his dark silhouette was outlined by the sunlight.
Everyone stood.
The king, followed closely by four armed guards, walked toward us. His attention, as he drew closer,remained locked on my face, watching me with lively interest as he studied me.
He looked to be around fifty years old. His long hair was dark brown in color, as was his beard, which had streaks of gray laced through it. The first detail of him that reached out to me was his eyes. The shape of them, so similar to my own. It was the first time I had ever met someone related to me by blood, and I could not only see the resemblance, I couldfeelit as a connective, visceral link.
“My child,” he said. His voice was deep and had a distinctive gravelly texture to it that sounded pleasing to my ears. The tone of it was comforting, and...fatherly. Not familiar but somehow still etched within me.
Without hesitation, yet gently, he wrapped his arms and the lavish garments he wore around me and gave me an honest, heartfelt hug. His embrace felt strangely restorative, and I felt myself sigh, drawing in the kingly scent of him and along with it an unfamiliar sense of well-being, of security and most of all, of resolution.
“Roses,” he said.
“Father,” I whispered, and only after I uttered the word, I hoped it wasn’t inappropriate, that I should have called him “King William” or “Your Royal Highness” or some other greeting that befitted his unequaled status.
His wide smile more than reassured me.
After several moments, the king looked at Wilkie.
“You are Roses’s husband?” the king asked.
“Aye. Almost. Wilkie Mackenzie,” he said, bowing. “’Tis a great honor, Your Majesty.”
“If you would allow it,” said the king, “I would request to conduct the ceremony myself.”
“I thank you, Your Royal Highness,” Wilkie said. “We would be humbled, and honored.”
Wilkie’s hand was on my shoulder. “Would you like to see Roses’s tattoo, Your Majesty?” Wilkie asked.
“Indeed I would,” the king replied. “Although I do not need to see it to know that she is the child of Sophia, my cherished mistress, now gone to me. She was as blonde as you are, Roses, as refined and green-eyed. You look so very much like her,” the king said, somewhat wistfully.
Wilkie loosened the ties of my dress and lowered the bodice just slightly at the back to reveal the mark. Unhurriedly, the king touched my tattoo, studying it closely. “Aye, ’tis the seal I made for Sophia. See the curl of theSand the design of three roses, her favorite flower. I can confirm that you, Roses, are the child lost to me for so many years. I am so very pleased to have found you.”
“And I,” I whispered, “am very pleased to be found.”
Wilkie refastened my dress, and I turned to face the king.
“Your mother was the love of my life,” he said to me. “Her beauty was astounding, her sweetness very nearly divine. Her fair hair and sea-green eyes were the envy of all who met her, my wife included.” He paused, temporarily lost in his memories. “Sophia was killed by my wife’s assassins, but not before Sophia succeeded in marking and hiding you. I have searched for you ever since.” He addressed Laird Mackenzie and Wilkie. “So I must thank you, Mackenzies, for bringing her home. Your loyalty is highly admirable, as was your father’s. I have heard much about your family’s prowess on the battlefield. Wilkie, I have every faith that you will honorme well as the new laird of my Highlands crown. So, let’s get this marriage underway.”
There was a small cheer from the congregation. The minister handed the ceremonial book to the king with a deep bow, and the king began.
“Do you, Wilkie Mackenzie, take my daughter, Roses Stuart, to be your lawfully wedded wife?” He continued to recite the vows and asked for Wilkie’s response.
