Page 35 of Highlander’s Ancient Vengeance

“Aye.” His father wiped his eyes. “Look at me, acting like a maid!”

“I understand.” Craig put his arm around Malcolm’s shoulders. “If I lost Malle I would feel the same.”

“Then I hope you never do.” His father put a hand in his pocket and drew out a little chased silver box, which he gave to Craig. He opened it, and inside was a gold crucifix on a gold chain. It sparkled and winked in the sunlight, and Craig smiled and caught his breath at its beauty.

“From your mother,” he said, and his voice was very loving. “She knew she was dying and she made me buy it for you to give you on your wedding day. She wanted you to pass it on to your son or daughter when it fits them.”

He reached around Craig’s neck and fastened the chain so that the cross hung down to his chest, resting against the slight dusting of reddish hair.

Father and son hugged each other, then Malcolm said, “Time to go, Son.”

Craig nodded and took a deep breath, then he and Malcolm walked out to the chapel so Craig could meet his destiny.

When Craig turned around he could not believe his eyes. He had expected Malle to look pretty on her wedding day, but she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. She smiled at him once then lowered her eyes modestly as her father put her hand into Craig’s. “Look after her,” he warned.

Malle stood by his side, then he turned to her and took her hand and whispered, “You are absolutely radiant, my Malle. I am the most fortunate man in the world.”

“And you are magnificent, Craig,” she replied. “No woman is happier than I am at this moment.”

For one perfect moment it seemed that there were just the two of them there, gazing into each other’s eyes and cocooned in love. Eventually they had to draw apart as the priest arrived—his old, seamed face radiant with joy.

They were being married at MacEwan Castle, but the ceremony was being conducted by Father John Baxter, at the request of the bridal couple.

After the blessing, he welcomed the congregation—who had come from both castles—to see the marriage: every last chambermaid, stable hand, and gardener was there, as well as tenant farmers and their wives. The chapel was simply too small, so they were having the nuptial Mass in the courtyard.

“Never in all my years as a priest has it given me so much pleasure to join a young couple in Holy Matrimony,” he said happily. “Why? Because not only are two souls and two families joining together, but an ancient wound is being healed. The MacEwans and the Dunbars will no longer be enemies but united in the best bond of all; the bond of love, as Craig and Malle say their vows and join their lives together forever. Let us pray.”

The Mass continued, but neither Craig nor Malle heard much of it until they came to the vows.

“Craig,” Father John invited, “as the provider and protector, please go first.”

Craig’s smile was infinitely loving as he looked at the woman who was his whole world. “Malle,” he began, “I adore you, but it has not always been so. When we first met we thought that we would be enemies, but somehow love crept up on us and brought us together, as we were meant to be. So today I pledge my life and all that I have to you, and I vow to love you and be faithful to you for the rest of my days. Please tell me you will be my wife.”

“I will be your wife, Craig,” she replied, looking into his eyes and smiling. “For you are the only man I have ever loved, and the only one I could ever imagine walking beside on life’s journey. You are the only man whose children I want to bear. There has never been anyone else for me, and there will never be. I swear to be a loving and faithful wife to you, and if we are blessed with children, the best mother I can be. Will you be my husband?”

“I will,” he replied, his voice trembling with emotion. Then he slid the golden ring on her finger and they were married, and despite the solemnity of the ceremony, a great cheer went up from the assembled spectators.

The rest of the Mass could not pass quickly enough for them. Father Baxter, sensing their urgency, performed the rest of the ceremony a little more quickly than usual, and soon it was over. They then shared their first loving kiss as husband and wife.

Craig looked down into her eyes with their long black lashes as he caressed her cheek, and said, “Lady Malle Dunbar, I cannot wait to make you mine.”

“And I cannot wait to be yours, Laird Craig Dunbar,” she smiled lovingly.

“Then let us eat and be courteous to our guests for a while,” he suggested, “then we can slip away. All I want to do is have you in my arms, all to myself in our bed.”

“Then we want the same thing, Laird of mine.” She laughed and kissed him, then they went into the throng of guests to be hugged, kissed, and congratulated by hundreds of eager guests. Everyone had been provided for, even the most humble of the servants, who had never eaten so well.

They had been very abstemious with their drinking, watering down their wine and taking only a little whisky, whereas the rest of the guests were becoming distinctly tipsy. After an hour or so, they saw their chance and slipped away. At the bottom of the staircase Craig swept Malle up in his arms and ran upstairs, carrying her in his arms without apparent effort.

At the top he put her down. “This is your castle,” he observed. “Tell me where to go.”

She pointed in the direction of the bedroom and began to tug on his hand, but he stood still, laughing.

“What?” she asked, baffled.

“Well as long as we are standing here, this is as good a place as any for one of these,” he said, as his mouth swooped down on hers.

Malle clung to him, loving the warm sweet pressure of his lips moving on hers and the gentle invasion of his tongue as it stroked hers. It was heavenly, but all too soon it ended, and she took his hand and began to lead him to the room that had been prepared for their first night together. It was magnificent, and he looked around in awe.