Page 149 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

William felt his own pain.

Stroking her hair, he luxuriated in the feeling of her locks between his fingers. She was soft, pliant, and full of remorse. Now he was angry that she had been through so much. But more than that, he had to kiss her. Right now.

Gently, he embraced her, brushing her honeyed lips and smiling. She smelled divine, and he could not stop feeling her hair. Sighing, he leaned in tight. It was like the smell of a thousand summers. Kissing her lightly, he felt the burn. It ricocheted up and down inside him, kissing him deeply. Tearfully, Nora turned to him.

"William, I love ye. I always did, right from the start. Can we make this right now?"

Taking her face in his hands, William leaned in. Kissing her, he lost himself deep in the satisfaction of her skin.

This was too much. He would overheat.

"I love ye too, Nora, an' I think I always did!"

EPILOGUE

"They're waiting!"

Sorcha knocked excitedly on the door as, in the chamber, Nora straightened down her purple dress. Eyeing herself in the glass, she smiled expectantly.

"Yer mother would be proud," said Sorcha quietly, as a strange knot twisted in Nora's throat. Just the thought of the past was unsettling, but Sorcha meant well.

Shyly, she pinned a clan brooch to Nora's plaid. Nora inspected it with interest.

"'Tis only wee," said Sorcha, almost apologetic. "But it was yer mother's, an' noo it belongs to ye."

Nora's eyes moistened. She traced its edges softly, feeling the smooth silver with her fingers.

"Thank ye," she stuttered, overcome.

The last few weeks had been hard but also bittersweet. With her father exiled, Sorcha was all she had, and she was humbled.

"Just a few minutes more," said Nora, as the doors to the bedchamber were flung open. Behind them were Grace and Fiona, as well as more. All the women of the Duncan clan had turned out to accompany Nora, and, it seemed, they would not wait any longer.

"We're ready noo. Nora, yer husband is waiting."

With Sorcha smiling behind the door, Grace and Fiona lifted Nora from her feet, twirling her in the air. Laughing, the pair of them tugged her to the door. But Nora was still not ready. With trepidation, she smoothed herself down, unfurling the long houppelande and rearranging the Douglas plaid on her shoulder.

Quizzically, she smiled.

"Braw," agreed Grace, herself decked in the Duncan clan plaid of blue and brown.

Nora looked at her in nervous awe. Grace was effortlessly beautiful, even after bairns and many years of marriage. Would she ever be able to measure up? Sensing her doubts, Grace lifted her hand.

"Ye're the only belle in the toon," she said, admiring her robe. "He wilnae even see anyone else."

"Oor brother is very lucky," added Fiona

She was shining in the clan plaid. Her long hair was arranged in a delicate coif rather than flowing loose, but for the rest of it, she was traditional; her white arisaid was in full flow, with a trim of the brown and blue.

Watching nervously, Nora was not too sure. The robe was Fiona and William's mother's—in full purple, it made a splash—and was entirely at odds with the more old-fashioned clan plaid around her shoulders. Eyeing the two parts uncertainly, Nora wondered if they clashed.

Reading her mind, Fiona assured her, "Ye wear it well. He will like it!"

Nora grinned. In fact, she had already worn the houppelande before, but not like this, with her long hair falling to her waist and the clan plaid on. Grace came forward and brushed back her hair.

"Ye ready?" she asked, although, by the look on her face, it was more of a command.

In the hallway, Nora heard the others; Lissie, Aileen, half a dozen of their bairns, all waiting and watching to bring her to the church.