Page 150 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

"Fionnula?" Fiona snapped, pushing her daughter, a young girl with light-brown hair, and an earnest gaze, forward. Fionnula stepped gingerly into the chamber, standing beside Nora, who smiled. Clutching her posy, she took her place behind Nora, signaling their departure.

Nerves rose in Nora's stomach. "I will nae be ready," she said, but Grace took her hand.

"Second time lucky!" She winked, leaving Nora with a big dent in her heart. Even the mention of their previous "wedding" was enough to bring her out in a flush.

Nora's cheeks reddened as Fiona glared at Grace.

"Dinnae fash aboot that," said Fiona practically. The three of them had joined hands and, together, walked out of the chamber.

It was early June. The sun flew high in the sky, overseeing the green of the valley and flowing glen side. Everything felt easy, with a scent in the air of honeysuckle and roses growing outside the castle window.

Squeezing Grace's hand, Nora allowed herself to feel that everything would be alright as they proceeded out of the castle and down to the town. It was packed. Nora could barely move as they shuffled three abreast toward the kirk. But the noise was more than she was reckoning as they pushed through the crowd.

"Och, 'tis heaving!" murmured Nora, as she struggled to hold on to her shawl. The jostling was getting quite out of hand, with curious faces all wanting their glimpse of the bride on her big day.

Red-cheeked, Nora continued, but by then had given up on speech. No one could hear her. Cheering drowned them all out as, clinging to her new sisters, she made her way toward the town. Peasants, farmers, toothless old women, all of them turned out to greet them, and Nora was overwhelmed.

"Every soul in the clan is here," she gasped, and it was probably true. But there was one thing. Suspiciously, Nora looked about.

"Where's William?" she asked.

The sisters shared a smile. Then, Fiona answered. "Dinnae fash, he'll be here," she said, with a grin.

Nora had an instant stab of fear. What if he did not turn up? Her thoughts turned to their previous "wedding," the one she had backed out of. Had William been shown up in front of everyone? The thought was too much for her to bear.

Grace squeezed her hand, but at that moment, it only made her worse. Everyone was being so nice. All around her, folk greeted her, some pressing flowers into her hands as she passed. And behind, the fiddlers accompanied her, playing so loud she could barely hear them.

Nearing the kirk, the streets were even more packed. Nora wiped her brow.

"Och," she said hopelessly, wiping the sweat with her hand. "Where is my handkerchief? I look a sight!"

A hand passed her a cotton square. "Ye're as fair as any flower," said the voice warmly.

Without looking, Nora knew straight away. His hand squeezed her arm softly.

"William!"

Nora leaped right into the air, much to the amusement of all around them. Instant applause rang out, rippling through the crowd. Behind them, the pipers started playing, although the noise drowned out their song.

William was there. Nora could not stop grinning from ear to ear. Sweet relief filled her. By now, they had reached the kirk steps. Kissing her gently, William teased her senses. Everything felt weak. Taking his hand, she realized he was the same. His eyes betrayed a rare moment, a slight flash of nerves. But then it was hidden.

No one else would have seen his vulnerability. To everyone else, he was strong. William, the defender of the clan, tall and strong. In his clan plaid, he looked especially handsome, and even his wild curls had been teased into some sort of order for the occasion, although Nora was pleased to see not too much.

Embracing an overwhelming urge to ruffle them, Nora grinned. Running her fingers through his rusty mop, intense sensations ignited. She wanted to touch him, and now. But right then, that was not possible. Several hundred people had come to make sure they got married, and the moment was very near.

From the wooden kirk doors, the priest emerged, clutching his sacraments and beaming.

Bidding the crowd to quieten, he began the vows. Maybe Nora was not listening; perhaps she was too busy dreaming about William in a quiet lake, washing and kissing, both of them naked to the ground.

A jolt of desire awakened her. She was surrounded by eyes watching her every move. William was talking, making his vows, sending his eyes over to hers shyly.

"I, William, take thee, Nora..."

His eyes drifted off, and Nora was transfixed by his gaze. She was so drawn in that she forgot what she was saying. In fact, she forgot everything. It felt like it was happening to someone else. More than once, she had to check herself to be sure it was real. But it was.

The priest watched avidly as they made their vows on the steps, and William smirked wickedly as he did so. His eyes signaled something outlandish and more. Nora burned. She could barely wait.

A combination of nerves and heat won out, and everything inside her became intense. So intense, it seemed strange to hear her voice saying, "And I, Nora, take thee, William, to be my husband..."