Page 47 of Highland Spirit

“Ye did?” Alana was ready to faint. Ethan had made sure there was no turning back this time. He’d gone to extremes and there was nothing she could do but go through with the marriage as planned. It was what she really wanted in her heart, but now it was going to be even harder to figure out what to do once she got back and had to face Diarmad.

“Isobel,” called out little Sophie, running down the hill to the lake, holding on to the hand of her brother, Oliver.

“Sophie! Look at my new doll.” Isobel jumped up in the boat, rocking it and leaning over the side, almost falling into the water. Trapper gripped the back of her dress in his teeth and pulled her back into the boat.

“Guid job, boy,” said Ethan, running over to the boat. “But I think I’ll hold on to Isobel for now.” He scooped her up in his arms and she clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. It was such a sweet sight that it about melted Alana’s heart.

“Ethan, if we’re goin’ to do this, let’s get started,” said Storm. “I havena even had my mornin’ ale yet.”

“Storm was never a morning person,” Wren said in apology. She grabbed her husband’s arm and smiled at him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I got up early and made haggis to give to Ethan to take back to the castle. I saved a little for you, too.”

“Haggis?” Storm suddenly perked up. Haggis was one of his favorite foods.

“Are we finally ready now?” asked the priest impatiently. “I have another weddin’ to perform this mornin’ and I canna stay long.”

“We’re ready,” said Ethan, holding Isobel in one arm and wrapping his other arm around Alana.

“Wait! Here is yer weddin’ bouquet,” said Phoebe, handing her a bouquet that Alana realized wasn’t flowers at all. Since it was winter, Phoebe had used some hearty herbs of thyme, mint and sage.

“Thank ye,” said Alana with a smile, taking the herbal bouquet from her, inhaling a big sniff of its powerful aroma. “If we get hungry later, we can eat it.”

“Enough clishmaclaver,” said the priest. “If we dinna hurry I’m goin’ to miss the next weddin’, so I’m goin’ to make this fast. Ethan MacKeefe, do ye take . . . what’s yer name, lass?”

“Alana. Alana Chisholm,” she told him.

“Do ye take Alana Chisholm for yer wife?”

“I do,” said Ethan, looking over at Alana and winking. He looked so sexy standing there. And with little Isobel balanced on one hip, she could see he would make a great father.

“And ye, Alana Chisholm,” continued the priest. “Do ye take Ethan MacKeefe for yer husband?”

Alana suddenly felt as though she couldn’t speak. Looking out at the crowd, every single person was staring at her. Of course she wanted to be married to Ethan, but part of her felt it wasn’t right to do so before she told him why she left him on their wedding day the first time. She really didn’t know how to tell him she was being held captive along with her family and forced to help run a smuggling ring. Nay, it wouldn’t be a good time to mention it. Perhaps she should have said something about it last night instead. But now it was too late. Part of her was also frightened to be married, because she didn’t feel she deserved someone as good as Ethan MacKeefe.

“This is the part where ye say I do,” said Ethan in a low voice. Still, Alana couldn’t seem to say a word. Ethan leaned over and whispered into her ear. “If ye dinna say it, we’ll stand here all day until ye do and ye’ll never get back to yer castle.”

“Nay!” she spat, glaring into his eyes.

“Nay?” asked the priest. “Ye willna marry him?” He slapped his book shut and let out a breath. “Why was I woken from a sound sleep and dragged here in the cold if this weddin’ is no’ goin’ to take place?”

“It will take place, Faither,” Ethan told him. “I’m sure Alana didna mean that in the way ye thought. Did ye, sweetheart?” he asked, making a big show of reaching up and kissing Isobel on the cheek while looking at Alana all the time, subtly reminding her he was the father of her child. He played a dirty game and Alana didn’t like it. Then again, she supposed she couldn’t blame him.

“All right,” she whispered and looked back at the priest. “I do,” she answered. “I will marry Ethan MacKeefe and be his wife.”

“Yay!” shouted little Sophie, throwing her doll up in the air.

“Now the ring, please,” said the priest.

“Give me the ring, Alana. I want to put it on yer finger,” said Ethan. His palm shot out as he waited for it. Then he put Isobel down and untied Alana’s necklace himself, slipping the ring and the key off the string. Alana reached out and took the key and string back, sticking them into her pocket. “Hold out yer hand,” he told her.

Nervously, she held out one shaking hand and Ethan slid the ring onto her finger. She stood staring at it, not able to believe she was now his wife. She’d thought he was dead all these years, and now – now they’d finally said their vows and became man and wife. She was so overwhelmed she couldn’t speak and once again felt like crying since this is what she wanted for as long as she could remember. To be married to Ethan MacKeefe. All thoughts of Diarmad, her father, and her horrible life were brushed away as she reveled in the good feeling. It was a dream come true. She smiled.

“Congratulations,” said Hawke, coming to shake Ethan’s hand. “None of us thought this day would ever happen.”

“How do ye spell Chisholm?” asked Bridget, walking up with her father holding the Highland Chronicles in his hands. “I want – I mean, we want to make sure to spell yer name right for the king. Even though we dinna ken ye, I’m sure King Robert kens the Chisholms well.”

“Aye,” answered Alana, thinking how well they’d be known once her father was exposed for running a smuggling ring. She was sure his execution would be mentioned in that book as well.

“I’ll spell it for them,” Lady Wren told them. “Here, take this basket of haggis and bannock bread. I also put in some apple tarts and a few sweetmeats since Isobel seems to like them. There is enough there for your sister and brother as well, and even your father, too.”