Page 52 of Highlander’s False Identity

Edme looked at him, fascinated.

“An’ what’s that?”

Beathan grinned. “Well, I was wondering if ye might do me the honor of marrying me, an’ becoming the lady of Craig an’ McKinley!” he asked, and then quickly added. “But only if ye want to, an’ not because of anything our fathers’ said!”

* * *

For a moment, she thought he was laughing.

“Marry ye?” Edme almost snorted, as she gazed into Beathan’s fully opened green eyes. He was getting even wetter than she was since he had sacrificed his jacket to her. The rain pelted down, hammering both of them, making it almost impossible for her to open her eyes.

She wondered how Beathan managed to keep both eyes open in the falling rain. But every time she looked around, he was still there, watching her, silently looking for an answer.

“Marry ye?” she said again, as he looked at her. Then, she could see that he looked fearful.

“Well, that’s if ye want to, of course?” he said, unsure. And at that moment, she wanted to put her hands around him and squeeze him.

Pressing her forehead against his, she couldn’t contain herself any longer, and did not care who was looking. In the cold and the rain, she took him by the dint in his chin and said, “Aye, of course, I’ll marry ye, Beathan Craig!”

Tenderly, Beathan pulled her towards him, sealing his lips to hers. Then, for a moment, he hesitated.

“But only if yer sure?” he said to her. “There’s nae pressure!”

“Och, of course, I’m sure!” she laughed, kissing him hard. “Ye just try an’ stop me!”

Then, together, they kissed as the crowd behind them cheered joyfully.

Epilogue

The rain drumming on the brightly painted church windows did not put Beathan at his ease one tiny bit. Right then, everything felt like a bad omen. His stomach was churning wretchedly, and the palms of his hands were clamming up. Turning to his father, he muttered under his breath.

“What if she doesnae show up?” he asked, all the color draining from his lips. Edme not showing up was a recurring nightmare, and now, more than twenty minutes in, he was starting to think it a real possibility.

“Och, Beathan. Do ye nae ken that wee lassie at all? She’ll be here! She’s just making ye sweat! They all do it!” Wallace told him, holding back a chuckle.

“Well, she’s certainly doing that, alright!” said Beathan. Even though the rainy June day was not hot, it was the coolest he could remember – Beathan found he was sweating.

Another few minutes passed, which were undoubtedly the most torture filled of Beathan’s existence, his stomach twisting and turning nauseously. Then, at long last, a lone piper began to play.

Beathan turned his head so quickly that he nearly got whiplash. There, in front of him, walking down the little aisle was Edme.

On seeing her up close, he gasped. She was stunning, her blonde hair curled in a sophisticated tete de mouton - all the rage in France. Beathan, only used to seeing Edme in trews, could barely believe his eyes.

For a moment or so, Beathan watched breathlessly, his heart racing like a crazed horse. Then, remembering himself, he pinned the brooch to Edme’s dress. “For ye,” he said.

Smiling, Edme looked down to see the smoky topaz Cairngorm brooch.

“Now ye dinnae have to rob folks!” he said with a laugh.

“Och Beathan!” cooed Edme, enthralled. “It’s too much! Ye cannae!”

“I can an’ I do!” Beathan said, with a little kiss. Then, he watched as her sweet face turned to amazement, and their guests burst into spontaneous applause behind them. Suddenly, Beathan could not stop grinning.

“An’ now to seal the marriage!” Beathan smiled. He brought out a large silver quaich, specially carved for the occasion, and carefully poured a dram of whiskey in it. “Now then, Edme…”

“Och,” murmured Edme, as Beathan passed her the double-handed quaich. “Isn’t it bonnie?” she said, taking it and looking at the silverwork.

“Got yer name on it an’ mine, an’ the date, just in case ye ever forget today!” Beathan teased her.