Page 102 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

“Deva, I dinnae ken what to say,” said Niven, but this time in a low voice that only she could hear.

She looked at him tenderly. But the crowd was raucous. In vain, she tried to address them but was drowned out by noise. Beside her, Niven touched her lightly.

“Deva, I am sorry about yer father, but it was him or me…”

His voice trailed off, and without needing to say any more, Deva knew he was sincere. Coming to Niven, she took his hands.

“I ken… It was him, or all of us,” she said, sadly, indicating them all, but then also nodding to the crowds around them.

Slowly, the crowds hushed, and now the leaders stood, looking at them. Taking the initiative, Niven came to the fore.

“An’ like the sole MacLean heir,” said Niven, indicating Deva. As he did so, Deva felt herself heat up all over. It had never occurred to her until that minute that she was now the Lairdess of MacLean.

Something like panic erupted inside of her, but then, as Niven stroked her hair, it gently subsided.

“Like the lady said,” smiled Niven, taking her hand, “I also stand in honor to my uncle, the laird of Macaulay…”

With a dramatic flourish, Niven indicated his uncle, now beaming in front of the gate of lairds.

Then Deva turned to the clansmen. “An'’ sirs, I would like to honor the allegiance, made between ourselves, the MacLeans, an’, of course, all of ye…!”

She looked desperately for a response. For a moment, there was a pause, but then, a warm cheering began.

“Aye, Lady MacLean,” said one of the lairds from the gate, “Aye, we also swear too…”

Deva grasped Niven’s hand excitedly, an electric thrill racing through her. Behind them, somewhere in the crowd, there may have been applause.

If she’d noticed it… because right then, her attentions were all focused on one thing. Just one pair of eyes in front of her, which stood out from the gray crowds that early morning.

In front of her, Niven’s eyes twinkled warmly. Then, kissing her lightly on the cheek, he leaned in to say.

“Aye, lass, here’s to us… an’ the Highlands…”

Epilogue

“What do ye mean, wedding day?”

Niven eyed Rory unsurely. The look in his uncle’s eyes was tricky, and suddenly, he didn’t know what was going on.

It was early summer, and the scent of the first bluebells streamed in from the opened shutters. And the table was bedecked with them too, with Scottish thistles inserted in the centerpiece.

It all looked mighty grand, and now Niven paused to think about it, a wee bit grander than the boring meeting of nobles he had been told it was.

Beaming, Rory laughed at him. “I mean, it’s yer wedding day, today, son, so ye’d better look sharp!”

“What?” Niven shifted around to see the great hall of the castle filling up with people.

“But this is just the spring meeting of the clans… it’s been planned for ages?”

Niven said, glancing around, watching as dignitaries from the local clans arrived, taking their places in the hall.

The room was set for a banquet, and as far as Niven could tell, that was all that it was. But now he came to think of it, the extravagant table dressings – decorated with the first sprigs of spring, twinkled out at him.

All the while, his uncle’s blue eyes beamed upon him. Feeling his irritation grow, Niven downed a dram and tried to focus.

“Well, aye, that’s what it was,” conceded his uncle, with a dancing spark in his blue eye, “But we soon decided to make it, a wee bit more…”

Here, Rory cast his arm around his nephew and embraced him warmly. As he grew closer, he muttered into Niven’s ear, “An’ it’s about time ye made an honest woman o’ that lass of yers!”