Page 76 of Highlander’s Quest of Desire

Reluctantly, Elspeth released Emory’s hand. The kirk was cool and airy. It was also full to the brim of lairds and ladies from all over Scotland. Elspeth recognized faces she had seen on and off since her childhood. Laird Labert stood closer to the front, his kindly face a beacon of hope in the packed space.

Leo stood at the altar in his finest livery. He had combed back his light brown hair and shaved the stubble off his chin. To an unbiased observer he would strike quite the handsome figure, but to Elspeth he was evil incarnate. She would never forgive him, and his name would go down in history as a brother of Judas.

“Looks like Leo got what he wanted,” Elspeth said, as the bagpipes started a song. “All of Scotland is here to witness his union with pure Scottish nobility.”

“As is General Forester,” Domnhall whispered, leading her down the aisle. “There he is, sulking at the front.”

“I thought he’d be happy.”

“Nae. Laird Labert has pulled in favors. And he’s threatened to expose his involvement in ousting Bruce and supporting pawns like Leo to steal the Honors in front of everyone today. The English cannae be seen as conducting dirty tricks. It will unite the clans in an uprising, and the General cannae have that in his last year of office.”

“Laird Labert has always been a clever one,” Elspeth said fondly. She smiled brightly at the old man, and he smiled broadly back.

“He must really love ye,” Domnhall said.

“Laird Labert?”

“Aye. He’s been saving the connection with General Forester for years to use for his own interests. He has been wanting to remove the garrison of soldiers on the border lands south of his estate. But he used them for ye instead.”

A fierce love for Laird Labert burned in her heart, and her eyes filled with tears. She mouthed thank you to him as she passed him and drew ever closer to the altar and Leo Sinclair.

“Ye look lovely, Elspeth,” Leo said, holding out his hand for her. Elspeth didn’t want to take it, but Bruce had asked for her trust that he would make sure this wedding would not take place. So, putting her faith in him, she placed her hand within Leo’s.

She recoiled from his touch, and she was desperate to retrieve her hand from his clammy one but the crowd was watching, benign smiles plastered on their faces. The priest, a man she had never seen in Dunnottar, stood between them and began to preach on the sanctity of marriage.

“God created man in His image,” the priest began, and Elspeth realized why she had never seen him before. He was English. “But unlike God, man is often prey to loneliness. Just how Adam craved companionship, and God created for him Eve, he has made us all in pairs, and sets us out into the world to find each other. Today, Leo and Elspeth have found each other. God created them as companions so they may live together in faith and love.”

Elspeth felt nauseous. The air was suddenly too thin, and the cool of the kirk was gone, replaced by stuffy heat that wouldn’t allow her to breathe. All eyes were on her, and she felt like an object on display. She itched to snatch her hand away. The longer it remained in Leo’s repulsive grip the more she felt like chopping the entire hand off and making a run for it.

She kept glancing toward the door as the priest droned on and on of the duties of husbands and wives. Domnhall, sitting in the first pew, tried to catch her eye, but she was panicking, her anxiety making her squirm.

All of a sudden, she was certain that Bruce was not coming. Something had happened to detain him, and he would be too late to stop the wedding. What would she do if the priest asked her if she was willing to have Leo as her husband for better or for worse?

For it would be the worst. Marriage with Leo would be a life imprisoned and shrouded in misery. She could never love a man who would betray his people for personal gain. Jumping off the cliff and dying on the beach was much more preferable to her.

“Now,” the priest cleared his throat and turned to Elspeth, jarring her out of her thoughts. “Lady Elspeth Buchan, sister of Lord Donald Buchan of Blair Atholl, do you take Lord Leo Sinclair to be your lawfully wedded husband before God?”

Elspeth stared at the priest. She noted the patch of stubble on his hollow cheek where had forgotten to shave. His question was resounding in her head and in the silence in the kirk, but Elspeth could only focus on one thing.

“It’s Domnhall.”

“What?” the priest asked, nonplussed.

“Ye said, Donald. My brother’s name is nae Donald. It’s Domnhall.”

“I… Donald?”

“Nae.”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“Nae, ye said, Donald. It’s Domnhall.”

“Well, I...” The priest pulled a piece of parchment from within his robes and read. “Ah, yes, but I thought it was a mistake and they must have meant Donald. It sounds like Donald-”

“Donald, Domnhall,” Leo laughed. “Does it matter? I’m sure Laird Buchan does nae care.”

“I do, actually.” Domnhall sat with his arms crossed in front of his chest, a displeased air about him. “’Tis my name. Say it proper.”