Page 32 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

From the way the healer colored, Alistair was telling the truth, and the knowledge cheered Niamh a little. “I... I dinnae ken what came over me.”

“’Tis nerves. Every bride has a right tae be uncertain... and every groom too.” Catriona said.

“Aye.” Alistair nodded.

“Ye’re... nervous?”

“Aye. Near swallowed me tongue tryin’ tae breathe when I first saw ye. Couldnae believe someone like ye would be marryin’ me.”

Alistair’s frank admission restored her a little more. She managed a few deep breaths, then slowly stepped free of Alistair’s arms. He moved to take her hand again as Catriona retreated to her place opposite Ewan. “What now?”

“Ye’ve still tae speak yer vows.”

Niamh nodded, then faced the priest. “Yer pardon, Faither. I tak’ this man tae be me husband – I do.”

“Then by the powers vested in me by the holy powers above, I pronounce ye wed within the eyes o’ the heavens and all those gathered here taeday. Laird MacDuff, ye may now kiss yer bride.”

Alistair’s hand cupped her chin, and his mouth fastened over hers, firm but gentle. His lips were dry and slightly rough, and he tasted faintly of salt and spirits, mingled with the scent of some sort of herbal soap.

She’d barely any time to appreciate the kiss, or respond, before he released her and stepped back to offer her his arm. She took it, still feeling slightly dazed by the kiss and the warmth of him beside her. She flinched as the room erupted into cheering, and the bagpipes began to play, sealing her fate once and for all. Niamh was in so much turmoil, she barely felt Alistair’s hand start to lead her from the altar as the priest intoned the final words of the ceremony.

“Assembled clansmen and women, I give ye – the Laird and Lady MacDuff!”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Alistair winced as he led Niamh into the Great Hall for the wedding feast. His bride still looked far too pale and overwhelmed, for all she’d put on a brave face earlier. If he was honest with himself, she wasn’t the only one. He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on and would have dearly loved to have half a candle-mark of peace and quiet to gather his thoughts and his composure.

Seeing Niamh so terrified had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. For the first time, he had truly questioned whether he could do what was necessary for the good of the clan. He could guess what had frightened her and was glad he hadn’t seen her to tell her about the council’s demand. She probably would have fled then and there.

Unfortunately, there was no chance to discuss the matter, or soothe her fears any further. They were expected in the hall for the feast, and appearances had to be maintained. Even so, he took a moment to face Niamh and tip her face to meet his. “Are ye all right? I’ll make yer excuses if ye wish.”

He’d face criticism for it, but he owed her at least that much courtesy. Besides, as she was now his wife, it fell to him to ensure her comfort and happiness. If that meant attending the wedding feast alone, then so be it.

Fortunately for his reputation, she shook her head. “Nay. I’m feeling better now, and I ken they expect us both tae be present.” She offered him a wan smile. “Appearances must be maintained.”

“Aye. That they must.” He answered her smile with a faint smile of his own. “However, ye should ken that I’m nae in the best mood fer feastin’ either, so if ye want tae flee, just say the word. I’ll be more than happy tae find a way tae excuse us both.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The gleam that entered her eyes made him wonder if she might decide to stay just to be contrary. Oddly enough, the thought made him feel more cheerful. If she was feeling well enough to try and frustrate him, it meant she’d recovered some of her spirits. He might spend his night sighing in irritation, but at least one of them could find some enjoyment in the whole arrangement.

Together, they entered the hall and made their way to the head table. Alistair drew out Niamh’s chair for her, then took his own. As tradition dictated, Ewan and Catriona took seats on either side of them, as the witnesses. The rest of the table was filled by the Council members, and the heads of the cadet branches and subordinate clans that lived under the MacDuff banner.

The lower tables on either side were filled with the clan-folk from the nearby village, and the warriors who weren’t on watch, as well as their families. The center of the floor was clear for dancing, and the musicians were already warming up as they sat down to the meal.

Given the duration of the feast, the first few courses would be light, spaced out to whet the appetite, rather than truly sating it. Then there would be dancing, followed by the main feast, then more dancing until late in the night.

Alistair forced himself to eat. He wasn’t truly hungry, but he hadn’t eaten, and he knew he had to have something. From the way she nibbled at the items on her plate, it seemed as though Niamh felt much the same.

The first dancers were beginning to make their way out onto the floor, and the sight of them sparked an idea in Alistair’s mind. He leaned over. “Dae ye like tae dance?”

“I dae. I’ve always enjoyed dancing during the festivals. ‘Twas something I did with Grace.”

Alistair ignored the reference to the Englishwoman as he stood and offered her his hand. “’Tis expected o’ the newly wedded couple tae dance the first dance.”

Niamh looked up at him with widened eyes. “I dinnae ken the steps fer Highland dances.”

Alistair offered her a confident smile. “I ken them well enough, and I’ll guide ye. ‘Twill be fine.”

For a moment, he thought she might refuse, unwilling to brave the potential judgment of the clan-folk around her. But Niamh was braver than that. After the slightest hesitation, she placed her hand in his and stood. “Dinnae blame me if I step on yer feet. I’m fond o’ dancing, but I willnae swear I’m skilled at it.”