Elusive (26 page)

Once Esmée was in position at the altar, Bill
took his place beside Alex. The pipes began humming as Blair
started her walk toward Alex on Angus’s arm. She saw nothing but
Alex. Alex saw nothing but Blair.

***

The reception was wonderful. The whole
village was there including the little bookseller who had latched
onto one of the pipers.

Esmée danced with a fine, young lad she had
met in Edinburgh when she and Blair had been shopping there the
previous summer. They had been seeing quite a bit of each other
whenever Esmée came over to visit Blair, which over the year of
wedding planning had been more and more often.

Madame spent most of the evening with dear
Angus. He blushed like a school boy when he was near her. They were
very taken with each other, and Alex and Blair both hoped to be
attending another wedding sometime very soon.

Finally, it was time to toast, and the first
was to be from Angus. Angus stood before the room, signaling for
quiet by lifting a flute of champagne. “Tis my pleasure to toast
this lovely couple. However, I find that I hae a
graaaaaave
responsibility afore me,” he slipped into the brogue with jowls
shaking as he stressed the gravity of his position. He set down his
glass as did the rest of the room. Blair and Alex looked at each
other questioningly.

“As the stand-in for my dear friends—the
bride’s father, Fheargus, and uncle, Rodaidh—I must first assure
that the groom is worthy of her.”

The room burst into “ahhhhs” of sudden
understanding.

Blair looked up questioningly into her
husband’s face and saw that it was reddening. This was a tradition
that had not been shared with her. She couldn’t imagine what kind
of proof he would be asked to provide. She felt his hand tighten
around hers. “Alex?”

Alex didn’t answer her. He just shook his
head, and despite his blush, his smile brought forth the dimple in
his cheek that sent her system churning. She stood still and waited
with the rest of the room.

“In our time-honored tradition, and as
decreed by old King George IV, I demand that the groom prove
himself to be dressed as the
True Scotsman
he
claims
to be!

“Angus…” Alex started to argue but was cut
off by the cat calls of all the men in the room. Recognizing that
he was not going to win in the matter, he just closed his eyes and
shook his head, then raised his hand to quiet the room.

“Aye, then ‘tis proof ye shall have,” he
responded playing along but now earnestly in full blush. The women
all backed away pulling Blair along with them. All the men tightly
circled around Alex. With wild hoots of manly camaraderie, they
watched as Alexandre Eduard Maigny McDonnough, Laird and Earl of
Donnach, raised his kilt to all those who could see in proof that
there was
nothing
on under it.

Once again, Angus raised his wine flute and
shouted, “Slainte!” (SLAW tcheh).

“Slainte!” repeated the whole wedding
party.

**************************

Epilogue

Donnach Castle – Christmas Eve 1965

“And they all lived happily…” she stopped as
she saw him come into the room. After all these years, he was still
an impressive sight in that tartan kilt he wore each Christmas.

“Well, lassie, are you finished with your
story?”

She looked into the eyes of her love, now the
hair turned to a beautiful, shining silver, the eyes perhaps a
lighter shade of blue, but still the handsomest man she had ever
known. The melodic French accent still influenced his speech after
all these years; hers as well, or so she was told.

“Aye, I am, my love,” she smiled, as he
lifted her hand from her lap where it lay upon the enameled box
with its purple heather spread daintily across the lid. He took the
now-frail, little hand gently to his mouth for a sweet, soft kiss
on her knuckles.

“I just came from our rooms,” he said,
grinning from ear-to-ear. “Some imp has draped tinsel over your
gargoyle collection.”

“Well, if you have any nightmares, my love,
just snuggle closer. I promise to keep you safe,” she whispered in
his ear.

***

Just outside the huge arch leading to a foyer
as large as most of the houses in the village, stood the children’s
parents. Many had tears in their eyes. They had stood silently,
listening to the tale she wove in the tradition of the Scottish
women before her.

While the McDonnoughs amongst them had all
heard the story at about this same age, it still held their
attention and touched their hearts. The spouses had all heard it as
their children were raised. Each was aware of the additional
information she had given in this latest telling. They had not
known of the attempts to kill her, nor had they known of some of
her personal hardships along the way. The greedy cousins were long
since dead—Dizzy Izzy shortly after Blair and Alexandre’s wedding,
Hugh as an old man in a French prison during the bombings of World
War II.

Now they knew it all. As was their duty, they
would all keep the story alive long after Blair and Alexandre were
gone and, as the family had agreed, little Fee inherited the
castle. It was their responsibility to do so and their pleasure to
honor their family’s traditions.

There was no greed among them. Each had a
life filled with love and caring for one another. Blair and
Alexandre had raised their family with love, duty, honor, and
family as its core. Each subsequent generation had done the same.
Despite any distance of geography, they had always shared and
shared alike. Each took part in the running of the now enormous
shipping company and its offices around the world.

The doctors among them set up practices where
their spouses worked for the family; or worked as shipboard
physicians when needed. The lawyers took care of the company’s
legal affairs. One grandson was a pastry chef who saw to it that
the cruise ships had the best pastries in the world. Each played
his or her part in keeping the family tight. They would continue to
do so as they had been taught by their parents and
grandparents.

During World Wars I and II, Alexandre had
moved the shipping base from Brest in France to Scotland. Black
Swan’s ships were used the business to smuggle weapons, food, and
other supplies to the Allies. His beloved Le Avignon had served as
a hospital ship during World War I. She was sunk off the coast of
France, still the queen in his heart.

The village had continued to prosper. Blair
had expanded the library that Mairi had started all those years
ago. Her own love of books had her actively helping out there until
she was well into her seventies. Her love of flowers had been
shared with the village by creating the Donnach Gardens. They were
a steady source of delight to tourists and income to villagers over
the years. They were famous all over Europe and her pride and joy.
Alexandre had assured the quality of the herds of cattle and sheep
which were prized around the world. Their latest champion bull was
getting the highest stud fees in Scottish history. They didn’t do
any of these things for their own profit or aggrandizement. It was
for their people—only for their people.

Here was the source of that love and
caring—in the home of Blair and Alex—the home of Caena and
Sòlas.

***

“Great-granddad,” said Fiona, who at fifteen
was the youngest in the group, “you should have heard the beautiful
story great-grandmother told us. It was as if we were really there,
all those years ago.”

“Yes, my dears,” he smiled down at the group,
“I’m sure it was. After all, it is our story.”