Her Highness and the Highlander: A Princess Brides Romance (27 page)

His heart gave a strong, sure beat and he couldn’t help smiling, anticipation warming
him from within.

Soon Mercedes would be his. Soon nothing would part them again.

Then she was walking toward him down the aisle, a smile on her lips, her chocolate
eyes shining with nerves and excitement and something more, something that looked
a great deal like love.

He frowned slightly at the thought, realizing as he did how strongly he wanted it
to be true. He was a selfish creature,
he supposed, wanting her to love him when he still wasn’t sure how he felt in return.

All he knew was that he had to have her, had to claim her for his own before anyone
could prevent him. And he would be true to their vows, he swore. He would cleave only
to her, protect and care for her all the days of their lives.

But worrying about someone wishing to prevent their union was absurd. It wasn’t as
if she really were a royal princess and that he would have her disapproving family
heaping scorn and accusation upon him for being a fortune hunter once they learned
of the marriage. He smiled at the idea, shaking off the odd whisper of disquiet that
slid through him.

Then, he could think of nothing but Mercedes as she reached his side and tilted her
head back to peer up into his eyes.

Taking her hand, he turned them to face the vicar, who beamed up from under his fringe
of snow-white hair.

And the ceremony began.

Mercedes trembled, barely able to focus on the words that would join her life to Daniel’s.
He looked so proud, so Scottish in his kilt, but it was not the one he usually wore.

This morning he was wearing what appeared to be his old dress regimentals, the tartan
bearing a weave of darkest blue and deep green with stripes of black running through.
If she wasn’t mistaken, it was the Black Watch plaid.

She’d read about the Highland Regiment, who had fought at the battles of Quatre Bras
and Waterloo. They were known for their savage fighting and bravery in the face of
impossible odds, so fearsome, it was said, that their battle cry alone could make
the enemy break ranks and run.

Knowing what she did of him, she wasn’t surprised to discover he had been part of
that regiment. Somehow it seemed fitting that a member of the Black Watch had sworn
to watch over her. And now he was to be her husband—there to watch over her always.

As for the rest of his wedding regalia, he wore stockings
in the same plaid as his uniform and a bonnet to which he’d attached a small sprig
of Scots pine. The plant was pinned in place by what looked to be a heraldic badge
of some sort. She studied it briefly, noticing the plain silver circlet that held
the likeness of a boar with a deer caught between its teeth. Behind it were three
feathers that seemed to imply authority of some kind. The badge was inscribed with
a motto that read
Adentes Fortuna Juvat
. She translated the Latin—“fortune assists the daring.”

How appropriate for Daniel and how fitting for the occasion. Daniel had dared to ask
her to marry him despite everything he did not know about her—or refused to admit.
And she had dared to accept despite her awareness of all the potential obstacles that
lay in their path.

But they would overcome them, she promised silently as she concentrated on the words
of the ceremony. With love, nothing could stand between them.

“Wilt thou have this woman…?”

“I will,” Daniel pledged, his deep voice ringing resolutely inside the small church,
his gaze only for her.

“Wilt thou have this man…?”

“I will,” she vowed softly, everything but Daniel and the quiet intonations of the
parish priest fading from her mind.

When the time came for the rings, she cast Daniel a worried look. In their rush to
the altar, she’d forgotten all about rings, despite Sara’s earlier remark about her
lack thereof.

But to her surprise, Daniel produced one and slid it onto her finger as he recited
the appropriate vows. She stared down at the gold band engraved with an intricate
knot design. It seemed to have no beginning and no end. She wondered where he had
come by it.

“’Twas my mother’s,” he whispered for her ears alone. “It was sent to me after she
died and I’ve been carrying it around in my luggage ever since. Somehow she must have
known I’d be needin’ it and made sure it came my way.”

She gazed at it again, even more astonished to find that the band fit, almost as if
it had been fashioned just for her.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

And then Daniel was pulling her to him, a hard arm curved possessively around her
waist. “’Tis not the English custom, but in the Scottish a man kisses his bride to
seal the vows.”

“Then it’s all right,” she whispered, “since I’m not English. Remember?”

His mouth pressed to hers, strong and warm, in a joining that was both an intimate
claiming and a sweet exaltation. An ocean’s worth of happiness poured through her,
the waves roaring in her ears, pounding inside her mind.

And all she knew was Daniel and the joy of being his wife.

“H
ere, now, lad, have another,” a wiry, gray-haired man declared later that evening
where they were all gathered in the Camerons’ front yard. Daniel thought the man’s
name was Sooty, but then he’d been introduced to so many wedding “guests” that he
wasn’t entirely sure.

Without waiting for Daniel’s agreement, the man plunked a fresh ale down on the table
in front of him, hard enough for a good fourth of the brew to slosh out onto the wooden
table and drip onto the grass below.

Flying high on too much revelry and spirits, Sooty continued in a carrying voice.
“After all, ’tis no’ every day that a man loses his freedom—I mean gets married.”
A few of the men and women gathered hooted with laughter. “Then again, yer new wife
is one of the bonniest lasses I ever did clap eyes upon, so I can see why ye volunteered
tae be fit for a set o’ shackles. Either way, I’d say that’s deservin’ of a drink.”

He roared out a salute and slapped Daniel hard across the shoulder. Several others
called out cheering cries and a few ribald remarks while the old man’s face split
wide with a grin that displayed a set of pink gums and his few remaining teeth.

Daniel smiled good-naturedly and raised his glass, but when the rest of them drank,
he simply pretended to do so. He’d imbibed more than enough spirits over the course
of the day and knew when it was time to stop. This was his wedding night, after all,
and he had no intention of staggering to his marriage bed too inebriated to exercise
his husbandly rights. He’d curbed the strongest of his desire for Mercedes—at least
enough to leave her a virgin—but now that his ring was on her finger he could indulge
his hunger at will.

Nevertheless, he’d found himself required to be patient as the day wore on, sharing
his new wife with others come to make merry. If given his preference, he would have
swept Mercedes off her feet and locked the two of them inside their temporary accommodations.
But the Camerons and their neighbors had had other ideas in mind.

The wedding revel had begun the moment he and Mercedes returned from the church. When
they’d arrived back at the Camerons’, they’d found a small group of neighbors gathered
bearing good tidings and the makings of a wedding feast. How they had heard about
the nuptials, he didn’t know, but word of the event had spread through the local community
as if borne on the wind itself.

A quartet of ladies had soon taken over the Camerons’ kitchen and busily cooked the
wedding breakfast to which the vicar and his family had apparently been invited, along
with a few more close friends of the Camerons. Tables had been set up outside, one
spread with a fine white cloth where he and Mercedes were seated. Ale and wine began
to flow shortly thereafter, along with tea, ginger beer, and milk as the ladies’ best
cooking emerged from the kitchen. There were boiled eggs and fried potatoes with fresh
summer onions, ham and bacon and golden fish patties that were every bit as delicious
as they looked. Bowls of oat porridge came next, accompanied by thick sweet cream
and butter, rye bread, fruit tarts, jellies, and savory cheeses made from goat and
sheep’s milk.

While the feast progressed, more and more people began to arrive, including Tommy,
the farmer who was repairing their curricle.

“’Tis comin’ along fine,” he told Daniel as he helped himself to a generous helping
of nearly everything on hand. “Another day or two should hae it done, but I canna
see that ye’ll mind, ye being on yer honeymoon and all.”

Daniel considered the remark and decided Tommy was right.

As the sun rose to its zenith, the festivities continued apace. By eventide, Daniel
wondered if every person in the shire had come to partake of the festivities. He and
Mercedes might be visitors, but they seemed to have been adopted into the community.
A few revelers brought out fiddles and flutes and began to play and the dancing commenced.

One of his favorite moments was sharing his first dance with Mercedes, who laughed
and smiled, her gaze only for him as she whirled in his arms. Giving in to impulse,
he’d kissed her before one and all, unashamed of displaying his pleasure in his new
bride.

This prompted a round of teasing remarks, some of them lewd enough to bring a blush
to Mercedes’s cheeks. She’d looked so adorable that he’d had to kiss her again.

Clean plates were laid on the tables and dinner was served. Platters arrived bearing
beautifully poached salmon and trout, freshly caught from the river, stewed hare,
and roast ptarmigan. There was a delicious cock-a-leekie soup, sea kale and new peas,
potato and dried beef hash, and fine mince patties. Warm baked bread and oatcakes
with sweet butter and honey were plentiful, as were the liberal drafts of ale and
good Scots whiskey that went with every course.

Mercedes, he noticed, drank sparingly, taking no more than a small glass of wine with
dinner and a cup of tea with milk for dessert.

As for dessert, he and Mercedes were astonished and deeply touched when they were
presented with a small but delightful iced butter cake that they shared by eating
from the same
fork. For everyone else there were pies and puddings—truly a feast that the locals
would not soon forget.

As the night wore on, there was more dancing and a great deal more drinking until
everyone was afloat on a surfeit of good cheer and spirituous liquor.

Daniel had been whispering to Mercedes that they should find a way to sneak off by
themselves when the opportunity had been lost. Several women, including Sara Cameron,
had suddenly encircled them, having arrived to “collect” Mercedes as they called it.

“She’ll be ready and waitin’ for ye, Major—or should I say m’ laird?” She nodded toward
the badge on his bonnet with a wink. “Ye’re not tae come around until ye’re given
the word.”

Realizing he had little choice in the matter, he gave in with a resigned shrug. Mercedes
seemed both surprised and perplexed at the sudden turn of events. Her dark eyes were
wide when they’d pulled her from him, giggling like a flock of schoolgirls as they
hurried through the night.

That had been nearly an hour past.

Setting down his mug, he stood, lifting a hand to call for everyone’s attention. “Thank
you all for blessing my bride and me with your gracious company and generous hospitality
on this most special of days. Ye’ve made Mercedes and me feel like one of you, and
for that we’ll always be grateful.”

A rousing cheer went up at his words.

“But now I must bid all of you good night. I’m off tae find my bride.”

“Nae, there, laddie,” called Sooty. “Ye’ve the creelin’ yet tae do.”

Creeling?
Daniel grimaced, aware of the ancient Highland custom that required the bridegroom
to carry a basket full of stones on his back around the village. But he wasn’t in
a village and he had no intention of participating in the miserable ritual.

But the wedding guests, especially full of drink as
they were, had other notions. Arms grabbed him and held him in place while a large
basket filled to the top with stones was brought forward and strapped to his back,
much to everyone’s amusement.

He was given a shove forward.

“There ye go, lad,” Sooty shouted. “Carry it up to the hut and around, then back down
here to the house. Once ye’ve done a full circuit, ye can go back tae the hut an’
beg yer pretty lass tae let ye in. Otherwise, it’s another time around for ye.”

The crowd cheered and roared with merriment, encouraging him to be on his way.

Daniel knew he could simply have refused, set down his burden, and told them he’d
had enough of their foolery. But they’d all been so kind, and he’d meant it when he’d
said he and Mercedes would never forget the unexpected wedding day celebration they’d
been given. He supposed he could suffer a bit as recompense.

Dragging in a resigned breath, he gripped the leather basket straps with his hands
and began trudging up the hill toward the hut.

What is that noise?
Mercedes wondered as she sat in a chair in the hut’s bedchamber, clothed in a soft
lawn nightgown and robe that had been yet another gift from the ladies.

Sara stood at her back, working a brush through her long hair with deft strokes. Mercedes
hadn’t been so thoroughly pampered since she’d left the academy; she’d nearly forgotten
how grand it felt.

The other ladies had been so kind as well, providing fresh water and sweetly scented
soap so she could bathe. Afterward, giving her some privacy, they had returned to
busy themselves by airing out the sheets, placing a vase of sweetly scented flowers
on the lowboy, and lighting extra candles so that the room glowed with a gentle and
undeniably romantic golden light.

Sara gave her hair a few last brushstrokes, then laid the
brush aside to tie her heavy tresses back with a pretty blue ribbon.