Tournament of Hearts (14 page)

..oo      Chapter Eighteen     oo..

Isobel had never
been happier. 

She smoothed the
skirts of her ice blue gown and took a final look at herself in the mirror. 
The low scooped neck of her gown accentuated her breasts perfectly.  She knew
that Tristan would love the gown, but she also knew that he could complain that
his men would be admiring her over much.

Her hair was
unbound, just as Tristan liked it, and cascaded in loose waves down her back. 
Her maid had painstakingly woven pearl studded hair pins into the braids that
adorned the crown of her head.

She felt beautiful,
just as a woman should on her wedding day.

As she reached for
the handle of the door she had a sudden pang of longing for her father. 
Despite his unconventional ways, she knew that her father had loved her
greatly.  Isobel wished that he could have been here today to give her hand to
Tristan.  She scrunched her eyes shut tightly when tears of longing threatened
to break loose.

Taking a deep
breath, Isobel opened the door and stepped into the chapel.  Her dressing room
was down the corridor from the main atrium.  Isobel walked briskly down the
corridor, the swishing of her skirts and the clicking of her shoes on the
flagstones the only sound.

“I chose well,
Papa,” she whispered as she smiled slightly.  In her heart of hearts, Isobel
knew that her father would approve of Tristan Finnegan.  Not only would he be
an excellent, loving husband, but he would be a skillful leader and a powerful
Laird.  “I wish that you were here with me,” she said to the flagstones as she
turned the corner and stood at the entrance to the atrium.

Her eyes flitted
up from the flagstones and locked with Tristan’s at once. 

He stood next to
the altar, dressed in a formal crimson plaid and a crisp white shirt.  Isobel
noticed that he wore the McLaughlin tartan, signifying his new position as
Laird.  Tristan’s sandy blonde hair was pulled back into a queue and he was
wearing a radiant smile.  He looked deliriously happy as he stood waiting for
his bride.

Isobel’s blood
heated and her heart beat a rampant rhythm as she strode down the aisle to join
Tristan.  She could not stop from smiling and a broad grin overtook her
beautiful face as she walked towards her soon-to-be husband.

Dozens of candles
adorned the altar of the chapel, their flames dancing and adding a warm glow to
the intimate ceremony.  Tristan stood next to the priest, a portly aged man
that Isobel had known for the entirety of her life.  The priest smiled warmly
at her as she walked down the aisle.  To Tristan’s left stood Brandon and
Hodges, their familiar faces completed the sparse wedding party.

Tristan extended
his hand and helped Isobel up the stone steps that led to the candle lit altar.

Her heart
threatened to burst with happiness as she looked up at the man that would be
her husband.

We’ve won!
Her
heart screamed with each thunderous beat.

Tristan bent down
and kissed Isobel’s cheek as they stood before the priest.  His breath was warm
against her skin and sent shivers of anticipation zipping down her spine.  He
took both of her hands in his and they stood facing each other before the altar.

“Tis good to see
that you are happy with the match chosen for you, Isobel,” Priest Murray said
with a knowing smile.  He had always held a fond place in his heart for Lady Isobel
McLaughlin and he was overjoyed to see the lass so content on her wedding day.

“I chose him
myself,” Isobel said with conviction as she looked into Tristan’s hazel eyes.

The Priest laughed
heartily.  “Shall we begin?”

“Aye,” Isobel and
Tristan said at the same time.

“Ye shall go
first, Tristan,” Priest Murray began.  “Repeat the words to Lady Isobel after
I’ve spoken them.”

“Aye,” Tristan
nodded, his eyes never leaving Isobel’s lovely face.  He listened to Priest
Murray’s words and spoke his vows slowly and ardently to Isobel.

 “I take ye,
Isobel McLaughlin to be my wife.  Ye are blood of my blood, and bone of my
bone,” he said reverently as he looked into Isobel’s blue eyes.  “I give ye my
body that we two might be one.  I give ye my spirit ‘til our life shall be
done,” Tristan said, his body thrumming with the overwhelming emotion of his
love for Isobel as he spoke his vows to her.  “You cannon possess me for I
belong to myself, but I pledge to give you that which is mine to give.  I shall
serve you in those ways that you require and the honeycomb will taste sweeter
coming from my hand,” Tristan vowed, his voice raw with emotion.  “Above and
beyond this, I will cherish and honor ye through this life and into the next.”

Tears of happiness
streamed down Isobel’s face as Tristan spoke the vows of marriage that would
bind them together for eternity.  She was overcome with emotion from both the
ordeal that they had endured and the happiness that overflowed from her heart.

“Doona cry, love,”
Tristan whispered as he reached up and wiped away her tears.

“I cannot help
it!  I’m just so happy!” Isobel stammered.  She laughed and allowed Tristan to
wipe away her tears with his thumbs.  When he was finished, he took her hands
in his once more.

“Tis your turn,
Isobel,” Priest Murray encouraged.

“I take you,
Tristan Finnegan to be my husband,” Isobel said, her voice jubilant.  “You are
blood of my blood and bone of my bone,” she smiled as she looked up at
Tristan.  “I give you my body that we two might be one,” Isobel said as her
face flushed pink at the meaning of her vow.  “And I give you my spirit ‘til
this life is done.  You cannot possess me for I belong to myself but I pledge
to give you that which is mine to give.  I shall serve you in the ways that you
require and the honeycomb shall taste sweeter coming from my hand.”  Isobel’s
pulse raced as she looked into Tristan’s eyes.  “Above and beyond this, I will
cherish and honor you through this life and into the next.”

Overcome with
emotion, Tristan pulled Isobel towards his chest and captured her lips in a
possessive kiss.

“Ye may kiss the
bride,” Priest Murray said a moment too late.

Tristan threaded
his fingers through Isobel’s hair and kissed her lips sweetly as he held her in
his arms.

“And by the power
vested in me, I proclaim ye tae be husband and wife,” Priest Murray added.  He
cleared his throat when the young couple extended their first kiss a moment
longer than was proper.

Tristan
regretfully drew his mouth away from Isobel’s lips.

He gifted Isobel
with a mischievous look that told her that they would finish this later.

“My wife,” he
whispered against her mouth.

Isobel’s mouth
turned up into a broad smile.

“My husband,” she
said in return.  “We have won,” she said, not believing their good fortune.

..ooOOoo..

Tristan carried
his wife up the stone steps two at a time.  He nuzzled his favorite place in
the hollow of her ear and elicited a sweet giggle from his bride.

“Where are you
going?” Isobel asked between giggles.  Tristan had walked right past the Laird’s
chambers and had continued down the candle-lit corridor.

“I’m taking my
wife tae bed,” he said huskily as he continued walking.

He nipped
playfully at Isobel’s earlobe and squeezed her bum.

“But will we not
sleep in the Laird’s chambers?” she asked, thinking that Tristan did not know
where they were supposed to reside now.

“To tell ye the
truth, Wife, we will not be sleeping much tonight,” he said with a lop-sided
grin.

Isobel felt her
face flush and she bit her lower lip.

“Trust me, love,”
he whispered as he eyed his beautiful bride desirously.  “We will not take up
residence in the Laird’s chamber.  I’ve had the room at the end of the hall
prepared for us.  We shall stay there from now on.”

“Why?” Isobel
asked.  Her father’s chambers were the grandest in the keep and she wondered
why Tristan had found them unappealing.

“Two reasons. 
One, the Laird’s chambers were your father’s.  I thought his memories might
make living there difficult for ye,” Tristan said softly.  “And secondly,
because the chamber at the end of the hall is safer.”

“Oh,” Isobel said
with a shy smile.  She was touched by Tristan’s care for her feelings.

“And it is my
first priority to keep my wife safe,” he said as he leaned down and kissed her
soundly.

Tristan opened the
door to their chamber and carried his wife over the threshold.  Isobel’s eyes
scanned the room.  It was perfect.  A large four poster bed dominated the room,
causing Isobel to blush as she considered what was to take place tonight.  Her
body thrummed with anticipation.

Tristan set Isobel
on her feet and went to kindle the fire.  There was a small fireplace opposite
the giant bed.  Isobel watched as Tristan knelt before the hearth.  His muscles
rippled beneath his linen shirt. Her husband was the absolute picture of male
perfection.

 Isobel could
scarcely believe that Tristan had won the tournament and that she would get to
keep him.  He had endured so much for her.  He had fought such obstacles for
the both of them, so that they could earn this chance to be together.  The love
that Isobel felt for Tristan caused her heart to race.  Isobel’s chest
constricted as she watched him kindle the fire in the chamber that they would
share from now on.  She felt as if her heart might overflow with the love that
it garnered for the man before her.

My husband.

Tristan stood and
brushed his hands on the wool of his kilt.   He turned around. 

Isobel felt her
face flush.  Tristan had caught her admiring his beautiful body.

He smiled
alluringly.  “What were ye thinking about, love?” he asked.

“You,” Isobel
responded innocently.

“Aye?” Tristan
asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I was just
thinking that I get to keep you,” she breathed sweetly.

Tristan stalked
towards her with love shining deep in his hazel eyes.  He gathered Isobel in
his arms, delighting in the soft curves of her body as he enclosed her into his
embrace.

“And I get to keep
you,” he whispered huskily as he smiled down at his wife.  “I had my heart set
on you from the verra beginning,” Tristan admitted as he trailed his fingers
lightly down Isobel’s cheek.

Isobel stood on
her tip toes and captured Tristan’s lips in a gentle kiss.  She felt his
muscular chest and thighs pressed against the length of her body, which caused
a new feeling to burn deep within her.  As Tristan’s mouth arched over hers,
that feeling grew.  He kindled the desire growing within her as expertly as he
had kindled the hearth fire.

Isobel was no
longer afraid of what would happen tonight.

Because what would
happen tonight would happen with Tristan.

She ran her
fingers down the muscled planes of Tristan’s chest.

He took in a swift
breath. Isobel’s gentle touch affected him greatly.  He felt her slender
fingers at the waist of his kilt.  His muscles trembled as Isobel un-tucked his
linen shirt.

Isobel’s heart
pounded in her chest.  She glanced up at Tristan, meeting his eyes for a scant
instant.  The desire burning in his hazel eyes told her that what she was doing
affected him greatly, but that it was alright.  Holding Tristan’s steely gaze,
Isobel grasped the tails of Tristan’s shirt and slid the shirt up and over his
head.  She wanted to feel his bare skin beneath her fingertips.

Tristan shucked
out of his shirt and tossed it carelessly on the floor.

Isobel’s palms
flattened against his chest.

Tristan’s muscles
tensed beneath her gentle fingertips.  He was encouraged by Isobel’s bold
exploration of his body but her touch maddened him.  His breathing was ragged
as Isobel trailed her fingers lightly over his bare skin.

She leaned forward
and placed a soft kiss on Tristan’s collar bone.  His skin was warm beneath her
lips.  She could smell his enticing and thoroughly masculine scent.

The fire within
her was raging now and Tristan had barely touched her.

Tristan could take
no more of his sweet wife’s innocent torment.

He brought his
lips against hers, soft and gentle at first.  His tongue traced her lower lip. 
Isobel’s sweet mouth caused his body to tremble with need.  She was so innocent
and yet so trusting.  Tristan knew that Isobel knew nothing of the intimate
relations between a man and a woman and yet her lightest touch was akin to that
of a siren.

Tristan nibbled
playfully at Isobel’s lower lip.  When she moaned against his mouth and pressed
her body against his bare chest, Tristan momentarily lost his fragile control. 
He growled low in his throat and then claimed her mouth passionately, showing
her with his kiss how much he desired her.

Isobel felt
Tristan’s hands at the laces of her gown.  He tore himself away from her mouth
and kissed her eyelids, her cheek, and her neck as he struggled with her laces.

“I canna untie
them,” he chuckled into Isobel’s hair.  “If ye doona help me, I’ll tear ye
right out of yer wedding gown.”

Isobel laughed. 
She reached behind her back, her hands gliding over Tristan’s.  Deftly, she
untied the laces and loosened the corset of her gown.  She was completely bare
beneath it, and her heart raced in her chest at the thought of standing naked
in front of her husband.

Tristan’s hands
spanned Isobel’s back.  He gently loosened the corset of the gown, sliding his
fingers in between the laces to delight in the softness of Isobel’s skin.  His
eyes locked with hers as he began to slide the heavy silk gown down over her
lush curves.

Tristan’s heart
thundered in his chest.  His cock bucked in anticipation.