Blessing The Highlander (12 page)

 
           “Your father is Seamus MacGregor, chief of his clan. He has been searching for ye ever since ye went missing. Do ye recall him, Seonaid?” He knew what her answer would be but he still had to ask.

 
           She shook her head. “Nay. His name does nae sound familiar.”

 
           “Nae matter. He kens that ye are safe...and wed ta me. He will nae be taking ye anywhere, lady wife.” He had noticed her body tensing as she heard the news so he clarified his hold on her for her own peace of mind. “He has sent ye a wedding gift.”

 
           Surprise filled her expression, then eagerness. She spun around in the chair. “What is it?”

 
           Garrick sheathed his sword and rose to retrieve the gift from where he had stowed it, beneath the bed. She hurried over to see Garrick’s plaid folded deftly on top. She gave him a confused look. Why would a MacGregor give her a Brodie tartan?

 
           He chuckled at her confusion. “I wrapped it inside so it would nae get soiled.”

 
           “Oh.” She smiled and turned to open the folds revealing the expensive gown, matching slippers and beautiful cloak. “Tis wondrous,” she said in awe as she ran her fingers over the gifts. “Is he here? I must thank him!”

 
           “Nay. He had them delivered. When we return home we will require a wedding feast. Ye can thank him then.”

 
           She nodded. “Is your torque a gift from my father as well?”

 
           Garrick’s hand shot up to his throat as he thought to deny it, but that would be a lie. After all, it was a gift from her true father. “Aye. That is true.”

 
           “He must be contented with the match. That is fortunate.” She was pleased that her recently located father was not going to dispute her wedding Garrick. That was one concern she could put aside. She stroked the velvety softness of the gown. “Should I don my new gown now?”

 
           He came up behind her snaking his arms about her waist breathing in the scent of her. “Nay. I would wish ye to wear it when we enter Castle Brodie. And as me wife, I would request ye ta wear me plaid, as well. It would give me much pleasure.”

 
           She turned in his arms, stretching up on her toes to give him a peck on his scruffy jawline. “If it pleases you… then it pleases me.” As she carefully began rewrapping the gown, she began to ponder what her life was going to be like with Garrick. She had no clue about castle life or being a wife. And she realized that she knew no more about his life than she knew of her own.

 
           “Tell me of your home...your family. I ken nothing of you. Do you have sisters, brothers?”

 
           Garrick sat back down by the fire drawing a long blade from his leather boot and resumed his honing. He contemplated the best way to explain his past as far as the MacGregors were concerned. The silence grew so long that Seonaid began to regret asking him such personal questions. She was about to apologize to him when he cleared his throat and began to speak.

 
           “Forgive me, Seonaid, I do nae commonly speak of such things. But, of course, ye would be curious… as would I if things were reversed.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I have nae siblings. My maither died when I was very young. I do nae recall her. I was raised by Hagar. She was me nursemaid and is still the healer for me clan. Nae one kens how auld she be. She is ancient. That is all that we ken of her. My da said she was ancient when he was a lad.” He chuckled. “She is very wise nevertheless. If ever there is a question where ye can nae find the solution, she would be the one ta ask. If she can nae answer it then there be nae response. But the only kin I have left are a few cousins of which ye have met four.”

 
           She listened quietly as he described a solitary life filled with fleeting moments of happiness. “What of your father?”

 
           He eyed her speculatively for a moment. “Me father was a rash man. He took foolish risks and endangered the lives of me clansmen fairly often. His last exploit seven years ago cost him his life.” Garrick paused, inhaling deeply. He considered her squarely in the eye. “He went reiving on MacGregor lands… breaking his neck when his horse stumbled. Twas his own doing. I do nae hold your kin accountable for his folly.”

 
           Alarm filled her until he had finished speaking. She realized that she had wed a very logical man which was probably the result of his father’s actions. “I am glad that you are a wise and levelheaded man. I am nae certain I could be the same.”

 
           Garrick laughed softly. “Ye give me too much credit, sweet wife. It took copious uisge beatha and countless weeks ta come ta that decision. I was just as rash as me father in me grief but Angus poured so much swill in me that I could nae sit a horse. And he did so each day until I took the time ta find out the whole truth of the matter. Aye, Angus be the one ta give credit. I learned me lesson all the same. From that time on I have given all me decisions much contemplation.”

 
           “Even to wed me?” she asked quietly.

 
           He glanced up abruptly. “Ach lass,” his eyes softening, “Ye be the exception. I admit that I gave it considerable thought but I kenned I would wed ye...nae matter what may come. There was nae reason, logical or nae that would have prohibited me from wedding ye.” He took her fine-boned hand and held it to his lips for a moment. His blue eyes glistened with desire and that expression she could not name. She smiled up at him.

 
           “I am pleased.” She stroked his cheek lightly savoring the roughness of his bristly jaw… so diverse from her own.

 
           There was a soft scratching at the door breaking the spell between them.

 
           “Enter,” he called out.

 
           Angus opened the door bowing to them both. “Forgive me for interrupting m’laird...m’lady. Ye said ta let ye ken when the escort arrived.”

 
           Garrick’s brows shot up attentively. “Any difficulties?”

 
           Angus grinned and shook his bushy head. “Other than appearing like drowned rats...nay.”

 
           “Very well. We will be along presently. Feed and dry them, then prepare them ta meet their new mistress. Did they fetch what I requested?”

 
           “Aye. Liam is delivering it ta ye. I must add that he is a mite upset with your choice of bride,” he laughed.

 
           Seonaid gave Angus a startled look. “He does nae favor me?” Worry was written across her expression. She did not wish to cause a rift with his clansmen. They were his family.

 
           “Do nae fash yourself, m’lady. He simply fancied ye himself...naught more grave than that. He is but five and ten. He will survive.”

 
           “Oh,” she smiled.

 
           “Well, I will be off. Unless ye require something else, m’laird...”

 
           Garrick shook his head. Liam was just approaching the door as Angus swung it wide. “Here is our besotted lad now!” he jested in a raucous voice.

 
           Liam blushed red as he shot a rancorous stare at Angus. He beheld his feet as he inquired, “Where ought I put this, m’laird?”

 
           Garrick indicated the bed as he noted the embarrassment of the lad. “Cadence has missed ye, Liam. He has been out of sorts without your company. Mayhap ye should see ta him when ye are completed here.”

 
           Liam brightened considerably. “Aye, I will do that m’laird!” He grinned up at Garrick. “Did I nae tell ye that he required me?”

 
           “Aye lad, ye were correct. Go on with ye now.”

 
           “Aye, m’laird...m’lady!” he replied enthusiastically as he rushed from the room.

 
           He felt the light touch of Seonaid’s hand on his arm. “That was very sweet of you, Garrick.”

 
           He snorted. “Sweet is nae a worthy reputation for a chief! His pride was bruised by Angus. I could nae let that pass. A man is naught without his pride!” He turned to the bundle wrapped in oilskin… unfastening it.

 
           Seonaid gasped at the array of items before her. There were chemises of the finest linen, stockings, three gowns with slippers to match and a beautiful hand-carved whalebone brush. The gowns were exquisite, she thought as she held the blue silk up to herself to judge the size. The second gown was a lovely pale yellow made of the finest wool weave. The third, a deep burgundy, also wool, embroidered with yellow silk thread around the edges in a Celtic knot pattern. “Tis beautiful!” she exclaimed in awe.

 
           Garrick smiled widely. “Ye like them then?”

 
           “How could I nae! Where did you acquire them?”

 
           “They were me maither’s gowns. Da gave her the blue one… the other two she wove with her own hand. Will they fit ye?”

 
           She smiled at her husband through tear-filled lashes and bobbed her head, not trusting her voice.

 
           “Then I will help ye put on the silk. I want ye ta make an impression on me clansmen when they encounter ye.”

 
           Garrick assisted her as she disrobed, struggling with the rising evidence of his desire beneath his kilt. He speedily situated the silk gown over her figure… lacing it. He rotated her around to face him… sucking in his breath. She was beyond stunning! She was breathtaking! The silk clung to every curve of her supple body, swishing with the slightest movement. He could only stare as he drank in her beauty...dumbstruck. Her décolletage was a bit lower than he desired his men to view, heavy with her breasts to near bursting… but it was acceptable in public. He just did not want his mean leering at her. Or so he told himself as he tugged the bodice up as much as he might.

 
           “Is it pleasing?” she asked worriedly.

 
           He grunted grudgingly. “Aye. Ye are a vision. Finish dressing while I change into clean attire.”

 
           Garrick unfurled the second oilskin, donning a snowy white tunic and a bliaut of the darkest blue. His kilt was two shades of green in a crossed pattern with thin yellow and red lines cutting through it. He pleated it and held it with his leather belt then draped the remainder over his left shoulder pinning it in place with his family crest broach. He tied on his sporran, strapped his sword to his back, slipped a sgian dubh in his sleeve… then glanced at his wife braiding her long red-gold tresses. He growled to himself depositing a dirk in each boot as an added precaution.

 
           He stepped up behind her, pressing a warm kiss to her nape and placed a pearl necklace over her head looping it once to create a long strand with a choker. He lifted her to her feet and bound her waist with a gold kirtle studded with sapphires. His throat went dry as he stood back admiring her. She blushed.

 
           Is my hair satisfactory?” she asked anxiously. His gaze traveled to her head, which he definitely had not been looking at, and observed the arrangement. She had braided it and then wound the braid about her head, looping it into a fiery crown holding it in place with pins. He nodded approval.

 
           “Only one thing is absent.” He held out his maither’s arsaid and placing it over her left shoulder pinned it in place with a smaller version of his clan crest. He was disappointed that it did not conceal more of her breasts but could see no hope for it.

 
           “Are ye ready, me lady?”

 
           She gnawed on her lip nodding. He eyed her critically, walked to the bed and picked up another sgian dubh which he positioned inside his doublet, and then he placed her trembling hand on his arm.

 
           “Let us meet your new kinfolk… shall we?” He smiled at her as they proceeded to the private banqueting room at the inn.
And God help any of them that dare upset her...or leer!

 
           As they approached the chamber boisterous laughter was heard from within as Angus finished one of his ribald tales.
It must have been exceptionally amusing,
Garrick supposed, as he heard loud guffaws emanating from the room.

 
           Liam was stationed outside the entry and instantly stuck his head in the room to announce their arrival. He held the door for them as they entered. There was immediate silence as all eyes fell on Seonaid. Several men’s mouths were gaping open as they openly ogled their new mistress.

 
           Garrick held his head high with pride as he led his wife to the dais down the center aisle. He felt her grip tighten with fear on his arm but she held up her head staring straight before her.
She will make a fine Countess
, he mused.
 I have chosen well.