Page 53 of My Highland Bride

“Whatever his reasons for helping us, if that is his true intention, it matters not. If Rawlins and the others are exposed as traitors, I would expect the other Highlanders to stand down.”

“They will do so. You have my word.”

And now that he’s given it, I must know.

“If your daughter had not agreed to marry me, what would you have done, knowing of this treachery from within? Would you have stood idly by and allowed Edingham to be drawn into a false war?”

Aside from Reyne, I’ve thought of little else. Moray chose once not to get involved, and our families’ alliance paid the price. Would he have done the same again, even though innocents, albeit Merians, paid the ultimate price? Or would he have lent his support without this new alliance of ours?

Moray smiles, much as he did that first day.

“I suppose we will never know.”

* * *

This is not at all what I expected my wedding ceremony to be. For a time, I imagined it would be held at court, Isolda by my side. Though I cannot say I loved her, she was a beautiful woman, and my father was pleased by the prospective alliance between our families. She cared for me too.

It had felt like enough.

After she fled, I trusted my instincts with women as little as my ability to make decisions devoid of emotion. I retreated into myself, doing my duties but attending no meals or feasts, training every spare moment. Still, I knew it could not last forever, that I would, one day, have to marry. The arrangement, I had thought, would be like my parents’ wedding ceremony, made solely for the families’ betterment.

I think of my parents, who should be here now. My mother will be disappointed, as will Reyne’s, I am sure. My father will balk at first but be pleased by the outcome. He hates being at odds with a man he respects, whose lands border his own.

Some might say my wedding to Reyne is little different than theirs was all those years ago. The idea was not mine, but Moray’s, and yet it feels different. I desire Reyne very much, but I also like her.

“She’s coming.”

Flanked by her father on one side, her brother on the other, Reyne appears at the hall’s entrance, its inhabitants clearly happy to have capped their tournament celebrations with an impromptu wedding. The only one not so pleased is the Elderman, who has reluctantly agreed to marry us. He protested the lack of proper time between announcing the betrothal and this quick ceremony, arguing at least a sennight should pass between the two. His appeal for our exchange of vows to be held in front of Ledenhill’s chapel had even been overruled, our host preferring to provide enough room for all wishing to attend the festivities.

I watch as Reyne approaches me through a sea of mostly strangers, pausing to kiss her father and then Warin, both of whom she has forgiven for their deceit. They peel away, leaving just the two of us. Or so it seems. Wearing the dress she donned the eve of Havefest, her hair falling around her shoulders in red waves of fire, Reyne looks at me.

In a few moments, this woman will be my wife. And although our wedding night may not be the one I’d like to give her, as we leave immediately after this ceremony for Breywood, I vow it will be memorable nonetheless. That small taste of her was not enough.

I take her hand in mine and promise to her, without words, that she will not regret this day. My cheeks hurt from smiling by the time the Elderman finishes the requisite prayers. I want this. But does she? Or is Reyne marrying me out of the same duty that brought me to her?

“Repeat my words, Lord Stokerton.”

So I do.

“I take thee, Lady Reyne, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward.” Reyne’s eyes look wide and nervous. “For better or for worse, for fairer or fouler, to love and to cherish, till death us depart. According to God’s holy ordinance, and thereunto I plight thee my troth.”

Reyne, her voice more hesitant than I’d wish it to be, repeats the words, and we are proclaimed husband and wife.

Cheers erupt in the hall. I am pulled from Reyne almost immediately, embraced by Gille and my squire too. Hand grabbed and shaken by my new brother and father-in-law, and then the men who serve them. It is not until the hall has cleared out, save for about fifty people, and the trestle tables are pulled from the walls, that I am reunited with Reyne once more.

Not Lady Reyne, I remind myself, but my wife.

“Is that typical?” she asks as we are seated at a table for the two of us alone. As is customary, we are placed just below the dais and off to the side. And though many people are gazing at us with open curiosity, we can at last speak with each other. “To be pulled away after the ceremony as we were? I’ve not seen that before.”

Our trenchers and goblets are filled, and the host and hostess make a toast that once again interrupts our conversation. All seem in good spirits, which is as it should be at a wedding. Even one that was conceived of just a few weeks earlier and planned in less than a day. Reyne slept here in the keep last eve. Bathed, her hair pulled back from her face by two braided strands, she looks as refreshed as I feel after a long dip in the river this morn. The same one we will need to cross as we head back to the capital.

As we toast, our eyes meet. A wave of desire surges through me. Which reminds me.

“Our wedding night,” I say, lowering my voice, “should not be in a tent. If we leave just after the meal, we can make Rymerden by sunset.”

Lips slightly parted, my wife is, I hope, remembering the kisses we’ve shared. I’ve so much more to teach her. So much more for us to explore with each other.

And a lifetime to do it. Though I’d prefer not to wait quite so long.