Gifted

Wedding

"Nay," Alina said firmly. "I'll not wear a veil. What is the point of it? He's seen me naked already."

They were tucked away in the sacristy of the village church and she was making every effort not to curse. She had no idea that getting ready for a wedding could take so many hours. It wasn't just getting dressed, either. There were bewildering questions about decorations and details about the ceremony, about who would sit or stand or walk or say something where and when. She was grateful for the help from her two kinswomen but her patience was wearing thin.

"It's beautiful, lass," Morag cajoled. "It's meant to enhance not conceal. Feel how fine the silk is. And the coronet is a Kerr family heirloom. It's a miracle it managed to escape that English hag up at the castle. Ye have to wear it."

"It's bad enough I have to wear a bliaut," she complained, eyeing the dress hanging from the wardrobe. "How did ye even alter it so quickly? They never let me breathe. And ye know I've set myself on fire with sleeves like these before. More than once. Set others on fire with me, too."

"I ken, cousin," Ainsley said wryly. "Ye did that to me once. Three Christmases ago, I think. Bean still sang his song about it last year."

"Sorry I am, cousin," said Alina. "But don't ye both see? That's why I can't do this! I can't be a lady! I can't wear these dresses. I set people on fire with them!"

"Wheesht, now. Ye can be yer own kind of lady," Morag said. "Trim the sleeves down if ye want. Ye make the rules."

"Magnus did say that he wouldn't try to change me," said Alina.

"Well, men will make their promises," said Morag with a wry smile.

At Alina's concerned look, she said, "Marriage means compromise. For the both of ye. Ye'll both have to make changes. Make room for each other. Help each other become better people."

"What if," Alina started, hesitated. "What happens if we can't agree? Once we're married, he has all the power. He'll be laird here. I'll just be his wife."

Morag pressed Alina's hand, "Ye'll always have us, lass. Ye'll always be the Kerr of Glenkerrloch to us."

"Besides," Ainsley added. "Wives have other ways to wield influence over their husbands. He seemed fairly keen on ye this morning..."

"I'll not be some Delilah!" Alina protested.

Morag cut in, sending Ainsley a quelling look, "I think she means to say that yer Magnus seems to want to make ye happy. It's a place to start. There'll be work ahead for both of ye but I believe in ye, lass. Ye're young but ye're smart and tough and ye care about people. We'll be here for ye. Ye'll be alright."

Alina sighed heavily but decided to stop complaining and submit to getting dressed. There was no getting out of marrying today. She liked Magnus. A lot. Her heart fluttered every time he spoke sweet words to her in his deep brogue. She craved the heat of his body and melted at his touch. She'd dreamed of him every night for the last four nights, ever since the first day of that farcical siege. He'd stood on the other side of that drawbridge and looked up at the castle as if he could see her through its stone walls. She'd lurked behind shadowed windows studying his ruggedly handsome features. She was infatuated before she ever met him.

Instinct told her she could trust him. She felt comfortable telling him her secrets from the first. He wasn't like the other gifted people she'd met, either. They'd connected on an even deeper level. Plus, they seemed to genuinely enjoy each other's company. She just wished she had more time before having to make such weighty vows.

"Och, ye are lovely, lass," Morag breathed, stepping back from Alina and turning her toward a long mirror.

Ainsley nodded, eyes misty. The women flanked her as she surveyed her reflection. She looked... like someone who could pass for a lady. A deep-red silk bliaut layered over a pink kirtle of the softest lamb's wool. The fit somehow managed to make her figure look graceful instead of gangly. The wide V at the neck gave her a measure of freedom of movement and the sleeves flared but did not drag to the ground. She could dance in this. Her thick hair was in two plaits twined with pink and red ribbons and a coronet adorned with three garnets held a veil in place over her head. The gauzy, white silk kept clear of her face but cascaded down to the small of her back.

"What sorcery is this, Morag? This isn't just a dress ye'd altered for me last minute," Alina said suspiciously.

"Orla and I had it made for ye this summer," Morag admitted. "After Ainsley's wedding, we agreed it was time for ye to have yers. We thought it'd be to that Campbell lad but this turned out better. Magnus Sinclair is a much better match for ye. More your equal. Ye'll not be able to lead him by the nose."

Alina frowned at the implication but decided to let it pass. The time had come. Father Francis knocked softly at the door and told them all was ready. Her kinswomen left to take their places. Alina stood alone until Garrick arrived to offer her his arm. The church was decorated with boughs of holly and a profusion of evergreens and smelled like a forest in winter. Only nine people were at the wedding: the priest, the bride, the groom and six guests.

Garrick squeezed the hand she'd placed at the crook of his arm. He escorted Alina around to the altar then sat with his wife at the pew behind her. Morag gave her an encouraging smile. Magnus stood across from her, handsome in his Sinclair plaid. His beard and hair looked freshly trimmed and he'd changed into a dove gray coat that looked more formal than the one he'd had on before. The color matched his eyes. She had to look away from the intensity of his gaze.

She assessed the Sinclair siblings as Father Francis started the ceremony. Alec Sinclair stood behind Magnus. He didn't quite have his elder brother's massive proportions and could be argued to be more classically handsome. Alina preferred Magnus's rough-hewn features but she appreciated his younger brother's air of irreverent charm. Flaxen-haired Mairi Sinclair seemed more reserved but displayed obvious affection toward the man with whom she sat holding hands in the pew behind Magnus. Alina realized with surprise that the man was her new husband, Jamie Campbell. She did not recognize her childhood friend at first because his face displayed an assortment of bruises, cuts and several good-sized lumps.

Alina's attention pulled back to the ceremony when Magnus took her hands to offer her his vows. He spoke uninterrupted, apparently declining to have Father Francis provide him prompts.

"I, Magnus Sinclair, take thee, Alina Kerr, tae be my wife

I shall serve ye for all of my days

I vow ye the first cut of my meat and the first sip of my wine

I will keep faith with ye and be loyal tae ye for always

I will love ye and protect ye with my life

Blood of my blood, bone of my bone

I give ye my body so that we are one

I give ye my spirit until my life is done

Ye are blood of my blood, bone of my bone"

Father Francis had to prompt Alina for her vows and she simply repeated the words fed to her. She suspected they were different from his. She was sure she was made to say something about "obey" that he never did. Maybe that's the benefit of choosing your own vows.

The gravity of the ritual was overwhelming. The man holding her hands meant his vows. She was humbled and bewildered and not a little terrified at what it meant to be married in truth, not just married because her clan needed her to be. A practical marriage with the added benefit of genuine affection and a good dose of lust was what she'd thought she was getting into. The vows he made were meant for some ideal of wife that Alina could never manage to reach, nor would she want to. She didn't even like meat and wine that much.

"I now pronounce ye husband and wife," intoned Father Francis. "Ye may now -"

Any further ruminations were cut off by Magnus kissing her senseless in front of their families and the village priest.