Page 98 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
Rhona’s stomach dropped to her feet. Someone had been spreading lies about them, poisoning the king’s opinion before they’d even had a chance to explain their side of the story.
“Yer Majesty,” Ian began, stepping forward with careful respect. “If ye’ve heard reports about me conduct–”
“Oh, we’ve heard a great many things, Laird Wallace,” the king interrupted. “Tales of raids and battles, of captive brides and forced marriages. Utterly disturbing indeed.”
The accusation hung in the air like a guillotine ready to fall. Rhona felt the weight of every eye in the hall upon them, the carefully built alliance between their clans suddenly as fragile as morning’s frost.
“However,” the king continued, and something in his tone made Rhona’s heart leap with unexpected hope, “we have also heard other tales. Tales of a man who chose love over political advantage, and of a woman who chose forgiveness over revenge, of clans that chose peace over war.”
He stepped closer, studying both their faces with keen intelligence. “Tell us, Lady Wallace – fer we understand congratulations are in order – were ye forced intae this marriage against yer will?”
Every person in the hall held their breath and Rhona could physically feel the weight of history balance on her answer, the future of all three clans present hanging on her choice of words.
“Nay, Yer Majesty,” she said clearly, lifting her chin with MacAlpin pride. “I chose this marriage freely, chose it fer love, and I would choose it again every day fer the rest of me days.”
“And ye, Laird Wallace,” the king turned his attention to Ian, “what say ye tae the charges that yer used yer position tae coerce this noble lady intae wedding ye?”
“I say they’re lies, Yer Majesty,” Ian replied without hesitation. “I did everythin’ I could tae help her overcome the trauma inflicted by me predecessor.”
“’Tis true, Yer Majesty,” interjected Rhona, bowing her head respectfully. “He gave me time, he gave me kindness, he gave me choices, and when I was taken by the schemin’ enemies, he risked everythin’ – including Yer Majesty’s wrath - tae get me back. Nae fer political gain, but because he loves me.”
The king was quiet for a long moment, his dark eyes moving between the newly married pair with an intensity that made Rhona feel as if he could see straight through to their souls.
“We have watched the Highland clans tear each other apart fer generations,” he said finally. “Watched as good men died in petty feuds, watched resources wasted on meaningless conflicts. But here…” he gestured toward the assembled crowd, “here we see something entirely different. Three clans united nae by conquest, but by choice. Alliance built nae from fear, but in love.”
He smiled then, the expression transforming his stern features completely. “This is precisely the kind of unity Scotland needs. We hereby formally recognize this marriage and the alliance it represents. Furthermore, we grant our royal blessing tae the union of Clans Wallace and Clan MacAlpin.”
The silence that followed was only broken by Allistair MacAlpin’s delighted laughter. “Well,” he said to no one in particular, “that’s one way tae ensure the weddin’s memorable!”
The celebration that erupted was even louder than before, fueled by relief and joy and the intoxicating knowledge that they had somehow turned potential disaster into royal approval.
As the king mingled with the clan chiefs, discussing the practical implications of the new alliance, Rhona found herself pulled aside by her sisters.
“Can ye believe it?” Aileen whispered, her grey eyes wide with wonder. “The king himself came tae yer weddin’, Rhona!”
“I thought fer certain we’d all end up in the dungeon when he arrived,” Isla added with her characteristic daring grin. “But instead, we get royal approval! Only ye could manage such a thing, sister!”
“Och, I just hope the fightin’ is truly over,” Lorna said quietly.
“It is,” Isolde said firmly, her hand finding Rhona’s. “Look around ye. Witness what love has accomplished here.”
Rhona did look, taking in the sight of Wallace warriors sharing ale with MacAlpin farmers, of MacCraith ladies teaching Highland dances to giggling Wallace children, of her father in deep conversation with Ian.
“Aye,” she said softly. Love has built this. Love and Highland stubbornness and a fair bit of luck.
Much later, when the formal celebrations had wound down to intimate conversations around the dying fire, Rhona found herself alone with Ian on the castle battlements. The starsstretched endlessly above them, the very same stars that had witnessed their tentative first steps toward trust and love.
“Dae ye think we’ll be happy?” she asked, leaning into his warmth as his arms encircled her.
“I think,” Ian said slowly, “that we’ll certainly have our challenges. Politics and clan duties and all the complications that come with tryin’ tae build somethin’ new. But happy?” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Aye,mo chridhe, I think we’ll be extraordinarily happy.”
“Even when I’m bein’ stubborn and impossible?”
“Especially then,” Ian chuckled. “Life would be far too dull without ye.”
They stood in comfortable silence, watching the last of the wedding guests make their way to their chambers, the castle settling into peaceful quiet around them.
“Thank ye,” Rhona said suddenly.
