Page 66 of The Outlaw's Bride
The priest stepped close. He held a length of plaid in his hands, MacDonald colors: green and blue threaded with white and red. He began to wind the plaid around their joined hands while he spoke the words that would join them.
Adaira’s vision misted as she listened to him. And when it came to the part where they had to recite their vows to each other, she gave up trying to stem her tears. They flowed silently down her cheeks, as Lachlann recited the words, his gaze upon hers.
“Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone.
I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One.
I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done.”
When the vows were completed, the priest unwrapped the plaid that joined them. “Ye are now man and wife,” he said with a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “May yer union be blessed.”
Lachlann pulled Adaira into his arms and kissed her soundly. When they drew apart, they were both breathless, and Adaira’s pulse beat like a drum in her ears. Still in the cradle of Lachlann’s arms, she turned her head back to where her sisters stood. She hadn’t looked at them once since the ceremony had begun, for her entire attention had been upon Lachlann.
Rhona was weeping openly, tears streaming down her face. She clutched Taran’s arm, as if for support. Caitrin stood quietly next to her. She too wept, but in a gentle, reserved way.
When Adaira and Caitrin’s gazes met, her sister’s mouth curved in a tremulous smile. “That was beautiful,” Caitrin said huskily. “Thank ye for letting me be part—"
Boom.
The kirk doors flew open, crashing against the wall. The entire building shuddered in the impact.
Adaira gasped. She went rigid in Lachlann’s arms. His embrace tightened as their gazes swung back to the doors.
A heavy-set figure with wild auburn hair, and an even wilder expression, limped into the kirk, followed by four burly warriors. Una hurried into the kirk behind them.
“Stop this handfasting!” Malcolm MacLeod roared, his voice echoing high into the rafters. “I forbid it!”
Chapter Twenty-eight
The Heart Decides
“YE CAN’T FORBID it,” Lachlann replied, his voice ringing out across the kirk. “It’s already done. We’re now husband and wife.”
The sight of Malcolm MacLeod, the man who’d thrown him down into the dungeon to die, and who was now trying to ruin his life once more, made fury rise within Lachlann. How had MacLeod learned of this ceremony?
However, it didn’t matter—he was too late.
“Bastard Fraser whelp!” MacLeod limped up to the altar and stopped before them, meaty hands clenched at his side. “How dare ye. No Fraser is wedding one of my daughters—not now, notever.”
“I’m sorry … but they are wed in the sight of God,” the priest spoke up timidly. “Ye cannot undo it.”
The look the MacLeod clan-chief bestowed upon the priest was so venomous that the small man wilted. His throat bobbed, and he cast Lachlann a pleading look.
Lachlann kept his arm firmly around Adaira as he faced her father. He could feel her fear, the rigidity of her body.
“Da,” Rhona spoke up. “Please don’t—”
“Silence!” Spittle flew as MacLeod roared. “I’ll deal with ye and Taran later. Do ye think the windows of Duntulm keep are blind? Una saw ye two ride off earlier. Only ye didn’t take the coast road as ye said. Instead, ye rode directly here.” His gaze swiveled to Caitrin, pinning her to the spot. “And ye, lying vixen. Ye carry no basket of bread. Ye hurried straight through the village to the kirk. Una saw it all.”
Lachlann drew in a long breath. So, it was his former step-mother who had betrayed them.
Una MacLeod was staring at him, a look of naked victory upon her face. He hadn’t seen her in a few years. There were no signs of age upon her; she looked exactly as she had when she’d lived at Talasgair. She was small and dark, with elfin looks. Her eyes were just as sly as he remembered too.
“Stop it, Da,” Adaira finally gasped. “None of this matters. Lachlann and I have pledged our lives to each other. Ye can’t change it now.”
Adaira’s words impressed Lachlann. The lass had courage. She was terrified of her father, and yet she faced him.
Malcolm MacLeod hadn’t been expecting such a proclamation. He jerked back, as if she’d just struck him across the face. Even Una’s smirk faded. However, the shock only lasted a moment. MacLeod recovered swiftly.
