Page 73 of When the Laird Claims
“Oh, I do hope that I can find such a man,” Melody sighed, as she helped Victoria and her elaborate gown into the carriage, for their father had already gone on ahead.
“I imagine the two of you have… feminine things to chatter about, and I already have a headache. I shall await you at the church,”he had said with a smile, quite recovered from the injury that had almost taken his life.
“I see no reason why you should not, now that everything is taken care of,” Victoria insisted, her skirts settling as she sank onto the squabs. “Although, do be wary of anything that seems too good to be true, and be warier still of charming gentlemen.”
Melody frowned. “Is Arran not both of those things?”
“His charm is of the rough sort; it is not contrived,” Victoria explained. “And we have been through enough that it is not too good to be true; it is just… good. So very good.”
She blushed a little at the memories of all the nights they had spent together, in his chambers, in her chambers, in the gardens, in the hunting cabin by the loch, in the library. But Melody did not need to hear about that. Victoria might have become more worldly, thanks to her beloved, but Melody was still innocent of such things, and, being her older sister, Victoria wanted to keep it that way until necessity dictated otherwise.
“Yes, so we have all heard,” another voice joined in, heralding Emma’s late arrival.
Victoria’s best friend had been beyond distracted since she had arrived at MacLeon Keep two days ago, her gaze drawn like a magpie to something shiny, only instead of silver, it was tall, muscular, soldierly Scottish men that had her chirping excitedly. It had gotten to the point where Victoria had to keep reminding Emma that it was rude to stare.
Right now, however, it was Victoria’s turn to blush. “You have heard nothing. Do not say such things in front of impressionable minds.”
“My lips are sealed.” Emma pretended to turn a key against her mouth, flashing a wink at her friend. “Goodness, how I envy you. I have half a mind just to stay here indefinitely after the wedding, but alas, my father would never permit it. He claims to be a liberal man, but I had a hard enough time convincing him to let me attend the wedding; he would collapse in a fit if he heard I never intended to return. A pity to have to abandon such… fine sights.”
Melody frowned, oblivious. “I think it looks rather like the Chiltern Hills.”
At that, Victoria and Emma erupted into laughter, which only made Melody’s frown deepen. In the end, the poor girl rolled her eyes and stared out of the window, watching the pretty moorland drift by as the carriage took them toward the church. But therewas a small, secret smile on her face, as if she might have understood more than she let on.
All Victoria knew was that she was so very glad to have her sister and her best friend with her again, the two women having formed a friendship of their own during Melody’s unexpected stay with Emma. Indeed, Victoria would be forever grateful that her friend had been exactly the savior they had needed, though she had never doubted that Emma would be.
Some twenty minutes later, the carriage came to a halt outside a quaint church of gray-quartz sandstone, with a gleaming slate roof.
Emma did not wait for the footman, as she booted open the door and helped Victoria down herself, with Melody following after. Together, arms linked, the three of them passed through the gate of the churchyard and down a path of crushed seashells until they reached the sisters’ father, who lookedveryglad about his decision to travel alone.
“We will await your grand entrance,” Emma said, leaning in to kiss Victoria’s cheek, before she darted through the church doors. As they opened, Victoria heard the faint sound of animated chatter, igniting the first flutter of nerves in her stomach.
Melody smiled and kissed Victoria’s other cheek. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, dearest sister.”
With that, she followed Emma into the church until it was just Victoria and her father waiting at the top of the porch steps. Victoria had assumed they would wait in silence until the fiddler played them in, so it was a surprise when her father spoke.
“Are you happy, my dear girl?”
Victoria smiled. “Abundantly, Father.”
“Good. Good, I am glad of that.” He paused. “My wedding day was the happiest of my life. I think of it, even now. I… wish your mother were here to see you looking so beautiful, so happy, though I am certain she is watching us from above, rather pleased that you have managed to get me to see sense, at last.”
With a hand on her heart, her other in her father’s grip, she nodded. “I miss her, too.”
It was the first time that he had willingly spoken about the wife he had loved and lost, and though Victoria would not get too far ahead of herself, she had a feeling that everything that happened really had been the start of her father’s recovery. Not just from his injury, but from the grief that had driven his bad behavior for far too long.
“Shall we?” he asked as the fiddler began.
Victoria nodded. “Yes, lead me to my beloved.”
They walked into the church, greeted by rows of smiling faces, all people who had come to celebrate the joyful, unexpected union between Arran and Victoria. But Victoria barely saw them, her eyes flitting straight to the handsome, towering man at the end of the aisle. A man smiling back at her, his green eyes ablaze with such love that it knocked the air out of her for a moment.
She could not get to him fast enough.
As her father handed her over to Arran with a tear in his eye, Victoria felt as if a missing piece had been put back in its rightful place. She had missed her beloved, even though they had only spent one night apart since her return.
“Ye look remarkable,” Arran said. “Beautiful.”
“You look rather handsome yourself,” she replied, grinning.
