Page 93 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
But she also would never let go of Agnes for as long as she lived.
For she was also a Wells and could be a tad unreasonable in her wants. It was a good thing that Grant was so accommodating in meeting all of them.
For the first time in months, Grant had awoken alone in the cool gray dawn. He went to the windows of his old rooms, staring out at the serene loch, and he closed his eyes as joy threatened to overwhelm him.
I never kenned I could feel like this.
No wonder poets went mad, and kings and queens waged war for it. No wonder he’d risked his life and freedom for it—forher. He opened his eyes and went to his desk to pick up the thick envelope there.
Again, he slowly unfolded the parchment within, his heart thrumming as he reread the missive. Written in a fine, dashed script of deep blue ink.
You are very lucky I adore a good love story, Grant Miller, and can read between the lines of your actions as MacCabe’s Blade.
May you and Emma Wells have every happiness.
I bless your union—and include your pardon within.
Q. Marianna.
Again, Grant felt a wave of dizziness, and he chuckled. Queen Marianna, the most powerful woman in all of England had held this paper and written to him. Blessing their union. Even jesting with him.
And his pardon lay within, with another copy at her Court.
He was free, and his children would be, too. Banrose was safe and recognized by the English crown. Those bastards wouldn’t be able to touch it.
They’d spotted some trouble near MacCabe’s lands, but Damien was already chasing whoever it was off. He’d been on his way to Banrose when he’d stumbled upon some Northern English bandits.
So long as he had Damien, Leo, McWirthe, and Fergus keeping an eye out, Grant could focus on his wedding.
Smiling to himself, he wondered if Emma had woken up yet. He knew that Agnes and Emma had slept together in Emma’s old room last night, and probably had been up half the night laughing and sharing stories.
He almost felt a bit put out that Agnes and Leo would be leaving soon, for he liked having them around, as well as Fergus and his feisty wife, Kristie. Damien had arrived late last night, while Emma’s family had joined them a few days ago.
Grant groaned. He couldn’t wait to get shut of Matthew Wells and his sister. Lavinia was lovely and had struck up a friendship with Brenda, which was nice. But the rest of those English fools had his staff running around day and night, it seemed.
It will be nice to have Emma all to meself again.
He got dressed in his rough clothes, planning on speaking to his steward and McWirthe, having a bit of breakfast, and maybe going out for a ride. Then, he’d hurry back, take a bath, and prepare for his afternoon wedding.
And then we shall make merry all night.
As he walked into the kitchens, his eyes fell on the tall, rangy man sitting on the table, chewing on an apple. His thick, unruly curls were fighting to get out from beneath his cap, falling into a single, brilliant blue eye. A blue that looked almost indigo or purple in some lights, and black in others. The other was lost to an enemy of his father’s when he was only sixteen.
“’Lo, Grant,” the man said cheerily. “Should ye nae be havin’ a bath, nae dressin’ like a farmer on yer weddin’ day?”
Grant laughed and shook his head. “Did ye sleep, Damien? I thought ye planned for a midnight ride or somethin’ along those lines? Gettin’ up to nonsense in the village now?”
“I slept well, Braither,” Damien said and hopped down. “Under the stars, dreamin’ in hazel and recitin’ old poems the English bastards would pretend our folk didnae write.”
Grant laughed and slapped his friend on the back. They had breakfast together, as they had a hundred times before in MacCabe Castle’s large kitchens. Standing, eating, and drinking coffee.
As hard as the days after he’d been exiled from Banrose had been, then later, when MacCabe had shaped him into a blade, an assassin, and a mercenary, he’d always found a steadfast friend in Damien.
Damien, who’d saved his life—and his soul—too many times to count.
“Thank ye for bein’ here,” Grant said in a low, serious tone as they stepped outside.
Damien’s head whipped around, and he nearly fell off the stairs.
