Page 41 of Highlander's Escaped Prisoner
“Will you stop calling me mistress?” she begged. “I have asked you a thousand times, Maudie, but I am a grown woman now, and I am shortly to become a wife. You are like a mother to me. Please call me Nessa.”
Maudie laughed. “I will try.” She took one last look at the bride, then kissed her cheek. “Now it is time for me tae ready myself, Mis—Nessa,” she announced. She took a deep breath. “Did I ever tell ye how much I love ye, Nessa?”
Nessa smiled. “No, Maudie,” she replied, “but you never had to. I have known for years, and I have always loved you just as much.”
The two women embraced each other fondly, then Maudie left, and Nessa was alone.
She looked at herself in the mirror. The young woman gazing back at her looked like Nessa Guthrie, but she was not the same person who had entered the castle a few days before. That Nessa had been an innocent maid who had been unsure of the man she now knew she loved. That love glowed within her and shone out of her; she could see it.
Just then, there was a firm knock at the door, and Nessa opened it to see her father on the other side.
He gave a gasp when he saw her. “You cannot be the wee lass who used to sit on my lap and play with my beard,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. He stepped forward and grasped her by the arms. “Look at you, Nessa. I-I cannot believe you are going to be a wife.”
She hugged him and smiled up into the blue-gray eyes that were exactly the same shade as her own. “You have to let me go now, Father.” Her voice was tender as she kissed his cheek. “I am not your wee lassie anymore.”
Roy swallowed the lump in his throat, then reached into his pocket, took out a little leather pouch, and handed it to her. “This was your mother’s.” His voice cracked a little as he spoke as he remembered the beautiful woman who had walked into the church to meet him on the day they had bound their lives together. “She asked me to give it to you on the day of your wedding.”
Nessa turned the pouch upside down, and a gold chain with a simple gold crucifix on it spilled into her palm. “Oh! It is quite lovely!” she breathed, holding it up to the light. She turned to Roy again. “Please fasten it for me, Father,” she asked. “My hands are shaking so much I cannot do it myself.”
The laird did as Nessa had bid him, then stood back to look at her once more. “Your mother would have been so proud, Nessa,” he murmured, cupping the side of her cheek with his hand as he smiled at her. “Is there anything you need from me before I hand you over to your husband?”
“Only your blessing, Father,” she answered, smiling.
Roy kissed his daughter’s forehead. “You have that, Nessa,” he said softly, “a hundred times over.”
Bryce was more nervous than he had ever been in his life, but he was determined that when the time came to take his vows, he would not freeze, stutter, or shake. He was a big man, and he could take on even bigger men in a fair fight and win, so why was he suddenly so terrified?
Nessa was seven inches shorter than he was, but she could handle a bow, a dagger, and a sword as well as any man, and that was intimidating. However, that was not what scared him. It was only when he looked toward the church doors and saw her walking toward him on the arm of her father that he knew. She made him weak with love, and at that moment, it seemed as if she was the center of his world, the point to which his whole life had been leading. He could hardly believe that tonight he was going to make her his.
Roy Guthrie led her up to his side and placed Nessa’s hand in his. “Look after her,” he said grimly, as he placed his daughter’s hand in Bryce’s, “or you will answer to me.”
Looking into his fierce eyes, Bryce believed him.
She drew up beside him, and he whispered in her ear: “You look like a queen, sweetheart.”
Nessa’s smile almost melted his heart. “You make me feel like one,” she whispered.
Father Denis, the French priest who had been living in Scotland for the past ten years, had married so many couples that he had lost count, yet he never forgot their names, and every one was special to him. He was a thin, spare man of middle years whose life had been dedicated to the church since boyhood. Now, as he surveyed his latest couple, he smiled beatifically.
“There is nothing I like more than a wedding,” he announced. “Because what is better than a celebration of love?”
He studied Bryce for a moment. “You are a big man, Bryce. Are you strong enough to cherish this woman, give her all your love, faithfulness, and all your possessions, protect her from harm, and nurture your children?”
“Oh, yes!” Bryce replied happily. “I would die for this woman.”
Nessa laughed softly. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to take Bryce in her arms and cover him with kisses, but that would come later.
“And you, Nessa.” The priest turned to address her. “Will you be his faithful and loving partner in the years to come, ’til death parts you? Will you be his lover, the maker of his home, and the mother of his children?”
“Yes. Oh, yes!” she replied rapturously.
“Then you are husband and wife,” Father Denis announced. He smiled at both of them before giving Communion and a final blessing. Then, in a complete departure from tradition, Bryceswept Nessa up in his arms, strode through the courtyard, and set her down inside the great hall of the castle.
“Now you are mine,” he whispered, and kissed Nessa hungrily, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and ravishing her lips with his. “My wife, my only one.”
“And you are mine,” she reminded him. “Mine to command.”
“Of course, milady,” he laughed, then looked around him to find that most of their guests were staring at them appreciatively. “But you can command me later when we are alone. You may do anything you wish with me.”
