Page 43 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
“Did ye eat enough?”
“Just managed a plate in between all the madness, aye.”
“Ah, the happy couple,” a voice boomed as it entered the hall, striding straight towards the newlyweds.
Caelan’s uncle, Harrison, swaggered through the gleeful crowd, his arms open wide and his voice loud, ensuring his presence was noticed. Many of the clansfolk, used to his large ego, simply gave him nods and returned to their chatter and dancing.
“Uncle Harrison,” Caelan greeted, rising from his chair.
He placed a gentle hand on Rosaline’s shoulder, instructing her not to rise. It was not necessary, despite the close relation, as his uncle did not involve himself in clan matters enough to be worthy of his surname.
“I didnae ken that the weddin’ was today,” Harrison said through gritted teeth, his lips curled upward in a crooked smile.
“I mentioned it to ye when I saw ye on the way to town a few days ago. Ye werenae around afterward for me to deliver a formal invitation to the celebrations.”
“Ah, what a shame, eh?”
“But ye are here now,” Caelan continued, injecting some joy into his voice when he could manage it. “Grab a plate; there is plenty to go around. Ye might even fancy a dance.”
“I certainly shall,” Harrison drawled. He bent over the table, peering into chalices until he found one half full of red wine. When he saw that its owner was deep in conversation, he picked it up and downed its contents. “Would be rude nae to, eh?”
Caelan’s lips curled into a smile, but it did not reach his eyes.
“I am just glad ye finally found a wife, lad,” Harrison added. “Time was fair passin’ ye by. I suppose ye’ll be chompin’ at the bit to get an heir now.”
“Today is about the wedding, Uncle Harrison. The future of the clan is always on me mind.”
Harrison scrunched up his nose and looked around for another glass.
“Aye, it certainly is and always has been, has it nae?” He sniggered. “Well, I’d hurry if I were ye, what with all these assassins after ye.”
Caelan wanted to end the conversation. It was not the time to discuss any of these matters, but this was the way his uncle had always behaved. He knew it was best to deter him by agreeing.
“Ye’re absolutely right, Uncle. Och, some fresh lamb is bein’ brought out right now; why dinnae ye go fill a plate and feast?”
Harrison grunted, as if he were about to argue, when fresh jugs of ale and wine were brought out and set down beside the lamb. Distraction enough, it seemed, as he stumbled away, grumbling to himself.
“I am sorry about that,” Caelan said to Rosaline out of the corner of his mouth. “As I said, he’s always been… difficult. Best to placate him.”
“That’s quite all right,” Rosaline sighed, giving him a smile to show him that it truly was all right.
“Good. Well, I believe yer favorite part is on its way.”
Rosaline looked at him with surprise and then glee. “The dancers?”
As if on cue, the hollow opening note of the pipes rang out. Drums were checked and tightened, thumping to build anticipation and gather attention. And then the girls in their kilts and socks crowded into the center of the Great Hall, facing the newlyweds—their prized audience.
“Oh, Caelan,” Rosaline breathed as the performers struck up their opening beat.
Her face glowed throughout the entire show, and she clapped to the beat along with the entire hall. It was as if the music filled every crevice of the castle, and everyone was carried along with it.
At the end of the first song, the dancers invited everyone up for a dance with them.
Caelan stood up quickly, knowing many others would seek their chance with his blushing bride. He offered his hand first. “May I?”
“I think ye’re owed the honor,” Rosaline replied.
But it was she who led them to the dance floor, her excitement taking over.
