Page 17 of Stealing Sophie
“But old Saint Fillan’s is haunted. We should leave this place—”
“We will chance bogles in the night. No more excuses. Father, proceed.”
“Dearly beloved,” the priest began.
“What promise?” The bride looked at Connor. “You made a promise. To whom?”
“I will explain later.” He held her shoulder so tightly he feared she would bruise.
“We are gathered here–” the priest went on.
“You will explain now!” She stomped her foot in its dainty, muddy little shoe.
The priest looked startled. Neill and Andrew exchanged uneasy glances.
Connor sighed. “Excuse us for a moment.” He took her arm and led her around to the other side of the altar to a quiet spot.
“Who paid you to steal me?” she demanded.
“No one.” He lifted a palm to beg peace. “Stolen brides are commonplace in the Highlands. Nothing to fear. My parents had just such a beginning.”
She flapped her flowers in the air. “And look at their son! Tell me about this promise. Now. Please.”
Connor smiled a little, seeing that contradiction of wild cat and kitten. He leaned down, choosing his words carefully. “I have your brother’s permission to marry you.”
She gaped. “I do not believe it.”
“Read this.” Reaching into his plaid, he drew out the folded paper.
She opened the crumpled, stained page warily. Light from the altar candles spilled over the page as she read the message. Connor could smell the sweet fragrance of the limp flower posy. Frowning, the girl caught her breath as she read, then glanced up. Her face had gone pale.
“Is this note...stained with blood?”
“It is,” he said gruffly. “His own.”
She swallowed hard. “‘I, Robert MacCarran of Duncrieff,’” she read in a whisper, “‘do request and grant permission to Connor MacPherson of’—is that your name?”
“It is. Go on. Read it.” He was impatient.
“What is that word there? Something is crossed out, replaced by Glendoon.”
“Glendoon will do.” Robert had scratched out Lord Kinnoull, but there was no time to explain that now.
“‘–to wed my sister’ … this is blurred. Did it get wet? …‘Katherine Sophia MacCarran.’ It is signed Robert MacCarran of Duncrieff, Chief of Clan Carran.’”
“And dated two weeks ago. I had to wait for you to return to Duncrieff Castle.”
“This looks like Rob’s signature, but he would never—”
“He did.”
“I am promised to Sir Henry Campbell. My father arranged it.”
“That engagement is broken as of now,” Connor said. “Your brother told me he wanted that marriage prevented. I promised to oblige.”
“By stealing me away? By intoxicating the priest so he would not remember who he married this night?”
“That,” Connor said, “was unintentional.”
