Page 43 of The Speed of Lightning
Drawn back to the shade of their rowan tree, Freya felt the answer already written in her soul. “I accept ye, Calum MacLean.”
Chapter 11
ST. COLUMBA’S CHAPEL - NOVEMBER 9, 1386
Compared to the pomp of Hector and Cara’s wedding—and Aileen and Léo’s the previous harvest—the gathering outside St. Columba’s chapel was small and reserved. Calum stood with his mates and the men of the Lochbuie guard, all dressed in their finest, waiting for his bride. No pipers played, no villagers crowded the yard. At Freya’s request, the day was kept quiet, private. Still, it was a fair morning to wed a lass, and no small miracle that they had reached it.
David leaned against the stone wall of the churchyard, his grin wide, eyebrows bouncing. “Where are you taking her for the wedding night?”
The men roared with laughter, and Calum fought back a blush. “Da gave us the auld bothy in Lealt, it was all that was available. My parents offered to share their cottage, but I thought it best to start away from Inverlussa. From our parents. And Murdoch.”
Murdoch made a face. “Did you give it a tidy? That bothy looked rough last I saw.”
Calum shrugged. “I made the bed. Picked up supplies from the village.”
“Och. Poor lass. S’pose it’s too late now.”
Doubting whether he’d done enough to make the bothy special, Calum shifted uneasily, trying to recall its state. “Should I have paid for a night or two at the inn instead?”
Iain waved him off. “Dinnae fash. She’ll no’ be noticin’ annaethin’ this night. You’ll be too busy gettin’ to know each other.”
Léo winced and pointed to Gabriel swinging from his hand. “Little ears.”
Angus chuckled. “I tho’ he only spoke French.”
Léo shook his head. “He’s nearly fluent in Aileen’s signs now—and it’s helping him pick up Gaelic.”
Little Gabriel looked up at Calum with curiosity. “Cousin Calum, don’t you already know your bride?”
Calum raised a brow. “Of course I know my bride.”
Gabriel’s nose wrinkled with confusion. “Then why do you need to get to know her tonight?”
Léo rolled his eyes at Iain and crouched down to his son’s level. “They’re going to…play a new game. They’ve never played it before. They need to learn how to be…on the same team.”
David smothered a grin. “Aye, it’s a verra, verra jolly game you get tae play all night.”
Hector roared with laughter, and Léo shot them both a warning glare.
Gabriel grinned. “I want to play.”
Léo groaned, leaning down and speaking rapidly to his son. “Maman et moi jouerons à un jeu avec toi en rentrant. Fais attention à la charrette, la mariée arrive bientôt.”
Gabriel, satisfied, swung contentedly from his father’s hand his eyes now fixed on the road.
Young Eamon, however, darted in circles around his father. “Game! Jolly game! Cousin Calum and Freya play game. Games all night!”
Hector grimaced at his youngest, Finn, who wriggled in his arms and giggled at his da’s half-scowl. “Your mammy’s going to have my hide. Look what we’ve taught your brother.”
Léo snorted. “Not so amusing now, eh?”
Calum sucked in a nervous breath as he thought about taking Freya back to the bothy, suddenly unsure about its cleanliness—or her willingness to play any games with him. The memory of their almost-kiss at her sickbed still taunted him, colliding with the sharper image of her lips on Rory’s the night of the ceilidh. How she’d felt about her Rory remained a mystery, beyond her passing remark that Rory was most handsome.
His gaze fell to the puddle at his feet. Ten years ago, with his hair neatly shaved and braided, his jaw smooth, she might have thought him handsome. Now the reflection gazing back seemed less a suitor of youth and more a man slipping past his prime.
It was just as well, perhaps. On Jura, his days were claimed by his father’s defenses, and the Sundays left for Freya, still hampered by her wounds, offered no ground for courtship. Their acquaintance amounted to little more than a few chaperoned conversations at her bedside, and later, two Sundays at liturgy, once she could manage the walk without pain. Guilt swamped him. What right did he have to expect her to give herself to him tonight when she did not yet love him as she should?
Friends, he reminded himself, pacing outside the chapel.I need to be her friend. Nothing more.
