Page 6 of An English Rose for the Highlander
At that, Laird MacKay took another step forward. He was so close now that she could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the timbre of his voice skittered down her spine when he spoke next.
“Ye’ll learn quickly enough,Rose. Highland men daenae hide behind layers as yer English fops might.”
He pulled back, and her breath caught in her throat, shaking her from head to toe. The inclination to be appalled hit her. It was the proper response. The man had invaded her space, used her informal name, and looked at her with that smirk far too much.
And yet, all Rose could focus on was the thundering beat of her heart against her ribs, and the silent cry in the back of her mind that was far too wild and reckless.
3
In a haste that Rose could hardly comprehend, Laird MacKay secured a special license for their marriage, not a small feat, and she found herself standing in the church, promising her future to him as his wife. Rose’s heartbeat surged so quickly, so loudly, within her that she hardly even heard the priest’s words as she stood at the altar with Laird MacKay.
Tension wrought her body, unmovable and seemingly without end. This was to be one of the happiest days in her life. While she knew that she would not have been marrying for love previously, there was an undeniable charm to the Viscount before he revealed his true colors. Now, standing before the enormous Highlander, Rose could only focus on the panic that swirled through her, twisting her stomach into knots.
Rose was dimly aware of the clergyman finishing his recitation of the “Solemnization of Matrimony,” and soon after, a blessed ring being slid on her finger. She looked up into Laird MacKay’seyes as he repeated the words offered by the priest, his large fingers still on the ring.
“With this ring I thee wed, with me body I thee worship, and with all me worldly goods I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
They both received communion, and Rose had to assume that several scriptures were read, because she seemed to blink, and such a long time had passed. They signed the register, declaring themselves legally bound, and the ceremony was concluded.
Solemn, quiet, and filled with no great fanfare afterward.
As she glanced at her new husband once more, a frown darkened his striking face, and Rose swallowed hard. Her pulse quickened, fluttering in her throat, and renewed anxiety consumed her. Was he to leave? Was this the moment when she would be again left stripped of her assets and abandoned by the man who was to be her spouse?
Humiliation at the hands of another man will surely destroy me.
The two of them remained standing at the head of the aisle before the small altar in her parish church. The few people gathered stared at them in silent confusion and worry. Laird MacKay glanced about, looking back at his man-at-arms who stood just behind him. At all times, in fact.
“Was that all there is?” he asked, the dark slashes of his brows deeply furrowed.
Rose’s eyes flared, and she nodded numbly. The guests remained frozen just a few feet away from her, the tension rising so that it began to choke her.
“Och, nay. We willnae have it ending there. A handfasting. At once.”
Familiarity with the Scottish custom was slim on her part, and Rose turned to the clergyman with her brows still up to her hairline. It was hardly her place to deny the man his wishes, nor anyone there, considering he was a Laird. She had heard of the event, however, and what she did know was that it was a formal marriage custom, binding the bride and groom.
Laird MacKay was not running.
A brief sigh escaped her before Rose righted herself. She could not deny the relief. Her groom was only seeking to instill his own customs. He was not leaving her with nothing, ruining her family. If anything, she would always be grateful to the man for that simple fact because she had taken for granted the honor of a man once before.
He will claim you as a bride truthfully, in the ways of his people. It will be all right, Rose. It will.
In a flurry of activity, Laird MacKay’s man-at-arms, along with some of the lesser clergyman, gathered a bit of white cord. Her groom’s hand swallowed her, smattered with scars, and tanned from the sun against her pale, unmarred skin. She watched his face with rapt attention, Laird MacKay’s dark gaze never leaving hers.
She was consumed by that stare, in a bit of a daze as the cord wrapped around their hands, her stomach flipping about. The heat of Laird MacKay’s palm melted into her, the room seeming to disappear around them, leaving only the two of them and the pristine white cord that entwined around their joined hands.
“I, Dominik Kane, Laird of MacKay, take thee, Rose Barton, daughter of Lord and Lady Fernside, for my wedded spouse. I give me promise to be true to ye, in all things, from this day forward. I pledge to ye me living and dying, equally in yer care. I shall be a shield for yer back, and ye for mine.”
Laird MacKay nodded at Rose, his brows rising as he squeezed her hand. She blinked, coming back to herself a hair, and doing her best to repeat the vow to him. Still, he supplied her with the words when she faltered, and before she knew it, she was saying back to this proud Scottish Laird words that rang with a sense of prophecy and potency.
“I pledge to you my living and dying, equally in your care. I shall be a shield for your back, and you for mine.”
A slight upturn of her groom’s face sent her pulse reeling for the heavens once more, and Rose stood breathless before himas the handfasting finished. The intensity of the moment was indescribable. Laird MacKay’s blazing gaze was still locked on her, and Rose could not look away even if a shot rang out in the church. Time had slowed, and then all at once, it picked back up again, and her new husband was taking her down the steps of the church, ignoring her parents’ plea to remain for a wedding breakfast.
“Is the carriage prepared, Oskar?” Laird MacKay spoke to his man-at-arms, and Rose pulled back, bristling at how this obstinate man was treating her as if she were nothing more than a piece of luggage. It was as if the candle of intimacy that had burned during the handfasting was abruptly snuffed out.
“Aye, me laird. All is waiting and ready for the journey north.”
Rose looked between her new spouse and parents, renewed panic rising in her chest.
