Page 41 of In the Hands of a Highland Bandit

“Aye,” the old lady answered. “But trust me, lass, if I know that big lad, an’ I think I do, he will nae harm ye. He is completely devoted tae ye. He adores ye, and I think he will do anythin’ tae make ye happy.” She smiled at Greta, and there was a world of wisdom in her eyes.

“So ye say the first time hurts?” Greta asked.

“A wee bit, but just for a minute,” Clodagh said soothingly.

“I am so glad I know now.” Greta put her hands over Clodagh’s, smiling gratefully. “Thank ye, Clodagh.”

“Go tae sleep, Greta.” The old woman smiled her kind, grandmotherly smile again. “I know ye will find it hard, but try anyway.”

Greta lay down on her pallet and drew the blankets over herself, but to her surprise, she fell at once into a deep and dreamless sleep.

21

Finn was not so lucky. He tossed and turned for what seemed to be the whole night in the cottage, thinking about what had happened a few hours before and what was about to happen a short time later. He was going to be a husband!

The thought terrified him but, at the same time, made him feel as if he might explode with joy. He was used to eating a substantial breakfast, but this morning he could manage nothing but a cup of warm ale that sloshed around in his stomach before he forced down a stale bannock.

He went out into the burn to wash himself then shaved with the same knife he used for skinning rabbits. He did not want even a shadow of a bristle on his face on his wedding day, but he had no mirror, so he could only shave to the best of his ability, and if a few scraggly hairs escaped, there was nothing he could do about it.

He donned his shirt, then his plaid, and pinned it onto his shoulder with his only treasure, his clan brooch, then looked at himself as best he could in the water of the burn. However, it was bubbling as it flowed over hundreds of pebbles, and he could see nothing.

He sighed.This is the best I can do,he thought as he tightened the belt around his waist, wishing he felt more ready.

* * *

Greta was over the moon with happiness. She felt beautiful, beloved, and special. Today she would be the center of attention, and for once, she did not mind a bit. She was about to see the dress she would be married in, and she simply could not wait.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Greta hugged Clodagh as she brought out the simple gold-colored linen dress that was only a shade lighter than the hazel of her eyes. It had long sleeves, a simple round neck, and fell straight to her feet. She knew that the dress had been worn before by a rich man’s daughter as a simple day dress, but to Greta, it played the role of a wedding dress, and she was happy to wear it as such. Clodagh was a skilled seamstress who had trimmed and fitted the simple garment to fit her every curve and embroidered the neckline and wrists with flowers.

“I will be so proud tae wear it,” she said delightedly. “I feel like a princess. Thank ye so much, Clodagh!”

“I was proud tae decorate it for ye, lass,” Clodagh replied, with a warm, happy smile on her face. “An’ ye don’t look like a princess. Ye look like a queen!” She had collected a bunch of wildflowers for Greta to carry, which were prettier than any hothouse roses Greta had ever seen.

Greta had declined the offer of flowers in her hair, deciding to let the whole mass of curls fall where it wished to around her neck and onto her shoulders. She could do nothing about her shoes, which were very well-worn. They were her only pair, and she could not go barefoot since the forest floor was too rough. She bemoaned the fact to Clodagh, but the old woman only laughed fondly.

“Do ye think he is goin tae be lookin’ at yer feet, Greta?” Her eyes were twinkling.

Greta giggled and gave Clodagh a playful swipe, then the two women made their way to the clearing in the forest where the ceremony was to take place. As they emerged into it, Finn’s and Greta’s gazes met, and each smiled with admiration.

Finn could not believe that the young woman with the lustrous, tumbling brown curls and shining golden eyes was going to be his. Her dress was simple and pretty, unlike those of the nobility, but then, they were not nobles, merely ordinary folk, and to his eyes, Greta would have looked beautiful had she been dressed in a sack.

However, she was perfect, and as she approached him, her eyes shining, his heart swelled with so much love he could hardly contain it. He reached out and captured both her hands in his, then bent over to kiss her lightly on the lips. “I love ye,” he whispered.

Greta could hardly believe the sight she beheld when she entered the clearing. She had seen Finn in many states of dishevelment, but she had never seen him in his best clothes, with a snow-white shirt and the plaid of his clan wrapped around his muscular body. The kilt was well worn, and he had carried it with him everywhere, but Greta cared nothing about that.

He had shaved his face until every last bristle was gone, which Greta thought was a pity since she had always loved the roughness of his unshaven skin. Nevertheless, he looked magnificent, like a lion she had once seen in a picture book, and she felt a thrill of desire course through her as she moved to his side.

They were being married by the oldest man in the village, Paddy McCarthy, who was regarded as the unofficial first citizen of Dunnaig. He was seventy years old but looked twenty years younger, having the upright bearing of an ex-soldier. Indeed, he had declared that he would still be fighting if he had not been wounded in the shoulder by an English sword, so he still harbored a bitter hatred of them.

Their witnesses were Clodagh, her sister Naimh, and her husband Brian Dougherty, all dressed in their Sunday best.

“Are we all assembled?” asked Paddy, looking around them.

“Aye!” they chorused.

Paddy, who had officiated at many marriages of this nature, had a special piece of cloth he kept for the occasion. It was a length of linen stained with blood and was said to be the bandage that had been wound around the head of an Irish martyr. No one knew whether the story was true or not, but nobody cared.

He stepped forward and wound the cloth loosely around the hands of the bridal couple, then tied it in a slack knot.

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