Highland Heat (31 page)

Quinton growled and rubbed his jaw.

“Now look here, Cameron. Ye obviously have nae been trying hard enough, and it’s a good thing I’m here to sort this mess out. Ye young folks cannae get anything accomplished without help.”

Quinton glared at her. “Ye’re just like yer father.

“Thank ye,” Robert Chattan replied before he looped an arm across Quinton’s shoulders. “No’ that it has nae caused me a load of worry…”

Deirdre watched them disappear into the tower. She should have been irritated that they were off to discuss her future, but the sight of the Chattan retainers being welcomed by the Cameron ones was too good for her to find anything to quibble about. Merriment filled the faces of those extending their hands in welcome.

It was a fine sight to be sure, made so much better by the feeling of love warming her heart.

***

Deirdre Chattan married her lover.

She stood in the church inside the walls of Drumdeer Castle wearing the fine silk clothing that Joan Beaufort had given her. Quinton had convinced her that it was her rightful payment for helping the queen escape. Her father smiled behind her, and she felt his respect for her once again.

Fate was kind, indeed, far wiser and kinder than Deirdre had ever asked it to be. In fact, she was grateful for the times that fate had turned a deaf ear to her pleas, for they had brought her to the side of her soul mate.

And knowing Quinton Cameron’s love was worth every tear she’d shed along the road that had led her to his side.

He pulled her close as the priest offered the final words of their marriage blessing.

“Are ye ready for the kiss of peace, lass?”

“Ye’d be bored unto death within an hour if I accepted it and became docile as the church expects.”

He grinned before claiming her mouth in a kiss that shocked the priest. Deirdre kissed him back with every bit of heat that she felt burning inside her. The assembled witnesses began to cheer, and the priest made the sign of the cross over them with a shaking hand.

But the holy man grinned, for after all, it was a good day when the laird married. A fine day indeed.

***

“What’s keeping ye from supper now, wife?”

Deirdre looked up, startled to hear her husband of a single week inside her study. Quinton wasn’t growling at her but raised one of his dark eyebrows. She set the quill down and smiled at him.

“In all the excitement, I never penned a letter to the queen.”

Deirdre blew over the ink before folding the paper.

“Do ye regret no’ taking a place in her household?”

Deirdre lifted a candle and used its flame to melt sealing wax onto the center of the letter. She pressed the seal of the Countess of Liddell into it before it cooled. Satisfaction filled her as she looked at her seal, the symbol of what she had chosen to be.

“I see ye are seeking compliments tonight…” She stood and went to her husband, leaving the letter on the desk. It was her past and could be sent after she kissed her husband. She reached for him, smoothing her hands along the sides of his face.

“Knowing ye wrote that letter is compliment enough, for it tells me ye are happy here.”

He closed his arms around her.

“I am loved here.”

“That’s right… hellion.”

Mary Wine
is a multipublished author in romantic suspense, fantasy, and Western romance. Now her interest in historical reenactment and costuming has inspired her to turn her pen to historical romance. She lives with her husband and sons in Southern California, where the whole family enjoys participating in historical reenactment.