The Queen of Swords: A Paranormal Tale of Undying Love (31 page)

“I knew
your heart was set on a woodland wedding,” Mrs. Worthington told her as she led the way to the head table, “and I was hoping this might do.”

The bride
was speechless. Not to mention, deeply impressed. MacCabe had told her the wedding planner was a creative genius, but she’d never expected anything this spectacular.

T
hey sat, Bride and groom in the center, maid of honor and best man on the wings. There were four glasses of champagne on the table. Cat loved champagne, but could hardly afford to the indulgence on her meager teaching salary. As she reached for the glass before her, her new husband seized her hand.

“That’ll be for the toasts
,” he said sharply, giving her a jolt. She’d expected him to do something romantic with her hand. “Are you that thirsty you can’t wait another few minutes?”

She
took back her hand, face burning both from embarrassment over her lack of decorum and the sting of his censure. That was twice now he’d rebuked her since he’d become her spouse, and she didn’t like it one little bit. She also didn’t like what it boded for their future relationship.

“I’m not a child,
” she hissed under her breath. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t treat me like one.”

“
Then stop acting like one.”

His frosty tone
peeved her all the more. Huffing, she turned to Avery to complain just as Benedict stood and began to tap on his glass with a fork. “Ladies and gentleman, given that neither the bride nor groom have family present, the task falls to me as best man to offer the first toast, a task I gladly accept. But before we raise our glasses and drink to the happy couple, I’d like to give credit where credit is due. And, in this case, the credit belongs to me.” Turning to Graham with a teasing grin, he added, “Did I not tell you to marry the lass and live happily ever after? And now, thanks to me, here we are.” He then lifted his glass and, with a wide grin, offered, “To happy endings!”

Scowling at them both, she
drained her glass and reached for the bottle. Beside her, Graham got to his feet to offer the groom’s toast. He proceeded to thank everybody and their bloody brother, as was the custom, apparently. Meanwhile, she polished off another two glasses of bubbly while regarding his kilt—now at eye level—with devilish intent. What was wrong with him? Why was he being so proper? Where was her horny little honey-Graham? Please let him not become some uptight prig now that he was human and her husband. Her mother said her father had. Five minutes into the honeymoon.

When the toasts were over, the meal was served: Scottish salmon poached in lemon and white wine with herbed potatoes and roasted asparagus.
She ate in brooding silence, hoping her groom would at least say something sweet or try to kiss her, but he spent the whole time talking to Benedict. She, in kind, turned her attention to Avery, learning, among other things, she and Benedict were planning a trip to Ireland soon. At one point, she attempted to slip her hand under the husband’s kilt, but he only swatted it away like an annoying insect, cutting her to the core.

Her spirits rallied some when the orchestra began to play, knowing the wedding dance was imminent. Right on cue,
he rose, gallantly offered her his hand, and led her to the floor. Taking her in his arms, he waltzed her around the room with the skill of a Blackpool finalist. It felt so heavenly to be in his arms, she thought better of complaining about his behavior, but couldn’t seem to help herself.

“Is anything wrong?”

“Of course not. What could be wrong?”

“I don’t know.
You just seem so, well, withdrawn or something.”

Cold and distant. Like my father. Which scares the living shit out of me.

“Do I? Well, I don’t mean to be.”

The
y danced a while longer before she remembered the vow. She caught his eye. “Tell me what we said. The vow, I mean.”

A smile broke across his face and shone from his eyes, lifting her
spirits. “Aye well. I can’t translate it exactly from the Gaelic, but it goes something like this:

“
Heart to thee, hand to thee

Body to thee, ever faithful

Ours shall be a joining of souls

Ours shall be a marriage of equals

This is the vow I make to thee

And hereafter swear to uphold.”

Thinking the vow lovely, she was more than satisfied. Her throat tightened as her eyes welled with tears. As they went on dancing, she forgot her worries, telling herself she’d only imagined his aloofness. When the music stopped, he bent to engage her in a lingering kiss, drawing howls and applause from the onlookers. Desire flamed in her loins as their tongues entwined in a dizzying dance of their own.

The music started again and they started to sway to it, their mouths still locked. All of a sudden, she
was aware that in seconds flat, they could be up against a wall in an alcove somewhere with her legs clamped around his hips. Just the thought of it set her thighs on fire. How would she ever hold out until the reception ended? That could be hours yet. There was still the cake to cut, the garter to throw, and the bouquet to toss. And, goddess knew, the guests were in no hurry to leave as long as free booze still flowed.

Reaching around behind her new husband, she cupped his buttocks and pulled his pelvis against hers, wanting to know if he wanted her right now as much as she wanted him. Damn, she couldn’t tell. All she could feel was the pointy nose of the fox on his sporran.

“What are you doing?” he whispered near her ear.

“What do
you think?”

“I
don’t know.” He chuckled. “That’s why I’m asking.”

She frowned at his mockery, but refused to be defeated. “I want
you.”

He coughed uncomfortably, but didn’t say anything.

Pulling out of his arms, she took his hand and tried to coax him off the dance floor. He followed with some reluctance, looking like a lost child. She led him out of the ballroom, across the foyer, and into the library, shutting the door behind them. Rounding on him, she looked him up and down with salacious intent. “I’m so fucking hot for you right now, I don’t think I can wait another minute.”

He
paled, stiffened, and stepped away, astounding her. He’d never refused her advances before his curse was broken. Was it because he was human now? Had his libido cooled as she feared?

“Don’t
you want me anymore?”

“Of course I do
,
m’aingael
. It’s just that—”

Her heart froze.
She took a step toward him, but, to her great dismay, he again stepped away. Her brows pulled together. “What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing, dammit. Because obviously something’s up with you. And I want to know what it is.”

He raked his fingers thro
ugh his hair, furrowing the smooth top. “Nothing’s
wrong,
exactly. It’s just that, well, I’d really rather
wait
is all.”

Now fuming, she
scowled at him. “Wait? For what?”

“It’s our wedding night, Cat
hleen.”

“
I’m aware of that. But no law I’m aware of says we have to wait until dark.”

Besides, it being the
Summer Solstice, it wouldn’t get dark until ten bloody o’clock.

“I
told you, I want everything to be perfect.”

“Perfection is highly overrated
.” Determined to have her way, she stepped forward and swiped at the front of his kilt. When he jumped back out of reach, her jaw and heart dropped in unison. “Good goddess. You’re serious.”

“Aye
.” His solemn tone and expression told her he would be persuaded. “I’ve waited a long time for this, eh? Dreamed of our wedding day for more than two hundred years. And in not one of those dreams did we steal away from our guests to consummate our vows in secret like a couple of oversexed adolescents.”

S
hame doused her desire. As she stood there, looking at him, not knowing what to say, something he’d told her earlier replayed in her mind:
The way I am now goes against all my values, everything I believe in. And I hate it. With a passion.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize
…”

She reached for him, but he turned away and strode toward the fireplace, which was dark and empty. He just stood there,
fingering the trinkets on the mantle, saying nothing. She watched him, puzzled and afraid. What could be wrong?

He dropped his head
and covered his face with his hands. Her heart wrenched at the sight of him so overcome. She went to him, wanting to console him, but not knowing how.

“I’m sorry
.” She set a cautious hand upon his back. “If it means that much to you...of course we can wait.”

“It’s no
t that.”

Swallowing, she
bit her lip. “Then what is it?”

“
It’s nothing. And everything.”

His b
ack tremored under her hand. She slipped her arms around him and set her cheek against his back. He was crying. She’d made him cry. And now she was crying too.

“I’m so sorry
.”

Holding him tighter, she pressed herself against his shaking back as regret squeezed her heart. She’d only seen him cry the one time. When he told her about finding Caitriona and the baby. Even then, he’d shed only a single tear—nothing compared to this.

So what in the name of the goddess was wrong?

And then, she realized. This sudden eruption of emotion had nothing to do with her or their wedding. Well, it did, but not in the way she feared. It was a release of all the pain he’d pushed down and locked up for more than two centuries. Everything he’d fought so hard and so long to ignore, deny, repress, and suppress was finally spilling out of his heart, pouring out of his soul, springing out of his eyes like healing waters.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

He rocked his head in woe. “I feel like such an arse.”

“Don’t
.”

“What kind of man
bawls like a bairn at his own wedding?”

“A man with a heart.
A good heart.”

He shook her off and she stepped away. Rounding on her, he offered a diffident smile.
When she reached out to wipe a tear from his cheek, he let her. She prayed that, along with the tear, she relieved him of some of his pain. She didn’t want him to hurt anymore, didn’t want him to suffer. Ever. She only wanted him to feel safe, happy, and loved.

With a penitent smile, he
dragged the back of his hand hard across his eyes. “You really are very bonny tonight.”

Her
gaze swept over him. “So are you.”

Lifting
a hand to his cheek, she smoothed back a tendril of hair that had come loose from his braid. He leaned in and pressed his mouth against hers. She returned his kiss with chaste tenderness, tasting the tears on his lips. When he moved his hands to her breasts and attempted to slip her his tongue, she drew back in confusion.

“I thought
you wanted to wait.”

“I
t would seem wee Angus has other ideas.”

Her desire reignited with a
burst. She moved against him with a meaningful thrust of her hips. “Are you sure about this?”

He jerked her to him and kissed her hard. She did the thing she’d been dying to do all day: reached under his kilt, and ran
a hand up his thigh, reveling in the feel of firm muscle and velvet skin. He moaned against her mouth, adding fuel to the fire between her legs. The kiss deepened. Her hand climbed higher and explored.

So intent
was she on what she was doing to him, she was only dimly aware of him squeezing her breasts. The neckline of her dress was too high to allow him to do much else. Still, it felt good and she was so aroused already she didn’t care about foreplay. She just wanted to feel him inside her, claiming her as his wife, not as his property, but as his equal partner.

Ours shall be a joining of souls.

Ours shall be a marriage of equals.

He corralled her tongue and began to suck it. His hands moved to her hips, fisting needfully in the
taffeta of her gown. She unclasped the chain holding his sporran. It dropped between them like a rock. He tugged up her skirt and crinoline, she his kilt. She burned for him so badly she feared she would incinerate on the spot.

“Do
you love me?”

“More than anything in the world.”

“Will you go on loving me forever and ever?”

“
Aye, lass. Till all the seas gang dry.”

He walked her backward toward the bookcase and lifted her onto the ledge. She pull
ed up her skirts, exposing the lace tops of her stockings and the garters of her torsolette. He gazed upon them, eyes smoky with lust. He moved between her legs, spreading them with his knees. When he pushed his erection between her legs, something dark and carnal dragged its claws across her sex.