The Warrior (26 page)

M
mmm.” Moira snuggled next to Duncan. Of course, he had been right that they should
wait to say their vows until Connor arrived. It seemed churlish not to wait for him
when he was coming specially for it—and after he had given them Dunscaith.

Besides, Moira was enjoying these last days of clandestine meetings. Though everyone
in the castle knew, they pretended not to.

“I’ll miss sneaking away to your cottage,” Moira said, running her hand over Duncan’s
chest.

“We can come up here any time we want after we’re wed,” Duncan said.

“But will it be as much fun when we’re married?” she teased him.

Duncan rolled onto his side and took her face between his hands. “Everything will
be better when we’re married,” he said, fixing his serious eyes on her. “I promise.”

“How can it be better than this?” she asked, her throat suddenly tight. “I’m so happy
now.”

“That’s all I ever wanted,” Duncan said and then kissed her with a tenderness that
let her know how precious she was to him.

His body was all hard muscle, and yet his lips were soft and warm on hers. Moira sighed
against his mouth and pressed against him. Eventually, their kisses grew heated. No
matter how many times they made love, they wanted each other again.

After all the time apart and how much they both had suffered, she cherished these
intimate moments together. If this joy between them had come easy, perhaps Moira would
not know its worth. But now, she would never take it for granted.

Sometime later, she was collapsed on top of Duncan, her limbs limp and every muscle
relaxed. She thought it would take the cottage catching on fire to get her to move—but
it only took someone pounding on the shutters.

“Get out of bed, you sinners! I’ve come a long way for a wedding!”

Moira laughed when she recognized Alex’s voice.

“Connor’s galley is nearly to the castle.” This time the voice calling through the
shutters was Ian’s. “Sìleas and Ilysa sent us to fetch the bride so they can help
ye dress.”

“That’s the end of this.” Moira grinned at Duncan and gave him a quick kiss. “From
now on, I’m only making love to my husband.”

Duncan stood before his clan in the castle he had grown up in and loved, but which
had never truly been his home until today. He knew every stone of its keep and every
hill and mountain that could be seen from its walls.

Connor faced him, holding a new claymore, an expensive and symbolic gift to mark the
occasion. The flat of the unsheathed blade, which rested across his palms, gleamed
in the light from the lamps and candles that filled the hall.

“As chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat, I entrust this castle and my clansmen who
rely on its protection to a great warrior,” Connor said in a voice that carried through
the room. “Let our enemies beware that Duncan Ruadh MacDonald is now keeper of Dunscaith
Castle!”

The roar of voices and stomping of feet was so loud that it seemed to shake the walls
as Duncan accepted the sword. Fortunately, their clansmen knew Duncan and did not
expect a speech.

“I’m grateful for this honor to serve you and our clan,” Duncan said to Connor over
the continuing clamor. He held the gaze of his friend and chieftain and saw the pride
he felt reflected in Connor’s eyes.

“Who thought we would see this day, my friend, when I was chieftain and you the keeper
of a MacDonald stronghold?” Connor said, his silver-blue eyes gleaming. “And now,
to make you my brother.”

At Connor’s signal, the hall went quiet and then the wondrous music of Uilleam MacCrimmon’s
pipes filled the room. Duncan had sent word to him as soon as he and Moira had returned
to Dunscaith and was pleased Uilleam had received the message in time to come.

Duncan slid the new claymore into the scabbard strapped to his back, then turned and
held his hand out to his bride. As always, Moira took his breath away. She was stunning
in a dark blue velvet gown that matched her vibrant eyes, set off her dark hair and
ivory skin, and clung to her full curves like a lover.

But it was the glow that shone about her, as it had when he first fell in love with
her, that made her truly beautiful to him. His darling Moira was fearless and full
of laughter once again.

Moira touched the sprig of white heather in her hair, like the one pinned to his plaid,
and winked at him. “I hear ’tis not easy to find heather this time of year,” she whispered
under the music of the pipes, “unless ye know where to look.”

White heather, which was a wedding token for good fortune, had been especially hard
to find.

Duncan nodded to Alex and Ian when they came to stand on either side of Connor. Ragnall,
Sarah, and Alex’s daughter Sorcha stood at the front of the crowd, where they could
see. Ilysa was with them, along with Ian’s wife Sìleas and their babes. Alex’s wife,
whom Duncan was very fond of, was pregnant and too near her time to travel.

When Uilleam finished his tune, Duncan and Moira turned to face each other.

Their marriage would be blessed by the church, along with all the others that had
taken place over the last year, when Father Brian came on his annual visit to the
island. Since the marriage contract had already been signed, all that remained was
for them to say their vows before witnesses. In the contract, Duncan had given Moira
his cottage, which was all he had. Moira had been inordinately pleased, though her
tochar
, dowry, was worth far more.

Duncan and Moira first exchanged rings, circles with no end that represented eternal
love. Then they held up their right hands and joined them, palm-to-palm, entwining
their fingers. Moira locked gazes with him as he wound a long, cream-colored strip
of linen around their wrists three times.

“I, Duncan MacDonald, take you, Moira Catriona, great-granddaughter of the Lord of
the Isles, granddaughter of Hugh…,” Duncan began. Moira’s name took considerably longer
than his to recite because of her illustrious lineage. He saw the amusement in her
eyes as he concentrated to say it all correctly. Finally, he reached the essential
promise. “…to be a faithful and loyal husband until God shall separate us by death.”

Duncan said the traditional final words though he believed that even death could not
separate them. Their souls were entwined and bound together like their hands were
now.

“I, Moira MacDonald,” she said simply, breaking the rules as she liked to do, “take
you, Duncan Ruadh MacDonald, to be my husband, before God, our chieftain, and all
our clansmen. I promise to be a faithful and loyal wife to you until God shall separate
us by death.”

A sense of peace settled over Duncan. At long last, Moira was truly his. As he leaned
down to kiss his wife, the hall erupted in cheers. The kiss was like stepping into
warm summer sunshine from the cold winter that had been his life without her.

Uilleam MacCrimmon took up his pipes again as their clansmen surrounded them, wishing
them happiness with the traditional blessings.

“
Guma fada beò sibh.
” Long may you both live. “
Guma slàn dhuibh
.” Health to you both. “
Móran làithean dhut is sìth.
” May you be blessed with long life and peace. “
Le do mhaitheas is le do nì bhith fàs
.” May you grow old with goodness and with riches.

Under Duncan’s glare, the men were cautious with the traditional kisses to the bride
and limited themselves to circumspect pecks on Moira’s cheek.

“You’ve taken my best man from me,” Connor said as he took his turn and kissed his
sister.

“I have,” Moira said, smiling up at Duncan in a way that made him feel all soft inside.

Connor turned to him, and they gripped forearms in the ancient greeting of warriors
and friends.

“I don’t know what I’ll do without ye,” Connor said, his eyes intent on Duncan. “But
it warms my heart to see ye happy. No man deserves it more.”

Ian and Alex had joined them, rounding out the foursome.

“Well, Connor, ’tis obvious to the rest of us what ye ought to do,” Alex said, his
green eyes sparkling with amusement. “’Tis time ye found a fine lass to take that
dreary look off your face.”

“As chieftain, you’re slacking in your duty to produce heirs,” Ian added.

“If you’ve forgotten,” Alex said, “the activity we’re talking about is a good deal
more enjoyable with a partner.”

Connor’s laugh was strained. “The times are still too unsettled for me to know which
marriage alliance will be best for the clan.”

He went on about the rebellion and court factions fighting, but they had heard Connor’s
reasons for waiting before, and none of them was listening.

“There’s nothing that says that when ye choose a wife,” Ian said, slapping Connor
on the back, “ye can’t serve the clan
and
please yourself.”

“My father and grandfather pleased themselves, and look what that did,” Connor said.

The prior chieftains’ relations with multiple women had caused the clan endless strife
and grief. Connor was determined not to follow the same path.

“I believe I won our wager,” Connor went on, changing the subject. “Pay up, lads.”

“’Tis hardly fair when ye told Duncan when to wed,” Alex said.

“One of the few advantages of being chieftain,” Connor said, and held his hand out.

Duncan was pleased to see Connor’s humor returning.

“I don’t know what made ye bring Sarah with ye, since ye didn’t know that she is Duncan’s
sister,” Moira said, and rested her hand on her brother’s arm. “But I’m so glad ye
did.”

“’Tis hard to say nay to that wee lass,” Connor said, shaking his head. “Sarah wailed
and wept until I gave in.”

Duncan expected there would be shouting at times between Moira and Sarah, as they
were both strong-willed and Sarah was unaccustomed to a mother’s firm hand. But he
was equally certain that there would be plenty of love between them as well to smooth
their way.

“The wedding feast is ready,” Ilysa said, after coming up quietly behind them. “Everyone
is waiting for ye to take your seats.”

Duncan was starving.

“Ilysa intends to go to Trotternish and set up Connor’s household there,” Moira whispered
to Duncan as they made their way to the high table.

“I won’t permit it!” When Moira dug her fingers into his arm, Duncan lowered his voice.
“If she’s running the chieftain’s household without her own family there, everyone
will think she’s his mistress.”

“Finding her a husband will solve the problem,” Moira said in a low voice.

“Hmmph. I’ll leave that to you,” Duncan said. “I must help Connor choose a reliable
man to be the new captain of his guard. Tait is loyal and a good fighter, but he’s
no leader.”

Duncan did not like the idea of Connor sitting up there at Trotternish Castle surrounded
by MacLeods. And then there was Hugh, who was as intent as ever on murdering him.
Alex had brought word that Hugh was already gathering more men in the outer isles
with promises of plunder—and there was even a rumor that Rhona was with him.

Tomorrow, the four of them would discuss Hugh and how to force the MacLeods off the
lands they had stolen. But today was Duncan’s wedding day, and it was a glorious day.

“Let’s sit down and enjoy our wedding feast,” Moira said, smiling up at him.

It was a grand meal, with a good deal of toasting and laughter.

“I’m lucky to have a husband with a voracious appetite,” Moira said and gave him a
wink as he speared another slab of roasted pork.

He squeezed her thigh under the table and wished it was time for the bedding part
of the wedding. But after the food was cleared away, there was music and dancing.

Before Caitlin MacCrimmon would agree to dance with Niall, she insisted on lifting
his tunic to make certain his wound had healed well enough. As the wound was quite
high on Niall’s thigh, this caused a bit of a stir.

“All three of the MacNeil lasses look disappointed,” Moira said in Duncan’s ear after
the girls’ mother scolded them for staring and dragged them away.

Duncan waited impatiently through a few tunes before he caught Uilleam MacCrimmon’s
eye. Uilleam nodded and then stepped into the center of the hall playing his pipes.
When he had everyone’s attention, he stopped playing and announced, “The groom has
a song to sing to his bride.”

Duncan stood where he was and sang unaccompanied.

He took Moira’s hand and helped her to her feet. Then he lifted her in his arms and
continued singing as he carried her around the hall. Moira’s cheeks turned pink, but
she was laughing and enjoying herself.

When the people in the hall realized Duncan was carrying her to the bedchamber, they
clapped and cheered.

Duncan kicked the door shut behind him. The bedchamber was hardly recognizable from
when it was Connor’s. Moira and Ilysa had decorated the entire room with holly and
other greenery, and the grand chieftain’s furniture and tapestries had been returned
to it.

Duncan’s bride looked up at him with violet eyes that were full of love. He had waited
until he and Moira were alone to sing the final lines of his song to her.

Duncan felt as if he had waited his whole life to become one with Moira. After loving
her for so long, she was his at last and forever.