back at him, and some of the men leaned up against the wall. Everyone was indeed a sorry sight. His clan sat to the right and Sybella’s kin to the left. Aunt Iseabail was the only MacDonell who sat next to a MacKenzie. She sat in the pew next to William, beaming approval. Alex hadn’t seen that spark in her eyes since last eve, when she was in her cups and doting on the MacKenzie man. Alex briefly contemplated whether or not his betrothed had fled when a vision of beauty stepped foot through the entrance.
The MacKenzie plaid was proudly draped over Sybella’s shoulder, and her sky-colored gown displayed a slim waist that flared into rounded hips. The sun illuminated her long golden tresses, making them look like strands of lustrous silk. She was simply…enchanting.
Escorted by her father, she walked slowly and moved with an easy grace. She nodded at a few people along the way and approached Alex at the altar.
He couldn’t help but smile. “My lady.” His voice was shakier than he would have liked.
She curtseyed in response. “My laird.”
The priest asked something of Sybella’s father and the MacKenzie may have answered, but to be truthful, Alex only half listened. Sybella was simply beautiful, and he could barely take his eyes from her. Everything that happened next would remain a haze around the edge of his mind.
He believed he had spoken his vows when he heard his stammering voice, which was nothing but a buzz in his ear. But when Sybella spoke, there was a gentle softness to her words. Her tone was comforting, calming. Or maybe it only sounded that way because he’d barely slept.
“Ye are now man and wife,” said the priest.
When everyone clapped and shouted in response to the priest’s words, Aunt Iseabail’s voice could be heard above all others. “Give her a wee kiss and make it a good one, Alexander!”
He looked directly at Sybella, and they exchanged a subtle expression of amusement. “I cannae disappoint my aunt.”
Sybella gave him a gentle smile. “Of course ye cannae.”
Her eyes froze on his lips and he lowered his head. Standing on tiptoe, his wife pressed her lips to his, his hands locking against her back. She was soft and warm, and suddenly he was very conscious of where his wife’s flesh pressed up against his.
When their kin whooped and hollered, Alex pulled back slightly and gazed into her eyes. Ignoring everyone, he spoke only to her. “Welcome to Glengarry, Lady Sybella MacDonell.”
Aunt Iseabail rushed to the altar and handed Sybella a tartan sash. “This belonged to Alexander’s wife. Ye should have it.”
“It was my mother’s,” he said.
Sybella accepted the sash with gentle kindness. “Thank ye, Aunt Iseabail. ’Tis quite lovely and I shall wear it proudly.” She removed the MacKenzie plaid and draped the MacDonell sash over her dress, fastening the garment with the MacKenzie badge.
“I also have a gift for you,” said Alex. He handed her a bejeweled dagger. “I thought of ye and had it made.”
“Thank ye, Alexander.”
Although she was reluctant to admit it, the man looked positively dashing in the MacDonell kilt and plaid. God help her, but his blatant good looks were hard to ignore. When he touched his lips to hers, Sybella felt as though she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. In truth, she was shocked at her own eager response to his touch.
“Are ye ready for another feast?” Alexander’s hand came over hers possessively and he smiled.
“I am, but I am nae sure I can say the same for our kin.” She glanced around the chapel at the tired faces. “It seems they are still recovering from last eve.”
“There is that,” said Alexander.
A hand clamped down on Sybella’s shoulder and she jumped.
“Let me be the first to congratulate ye, Sister.
“Thank ye, Colin,” she said with a warm smile.
Sybella stepped around Colin, and her father tugged her close. His lips whispered lightly into her ear as he rubbed her back. “Best wishes, my daughter.”
“Thank ye, Father.”
Her father gave a brief nod to Alexander. “Congratulations on your union to my daughter, Laird MacDonell. I am sure ye will find Sybella to be a faithful and obedient wife.”
Sybella stiffened as Alexander clasped her father’s arm.
“Let us hope so, for ’tis too late to go back on our agreement now,” said Alexander, a trace of laughter in his voice.
Her new husband glanced at her for any sign of objection and so did her father. Sybella bit her lower lip before her mood veered sharply to anger. She didn’t think it wise to have heated words with both men on the day of her wedding. When she looked up at Alexander, he gave her a broad wink as if he knew how she felt.
“Is everything all right,
“Of course…
“’Tis so wonderful to have ye here.” When Sybella turned, Aunt Iseabail brought her hands to Sybella’s cheeks. “I hope ye and my nephew will be verra happy for many years to come.”
“Thank ye, Aunt Iseabail.”
The kind woman lowered Sybella’s head and kissed her on the forehead. “’Tis a pity the wedding is over. My husband and I wish we could have spent some time with ye, but we must return home on the morrow.”
Sybella’s heart sank and she wasn’t sure what to say. She rubbed her hand over the aging woman’s frail shoulder, giving her a compassionate smile. Sybella was relieved that Alexander was by her side, but she watched as his features grew more concerned the more Aunt Iseabail spoke.
“Domhnall, ye have yourself a bonny new bride, and I am looking forward to plenty of bairns under this roof. More than one, I tell ye—and they donna need to be all lads. I donna think my poor heart can handle it.” She raised her hand over her chest and laughed.
His gaze was filled with sympathy. “I am Alexander.”
Aunt Iseabail waved him off. “Of course ye are. Ye remind me so much of your father.”
“Will ye be sitting with William for the meal?” Alexander asked, his tone holding a degree of warmth and concern.
Sybella saw William and gestured him forward. “William, Aunt Iseabail will sit with ye for the meal.”
“It would be my pleasure to enjoy such company again.” William held out his arm to Aunt Iseabail, his smile courteous. “What other tales do ye have for me, Lady Iseabail?” Alexander’s delightful aunt rewarded William with a large smile of her own.
Alexander escorted Sybella to the great hall, accepting felicitations along the way. Once again, she took her place beside him on the dais and watched men and women flow into the hall for the celebration. She couldn’t help but glance at him and notice the worried expression on his face. She sensed his disquiet, and frankly, the feeling of hopelessness was all too familiar. Watching the health of loved ones fade was by no means an easy feat.
“Does Aunt Iseabail lose her thoughts often?” asked Sybella in a soft tone.
Alexander had opened his mouth to reply when her father raised his tankard and spoke in an impressive voice. “May you travel in the truth on straight paths—be moderate and civil and never abandon reason; may your race be numerous throughout the land. And may you see your great-grandchildren following in your footsteps.”
Cheers were shouted out in response to the marital blessing.
Alexander took a drink from his tankard and then looked directly at Sybella. When he realized she was still waiting for an answer to her question, he sighed. “More often than I would like. Ever since my father passed, her mind has worsened.”
Sybella looked around at the celebratory crowd and began to speak as memories flooded her. “I cared for my ailing mother and barely left her side. This was the same woman who raised me and loved me from the time I was a bairn. When her days were good, they were verra good. When they were bad…”
