“Then welcome to it.” Colin looked to Caithren. “You, too.”
He went to the door and signaled, whereby more servants than were necessary paraded in carrying the many dishes that comprised the wedding supper. They smiled conspiratorially as they set down platter after platter, slanting sidewise glances at Colin and each other before parading back out.
Steaming dishes of chicken cullis, fricandeau of beef, and artichoke pie wafted their scents toward Caithren’s nose. She did feel like part of this family. Jason’s hand squeezed hers beneath the table. One of his feet moved to tangle with hers, making her face heat with thoughts of their wedding night to come. When she turned to him, she felt so warm and happy she couldn’t quite believe it.
A grand sallet sat on the table, a bed of young greens with mandarin oranges, eggs, and long sprigs of rosemary standing tall, stuck into lemon halves and hung with cherries. But Kendra went for a cake.
“She always eats dessert first,” Ford said at the look on Cait’s face.
Kendra smiled, licking marzipan off her lips. “I might not have room for it later.” She took another bite. “Would you like some?”
Cait shook her head and reached for some chicken. Toasts were drunk and good-natured teasing abounded. An hour later, when the meal was finished and everyone still sat around talking, she pushed back her chair and rose.
They all turned to look at her.
“A Scots funeral is merrier than an English wedding,” she declared. “Whatever happened to that bagpiper?”
Jason shrugged. “I think he’s eating in the kitchen.”
“Well, would somebody fetch him already?” She moved from the table and shook out her skirts. “I’ll be wanting to dance.”
While Ford went off to do her bidding, she gave the others instructions. “Hold hands in a circle, lads and lassies alternating. That’s it. Now, who has a handkerchief?” When Colin produced one, she handed it to her cousin. “Cameron, you take the middle since you know what to do.”
When the piper arrived, Caithren surprised everyone by kicking off her shoes, then running to scoop up her lucky silver coin when it rolled across the floor. Laughing, Kendra and Amy doffed their shoes as well. Although they couldn’t cajole Clarice into dancing in stockinged feet, at least her shoes were flat and sensible. Wee Mary wore flat shoes, too, but she was perfectly happy to get rid of them and her stockings, besides.
“Very well.” Cait turned to the piper as Ford took his place in the circle. “We’ll have a reel first, if you please.”
Around and around they went in time to the rousing tune, until Cameron came from the center to Cait. The circling stopped, and he laid the lace-edged hankie at her feet. They knelt on either side, and she bestowed him with a kiss on the lips. This met with mixed laughter and gasps until Cait snatched up the handkerchief and took her place in the middle.
Around they went again, dancing until she chose Jason. Their kiss was long and heartfelt, causing much throat-clearing and finally applause. After Jason bowed and went into the center, the circling resumed.
Jason chose Amy, and Amy chose Colin, and Colin chose Kendra, and Kendra chose Ford, and Ford chose Mary, and no one was surprised when Mary chose Cameron. By the time Cam chose Clarice they were all worn out, and Cait signaled the piper to take a rest before Clarice had to go to her knees.
Just in time—as Clarice’s cheeks had gone even pinker than her dress.
“A kissing dance!” Kendra said, breathlessly making her way to a chair. “I’ve never heard of such a thing!”
“There’s much kissing at Scottish weddings.” Cait winked at Cameron, still hovering close by Clarice. “A kiss can be claimed at the beginning and end of each and every dance. Now, get up, all you lazybones. We’ll have a strathspey next, and a hornpipe after that.”
The piper played those and more, and some English tunes as well, and if the familiar notes sounded a bit odd wafting from the pipes, nobody cared. It was past midnight before Cait let the poor musician go and the wedding party began stumbling off to bed with a lot of final kisses and good nights.
While Ford went off to fetch a footman to see Clarice and Mary home, Cameron kissed Cait on the cheek. “Lang may yer lum reek—an’ may he huv the coal tae fill it.”
Jason’s brow creased. “What is that, Gaelic?”
“Nay.” Cait laughed. “We don’t know the Gaelic. After all this time with me, you still cannot understand plain English when you hear it, aye?” She smiled. “He was wishing we live long and well.”
“I thank you, then. I think.” Jason clapped Cameron on the shoulder. “And I wish you a good night.”
“He wants me to leave you,” Cam said to Cait.
“Aye, and I second the request.” Minutes earlier she’d felt exhausted, but her body suddenly came awake at the thought of the night ahead. “I’d thank you to escort our guests to the door and then take to your bed.”
“Good night to you, then, sweet cousin.” A little drunkenly, she thought, her cousin lifted wee Mary from the chair where she was sleeping and beckoned Clarice to follow him from the chamber.
As she turned to Jason, Cait’s heart began to thump. Locking his gaze on hers in a way that set the pit of her stomach to fluttering, he waited until Cam’s footsteps had faded, then grabbed her hand and pulled her running up the staircase.
When he stopped before his bedchamber door, she wound her arms around his neck and went up on her toes to press her mouth to his. “You must carry me over the threshold,” she whispered against his lips. “It’s bad luck if I trip.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to start with bad luck.” Her eyes slid closed as he kissed her. His lips still sealed to hers, he caught her up, opened the door, and stepped inside.
