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‘And this is my son Brice,’ Lord Murray said. When Brice came forward, Marion felt like she was waking up from a very long sleep. She simultaneously had the sensation of her heart leaping from her chest and dancing a reel on top of a hill. She felt ridiculous, hopeless and filled with wonder all at the same time. Looking at the top of his head when he bent to kiss her hand, Marion realized that Brice was the only one of the three men that she had just been introduced to, who had greeted her so beautifully. He had hair the color of a loch at night, Marion mused, and eyes like two forest pools. When he raised his head Brice scanned her face briefly and nodded, her hand still in his. Lady Murray fluttered up to the assembled gathering and looked from Marion to Brice and back again. This was not the plan she thought, as she greeted the young girl whose gaze lay on her youngest son’s face like a warm blanket, so that both her face and his seemed to be aflame with barely concealed excitement. ‘Come, come,’ Lady Murray said, ‘We must go inside. The Bridal party has been sighted. I can hear the piper play!’
Brice nodded to Marion and turned to go inside the Chapel. Marion stared after him, noting with delight that he was wearing a kilt.
‘Marion, my dear,’ Lady Buchane said, ‘You must not stare so at the young lad. I daresay you do so because you have never seen a man in a kilt before.’
‘My apologies, Mama, I did not mean to stare at all. Was I actually staring?’
‘It would seem so,’ Lady Buchane said. She took her daughter’s arm as they walked into the Chapel and whispered, ‘What did you think of Robert? He is handsome, is he not?’
‘He is,’ Marion said, ‘Why do you ask?’
Lady Buchane clicked her tongue. ‘ Don’t play the innocent with me, young lady, you know perfectly well why I ask.’
‘Surely you do not expect me to have an opinion after one brief introduction?’ Marion whispered back. ‘But tell me mama, what do you know of Brice?’
‘Just that he seems entrenched in his Scottish roots and will be laird of Bothwell one day.’
‘How so? He is the youngest son, is he not?’
‘He is. But William is to live in England and Robert in France.’ Lady Buchane leaned closer to Marion’s ear. ‘Just think – you could live in France!’
‘Well fancy that,’ Marion said dryly, not in the least enamored with the idea of marrying Robert and going away to a country that held no charm for her.
Robert and Brice were standing together with their brother William as the Bridal party processed into the Chapel led by a piper. It was a poignant moment and Marion was entranced as she watched the ceremony. But as William and his bride pledged their troth to each other, Marion found her gaze caught and held by Brice’s mesmeric green eyes. She could not have felt warmer if he had reached out and taken her into his arms. The imperceptible nod he gave her was like a caress, and Marion’s hand flew to one burning cheek.
‘You look distressed…or unwell,’ Lady Buchane remarked, turning to Marion as they left the Chapel and made their way over to the banquet.
‘On the contrary, I feel remarkably well,’ Marion replied.
‘Your face is flushed!’ Lady Buchane observed.
‘Perhaps, but I do feel well mama, I promise.’
In the Great Hall of the Castle, where there was feasting and dancing, Marion scoured the area for the object of her thoughts. William and his bride were there, greeting guests and dancing. Robert was there too, first by his brother’s side and then conversing with his parents. He disappeared from view and reappeared at Marion’s side while she continued to scour the gathering for a glimpse of Brice.
‘Lady Marion, would you dance with me?’ Robert asked and Marion turned to him. ‘I am afraid I have very little knowledge of Highland dances,’ she said.
Robert laughed. ‘I cannot say I am an expert myself, but you will be well acquainted with the dances this evening, I am certain, for they have very little flavor of the Highlands.’
‘Oh,’ Marion said, disappointed, and shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to be free for Brice, whenever he put in an appearance, and she was not particularly excited about the dances that evening lacking in Highland flavor. ‘Perhaps I will join you in the next dance,’ she said. I think I will sit down for a bit.’
