Page 380 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Seventeen

“Victoria!” Father Brennan’s shout brought with it a silence as deafening as the earlier clamor had been.

Victoria winced, but Iain suspected it was due to the priest’s betrayal and not the reprimand the single word held.

“You go too far,” Father Brennan said. “Come here.” When she didn’t move, he added, “Victoria.”

“Aye, Victoria,” Iain echoed. “Come here.”

Undaunted by the stubborn shake of her head, Iain again advanced on her. She retreated several paces, then stopped and cast a glance at the interested onlookers. Iain drew her close. She shoved at his chest, but he lifted her hand and pressed the delicate fingers to his lips.

“Victoria MacPherson. A fine name. What say you, Father?” he asked without looking away from her. “Have we time for a wedding?”

A shadow entered her eyes that startled him. “I will not be trapped into marriage.”

He squeezed her hand. “This is no trap. We must marry without delay.” Determination displaced the fear in her expression, and he added, “Unless you prefer England and your only living relative?”

She stilled and he wondered if he shouldn’t kill the earl, then dare King Henry to venture into the Scottish Highlands in search of him. Being a hunted man would save Victoria from being shackled to him, a man she considered little better than the devil that was now on his way to claim her. What had Hockley done to incite such fear in her?

Her brow furrowed with indecision and all resolve vanished. He couldn’t live without her. Iain pressed the advantage. “Our union cuts all ties with him. Do you understand?”

“Aye.”

Her quick acquiescence didn’t bring the expected jubilation. Instead, when they drew together and Iain accepted the solemn vow to care for her the remainder of his days, Victoria lowered her head so that he couldn’t see her face.

Her gaze remained downcast as she began repeating her vows. “I, Victoria Hockley, take you,

Iain MacPherson, to be my husband—” she faltered.

Dread tightened his gut. What she was hiding? With a finger, Iain tipped her face upward. Their eyes met and a tinge of red colored her cheeks.

Father Brennan leaned forward and gave her an encouraging look. “You must finish before I can name you man and wife.”

She nodded, and Iain released as she said, “In the presence…”

“…of God,” Father Brennan said.

“…of God,” she repeated, “and before these witnesses I promise to be a loving, faithful…”

“…and loyal wife.” Father Brennan nodded.

“…and loyal wife to you, for as long as we both shall live.”

“Dhuitsa, gus an dèan Dia leis a' bhàs ar dealachadh…to you, until God shall separate us by death,” Iain ended. He claimed her lips with his own, gentle, so as to keep his passion in check, then broke the embrace and hugged her to his side as he faced the assembly gathered in the great hall. “My wife.”

Victoria jumped with the loud cheer that resounded in the room, and Iain decided they could both use some of the mead now being passed around. He started for the table when a guard entered the room and whispered something in Thomas’s ear. Thomas motioned to Iain. Iain seated Victoria, then strode to where Thomas stood a few feet away.

“A company of English men-at-arms wait outside the gate,” Thomas informed him.

Iain cursed. “They pushed on ahead.”

“Be glad it was not twenty minutes ago.”

“It would not have mattered,” Iain said. “They would have waited. Send a man out to inquire what they want. I will meet you on the wall momentarily.”

Iain returned to the table where mugs and goblets were already filled for the toasts to follow. The room quieted when a man stood and raised his goblet, saying, “May joy and peace surround you both, contentment latch your door. May happiness be with you now. God bless you evermore.”

Another round of shouts went up, and the women who had jammed into the kitchen doorway during the ceremony surrounded Victoria’s chair. Pleasure rippled through him at sight of his new wife blushing over questions and advice that flowed as easily as the wine.