An hour later the chapel was bursting with swells of Sinclairs and MacPhersons, members of the Maitland and Buchanan clans, and lairds and ladies representing all of the nearby clans. Even those who were feuding set aside old or petty grievances to attend the wedding of a Highland laird. Today they would attend the sacred marriage rite, eat, drink, and dance and tomorrow they will resume as they had left off, bitter enemies once again.
Ramsey stood near the altar, resplendent in a crisp linen shirt and his plaid, the pleats perfectly groomed. He appeared utterly poised, even resigned, though inside he was fuming. Judith had informed them some time ago that Bridgid was ready and everyone had swarmed into the chapel expectantly. As time passed with no sign of her, people were growing restless. No less the groom himself. Where is she?
Brodick and Ian stood next to him. They spoke quietly to each other avoiding Ramsey, whom they alone knew to be restraining his growing anger. They, too, were growing increasingly incensed, though at their own wives for the delay. Michael should have been standing with them, but he had given up long ago and sat whispering to Alec Maitland in the front pew.
Father Laggan was attempting the very picture of propriety. He stood on the small altar stock straight and very somber, though he periodically picked at his vestments and wiped at the sweat dripping down his face. Time was slowly inching by.
Finally the din of those gathered outside seemed to dissipate and a heavy rush of air accompanied the chapel door being opened. Judith and Gillian entered, found their husbands with their eyes and smiled. Then they each stepped to a side of the door.
Ramsey motioned to Michael to return to stand beside Ian and the boy reluctantly did so. Ramsey searched the open doorway for her and then his breath caught in his throat.
Bridgid stood in the doorway; the sun illuminated her long, curly golden hair. It seemed a shroud of mist and light surrounding her. Her dress was simple underneath her plaid and yet it hugged her curves in just the right places and was silhouetted by the light shining in. Ramsey sought her face, but it was hidden deep in shadow. What is her mood?
Bridgid's stepfather had been waiting for her and as a piper began to play, he extended an arm. She looked at him flustered and unsure and Judith nodded at her in reassurance, then began walking down the aisle. When Gillian moved to follow, she peered at Bridgid, imploring her with her eyes to follow immediately after her. When Bridgid finally nodded, Gillian began floating down the aisle.
Finally, all in the chapel stood, their eyes resting solely upon her. Bridgid cracked a weak smile. She tried to recall her girlhood dreams of this day, of Ramsey standing so handsome near the altar waiting for her, smiling at her, loving her. The music continued and her stepfather looked at her, wanting to proceed forward. But, she remained plastered in the entryway of the chapel. She grew increasingly nervous and began shaking. Bridgid sought his face, sought to recreate that smile from her dreams, but it was hidden deep in shadow. What is his mood?
Bridgid stared right through those who were staring at her, a sea of faces melding one into another, no distinction, no recognition, no reassurance.
"Are you ready, my child?"
Startled, Bridgid turned to see her father on her arm, the one man who truly knew her and loved her. Long ago he had given in to his willful daughter and promised that she could marry for love. He was a romantic at heart, just like her. She blinked frantically, trying to clear her mind. Her father was dead.
"'Tis time," he said, smiling at her. She nodded and together they walked down the aisle.
Everyone in the chapel seemed to heave a collective sigh of relief as she made her way to the altar. Rumors had been flying fast and furious of "Ramsey's reluctant bride." Most, it seemed, hung on her every move, waiting for her to do something rash.
She could see Ramsey's face now as she approached him; he smiled warmly and a heady light seemed to infuse him. Without conscious thought, she returned his smile. It seemed the companionable thing to do. And, truly, it was not hard. After all, he was magnificent.
At the altar now, Ramsey moved to take her arm as the priest inquired as to who gives her. She turned to her father and saw instead her mother's new husband once again. He intoned nervously that he did and handed her over to his laird.
Ramsey's grip was strong, filled with purpose, even possession as he held her. She listened to Father Laggan intently, unable to look at Ramsey, dreading the vows to come.
As is often the case when something is dreaded, the time arrived much too soon for her. She faced Ramsey and his hands gripped hers fiercely. True to custom, the priest asked her first if she would take Ramsey as her husband, if she would love, honor, and obey him. But, her silence in response filled the chapel. Again the congregants were leaning forward; Ramsey was holding her in a death grip. She trembled; her throat grew increasingly dry and raw.
Then he chuckled softly. She looked to his face and saw that Ramsey appeared to be in a fine mood. He was not angry with her; he was laughing at her. She furrowed her brow in confusion.
"Father, I know it is hardly customary," Ramsey said with a lilt in his voice, "but I would like to go first. She appears to be nervous. Perhaps my words would ease the way."
Father Laggan nodded, then, and asked Ramsey if he would take her for his wife, if he would love, honor, and cherish her.
"I will," he said loudly and firmly. He continued, before Father Laggan could turn again to Bridgid. "I will be her helpmate, her partner, the father of her children, her dearest friend, and her lover. If only I could know she felt the same."
Bridgid's jaw dropped as she stared at him in open astonishment while all of the ladies within hearing breathed a collective sigh at his romantic declaration. Brodick and Ian, meanwhile, bristled. Ramsey's reputation would, no doubt, suffer after this. The fact that he was their friend would not serve their own reputations either.
When Father Laggan turned again to Bridgid and repeated his questions, she swallowed convulsively. She met Ramsey's eyes and they shown with brilliance and warmth above his breathtaking smile. She shook tremendously as she sought the words.
"I will," she finally uttered in a bare whisper. Ramsey squeezed her hands gently while Father Laggan, who had been succeeding in his façade of passive restraint throughout the ceremony, exhaled dramatically while wiping his brow. The hard part was over.
The remaining ceremony was a blur as a plaid was wrapped around Ramsey and Bridgid's hands and they were blessed. When they were finally announced as man and wife, Ramsey swept Bridgid into his arms and kissed her, no affectations of restraint, in front of their audience. Bridgid's face burned when she finally pulled away from him and they walked down the aisle to cheers and clapping.
Outside the chapel, underneath the newly constructed arch that stood proudly bedecked with flowers, Ramsey announced his bride to his clan.
"Lady Sinclair."
Then he swept her into another heady embrace to more cheers.
The wedding celebrations both inside and outside the keep were raucous affairs. Wine and ale flowed easily. Steaming trenchers and bursting plates lined the tables with fish and venison, rabbit and duck, mixed assortments of bread, cheeses, and sweet meats. The great hall had never looked so grand newly cleaned and dressed in its finery. When musicians began to play, lairds and ladies and smiths and cotters alike put down their goblets and danced. And when the sun fell below the horizon, torches were lit so that the party could continue well into the evening.
Ramsey held onto Bridgid for most of the celebration. First in a receiving line where they accepted the well wishes of their friends and family; then seated at table his arm rested on hers as they talked and laughed and ate and drank with Laird and Lady Buchanan and Laird and Lady Maitland. Ramsey seemed too solicitous of Bridgid and ever watchful of her goblet, signaling for it to be filled and refilled and always making sure that she had something to eat.
For Bridgid, the day seemed to go by in a blur. All of her nerves and emotions, all of the people and celebrations, Ramsey ever-present, his touch always-lingering. At times they collided to warm her all over. She reached for her cheeks and felt them burning. At times she felt faint and sought a bench or a chair. Ramsey was always studying her, attending to her, smiling. She wondered if he thought about the night to come. She certainly did, at times worried, at times excited. Then some new felicitation or joke would distract her.
When finally she found some privacy as she danced with Ramsey, she had to ask what had been on her mind since the ceremony.
"Did you mean it, Ramsey?"
"Mean what, my love?"
He held her so close as they swayed to the music, his large hands caressing her shoulder and waist strangely made her body tingle.
"What you said today with your vows."
"Oh, that. Someone told me to say that. A woman, I think. You know her, I'm quite sure."
"I knew it," she said in frustration, lightly punching his shoulder. "You didn't mean any of it."
"Hmm, let's see. What part did I mean?" He pretended to search his mind for the answer, fighting the smile etched on his face. Bridgid grew increasingly sullen.
"I think, my lady, you would be satisfied to learn that I meant every word."
"Did you, in all truth?"
"In all truth," he vowed with a hand in the air as if pledging to it.
She studied his face, then, smiling in return.
"Would that I could trust you," she said. "Do you now admit to being devious in your vague explanations to the priest thus far?"
His smile, then, became a warm caress brimming in his eyes.
"We did, in fact, sleep together on our return from England. That you felt in no ways compromised was hard for me to confess to the man. After all, you seemed offended at the arrangements night after night. You did, in truth, paint yourself in a less than flattering light as a result of it. I thought merely to allay your concerns on the matter. Marriage, it seemed, was the only option. You are now once again and always right in the eyes of God. I would think my concern for your reputation and care of your soul commendable attributes."
"Certainly, my laird, they are. But, we both know you lied to a man of God—"
"I did not lie," he cut in.
"—to see me as your wife now."
"I admit only to being less than forthcoming with pertinent facts. The priest did not seek further explanation. Thus, I did not supply it. If you would but accompany me to our room," he leaned in whispering, his warm breath and lips wet in her ear, "we could lay these niggling facts and your obvious concerns to rest."
For the briefest moment she did not move, did not want to pull away from him. They barely moved to the music. His hand held the back of her head as he pressed it into his neck. His lips rested near her ear. His other hand was around her waist, pressing her body into his. She felt his nearness hard and unrelenting and knew that as Ramsey offered, they would soon be alone together in his room, in their room, she corrected herself.
When she finally pressed her hands to his chest to create some space between them, she smiled up at him sheepishly and gulped in fresh air, certain that a burning red colored her face. She was thinking what he was thinking and could not bring herself to accept his offer, yet.
So they danced. And, when the song ended they drank some more and talked awhile longer with friends, Ramsey's arm always around her waist, his nearness and his smell burned into her. Then, Gillian begged him to excuse them, pulling her friend behind her.
"Are you nervous," Gillian asked Bridgid as they entered the great hall and climbed the stairs.
"If I said 'no' you would know me to be lying," Bridgid returned.
"You must know what to expect. After all, you have a mother to care for you and to tell you," Gillian hesitated, searching for the right words, "the basics."
"I guess. And, she has."
"Well, then. You are armed with more certain knowledge of the wedding night than I was. You will be well served by that."
"I guess." But, Bridgid was not more forthcoming, a trait Gillian had come to value. She saw true honesty in her trepidations.
"I cannot put into words what you seek," Gillian said. "No one can, not even Ramsey. If you trust him and his touch, it will be okay. In the morning, what you had feared will seem silly, trite."
They stood outside of Ramsey's chamber; the door was ajar.
"Would you like me to come in with you? Do you need any help?"
Bridgid scanned the room and peered back at her friend, eliciting a nervous chuckle.
"No. I think I can handle it from here," Bridgid assured her in less than certain terms. "You go along; find your husband. Thank you for all of your help today. I would not have made it to the chapel without you and Judith."
"'Tis a certainty, that. And, don't you forget it when you are blissfully happy in your married state. 'Twould not be a hardship whatsoever to remind you of it at every turn."
With that, Gillian hugged Bridgid to her fiercely and kissed her cheek. "Go on, now." She pushed Bridgid into the grand chamber. "He'll be along shortly."