Tucking my cloak tight about me, I slipped out of my room as the clock chimed one in the morning. I checked only once to confirm that the hallway was deserted. Not only had Walther planned his wedding for this most unholy hour, but Alex's earlier comment was truthful. No one paid any lingering attention to the daughter of Stormway. What had convinced me that I was so watched?
The only sounds in the castle were the low crackle of flames, the murmur of voices behind closed doors, and the lonely howl of wind. My skirts rustled with a surprising clatter. I felt like some urchin of the night, some mistress of mist and secrecy. Powdered and dressed in one of my finest gowns, I had wanted to look my best for the occasion. Secret or not, a wedding was still a wedding.
My brothers and Alex were all waiting outside the main gate. From the giddy sounds of their whispers on the wind, they were drunk — or close enough to it — and in a bawdy mood.
"Are we waiting for Bess?" I whispered as I joined them, scanning the group and seeing her missing.
"And have the groom see his bride before the ceremony! I think not! Even you must bow before some tradition, Buggy," Rupert said, his wide eyes glassy in the moonlight.
"We're tempting bad enough fortune if we do not arrive on time. Come on, it is freezing out here. At least the kirk will be warm." Robert complained, stamping his feet against the ground.
"Aye," Timothy said, tucking a silver flask into his coat pocket. "And make sure to hide your libations before we enter the house of god, gentlemen...and Eilean."
"The priest might be fine with a clandestine wedding, but he draws the line at drinking in the pews." John winked at me and passed me a flask. "I didn't think you'd have one of your own."
I took it, speechless, and slipped it into my pocket. The gaggle of us set off, striding through the moonlight-gilded grass, making up a much larger and more festive wedding party than I had anticipated.
Alex fell in line beside me, his hands shoved into his pockets, his head tossed back in casual grace. "You look nice," he offered.
"You can't see me in the dark," I said, grateful for the cover of night as I warmed at the compliment.
"Quite the contrary, the moon makes you glow with radiance. You could be the fairy queen herself!" He teased.
I laughed and shoved him, "Behave yourself."
Alex did no such thing. Regaining his footing, he nuzzled up close to me, pressing his nose to the side of my face. It was a cumbersome way to walk, but I was resolved to keep going. He looped an arm around my shoulders. His body was warm and pliant against my own. Only second-guessing myself for half a second, I wound my arm around his waist. It was nice, if surprising, to be so cuddled up.
"You are beautiful in every light, Eilean," he said tenderly, pressing a sloppy kiss to my cheek.
I thought my heart would stop. At the very least, it seemed to have dropped somewhere low in my gut. Then, I caught the whiff of whiskey on Alex's breath and rolled my eyes. "You're drunk."
"You could be too, you know." He suggested, running his hand from my shoulder, down my arm, along my waist, before patting the pocket on my hip.
The flask knocked against my leg. "And then what?"
"You might repay my compliment."
With a dry laugh, I reached for the container and took a long drink. The liquor burned my throat, but I didn't wince. Instead, I enjoyed the bloom of aromas that bounced off my tongue.
"Atta girl," Alex said, his eyes gleaming.
"Lord Leslie, do you dare get my sister drunk, sir?" Rupert asked, having seen the tail end of our exchange. He whirled around, his coattails flying.
"No, Lord MacLeod, she is the one intoxicating me."
A few of my brothers hooted, the others laughed.
Robert passed us, snickering. There was light enough to see his obnoxiously overwrought wink.
"You may be Lord of the Fist, but I will duel you if I have to," Rupert said, his laugh a loud cackle. "Even if it is my brother's wedding day."
"Do you suppose the priest will finish before the sun rises? He's notoriously long-winded," John complained. "We can't all be missing at breakfast."
"No, I paid him to be quick about the business," Ian said matter-of-fact.
"Thank god for Ian," Timothy grunted.
We soon arrived at the small stone church and let ourselves in. It had been superbly decorated with hundreds of white candles, sprigs of wildflowers, and garlands made from fresh, blooming branches. It was like being in a fairyland, and I said as much as I removed my cloak.
"Great, Bug Eyes is drunk," Timothy carped even as he took my mantle and threw it over his forearm.
"I am not," I fired back. "MacLeods don't get drunk," I repeated the oft-quoted boast I had heard them shouting my entire life. "Or have you all been lying?"
"Damn right we don't," Rupert said, grinning wickedly as he clanked his flask against mine.
None of us had remembered to hide our booze.
Walther smoothed his tunic and shot us all nervous glowers, "Can you lot behave?"
"Butterflies, brother?" John asked.
"The only thing I'm worried about is if we'll make it through the night without you idiots making fools of yourselves."
We tittered at his concern but shuffled and cleared our throats, standing at attention. Ready to be on our best behavior.
"Go," Ian murmured, resting his hand on Walther's shoulder. "We will see you at the altar."
Walther nodded and walked down the center aisle of the church, then slipped through a side door. My brothers, Alex, and I ambled down to the altar, taking our places in a semi-circle around the stone chantry. By accident or design, Alex was on the opposite side of the arc from me, the large stone kneeling bench between us. The altar was covered in cascading flowers. Long, white tapers dripped wax onto the gentle petals. The warmth of the candles made the air smell like a garden at midday, and I couldn't tell if I was tipsy from the drink or the beauty of the moment.
Bathed in candlelight, it was clear I was not the only one who had dressed up. My brothers wore their best coats and breeches. Their hair was slicked back and tied with silk ribbons. Even their shoes were polished, the buckles glinted in the flickering flames. Alex wore a silk brocade jacket in a blue so bright it made his eyes seem deeper than the ocean. He did, indeed, look very handsome. My breathing hitched a bit as I took him in. Maybe I'd find the courage to repay that compliment after all.
We soon settled and waited quietly; a hush of anticipation fell over us. After a few minutes, the priest poked his head through the side door, saw us assembled, and led Bess and Walther to the center of our gathering.
The bride was beautiful in her rich berry-colored gown. Her radiant hair was adorned with a circlet of bright flowers. Either by happiness or candlelight, Bess seemed to glow. Both bride and groom seemed shy. They smiled at each other as if they were truly seeing one other for the first time. There was no mistaking the brightness in their eyes or the slight flush of sweet pink color on their cheeks. Walther and Bess clasped hands and knelt at the altar as the priest began to recite the vows.
I had never been one to pay attention to the priest's sermons, but the wedding vows caught me off guard with their beauty. The words were charming, layering promises of devotion and fidelity with assurances of independence. Husband and wife were joined by collective responsibility for themselves and each other.
You are the star of my night, the sun of my morning.
You cannot possess me, for I am my own creature.
While we both desire it, I give you all the parts of me that I can share.
We are free, yet while twined together, I will serve you in the ways that you desire — so long as those desires are pure and honest.
I promise your name will be the first on my lips, your eyes, the ones I seek in the morning.
I am a shield for your back, your heart, your soul — as you are mine.
I will not vilify you, nor you me.
I honor you above all others and celebrate you with my respect in all matters.
This is my vow to you.
This is the vow of equals.
Too often, throughout the rest of the ceremony, my mind wandered. I scolded myself for not paying attention, but I could not help myself. Situated as he was across from me, it was Alex that won my focus, my study. The light of the candles gilded him. In every regard, he was the picture of a prince from a children's book of stories. The glowing flames danced across the contrasting amber and corn silk strands of his hair, sharpened the cut and crease of his cheeks and jaws. He grew taller and broader in the semi-darkness. A towering paragon of strength and speed and — softness. Intense, kind, willingly given gentleness. The few times he caught my eye I looked away; ashamed of my staring, but unclear why I should feel so guilty. Certainly I had the right to look at my friend?
By the time the priest announced the final "amen", I was confident there wasn't a feature or detail about Alex I had not committed to memory.
By the end of the ceremony, I was utterly certain I would never allow myself to be Stood for. The only union I would accept was one built on a bedrock of love, respect, and openness — even if the wedding had to be secret as Walther's was. I could not endure the thought of throwing self and soul away for the meager inheritance of territory or wealth or influence. Tears welled in my ears, blurring the light. My chin trembled.
"You know," Robert whispered, leaning over to me, "you don't need a priest to get what you want."
I felt a flush of warmth and fanned myself with my hand at his obvious suggestion. Dragging my eyes away from Alex, I looked at my brother, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"
"You are a MacLeod. Take what you want." Robert looked knowingly at Alex.
"You mean — "
"He's going to marry you anyway, isn't that what you always told me? That you'd outrank us all in title and influence? Go make it happen." With a brazen wink, Robert walked off to clap Walther on the back. He offered Bess a congratulatory hug.
I felt as if my skin was a live spark. Alex looked up, his eyes meeting mine over the alter. In a daze, I walked toward him, ignoring the smiling newlyweds.
"That was lovely," Alex said, taking the hand I didn't remember reaching out to him. He pulled me close to him, tracing the shell of my ear with his nose.
"It-it was," I stuttered. Looking up at him, I watched as his eyes trailed down from my own and stared at my lips.
"I almost feel bad for putting all those frogs into their bed," Alex said, dragging his eyes back up again. His voice was thick.
A breathy laugh shuddered out of me, I was far too dazed to offer any intelligent response.
Alex grinned wolfishly, delighting in my stupor. "And here I thought after all that gawking during the ceremony you were coming over to return my compliments. I've given you so many, Eilean. How you wound me."
I laughed for real that time. "Yes, yes, you're very handsome. I can't keep my eyes off of you." I tried to inject as much frivolity into my voice as possible.
"Apparently," he smirked, kissing me on the temple.
I nearly fainted. My knees wobbled.
"Come on, let's go celebrate the happy couple." Alex pulled me back into the fray.
It was a very long, tense walk back to the castle. But I did not mind it in the slightest.