Standing in front of the Christmas tree, Lachlan’s hands jittered a bit as he watched Christina enter the great hall on the arm of her son. Her face, more radiant than any in all of Stirling, glowed as if she carried a candle in her hands. It made her face shimmer beneath her scarlet veil. He loved her in colors, blue, green, yellow, but today, red was his absolute favorite.
She smiled with warmth and love, and his heart squeezed. No, he hadn’t landed on the battlefield to save Andrew. He hadn’t landed on the battlefield to save Christina, at least not entirely. He’d landed there because it was meant to be—because his destiny lay with a bonny woman who would capture his heart and show him honor and respect on a uniquely deep level that had been lost in the twenty-first century.
Warmth spread throughout his chest while she walked toward him. Her tiny feet tapped the floorboards, her smile unwavering as she greeted him with crystal eyes filled with joy and ever-present mischief. He loved this woman more than life and nothing of this world could ever pull him from her side.
He’d purchased a lead box and placed the medallion inside—a coffin, he called it, and vowed he’d never put its leather thong around his neck again. Ever since their meeting with King Robert, Lachlan had feared something drastic would happen and he’d tumble through time. But when he opened his eyes this morn, there was no question as to his destiny.
As they joined hands, everything in the hall vanished except for Christina. The priest’s voice chanting the Latin marriage vows was barely audible. Lachlan could see nothing but his bride’s silvery-blue eyes and ruby lips revealing healthy, white teeth. To his joy, she’d even allowed a few mahogany ringlets to peek from beneath her delightful Christmas veil.
Together, they sealed the promise of their undying love and when the priest fell silent and blessed them with a sign of the cross, Lachlan wrapped his wife in his arms and kissed her for everyone to see. Their lips joined with an acceleration of heartbeats signifying the start of a new life. With Christina, he was home and he never wanted to let go. Never wanted to be too busy for her. Never wanted her to forget she was the pinnacle of his life and he adored her with every fiber in his body.
In a whirlwind of cheers, they were whisked to the dais to join the royal family.
The Christmas feast arrived with servants carrying trenchers piled high with course after course of richly spiced food. An ornate swan served on a platter as if it were swimming. Slices of venison and beef piled high. Bread with butter and twenty different flavors of conserve. To round out the diet as Lachlan so often preached, they were served with preserved apples, peaches, pickled cabbage and beets. Ale and wine and dessert port arrived with mince pies. Presented with more food than he’d ever seen in his life, they ate and ate until they could swallow not another bite.
All through the feast, Lachlan refused to take his eyes off his bride. In a year, he’d gone from the depths of despair, from self-doubt and self-loathing to the top of the world.
When the tables were pushed aside for the dancing, the minstrels surrounding the entire gallery picked up the volume along with the tempo.
Andrew stood and bowed to Lady Chrissy. “May I have the honor of the first dance?”
Blushing, the lass glanced to her brother and her guardian. When the king gave a nod, she hopped to her feet with an excited grin.
Lachlan slipped his arm around Christina’s shoulders as they watched their son dance with the most important lass in the kingdom. “I think he looks pretty good.”
“Thanks to Aileen’s tutelage, else he’d be tripping over his toes like ye did the first time we danced together.”
He gave her a nudge. “Hey, I caught on pretty well.”
“Aside from the time ye nearly trampled me.”
“Och, must you remind me?”
The king raised his goblet. “I do believe our two offspring look rather fine together.”
Christina arched her brow with a surprised glance to Lachlan. “Indeed, Your Grace.”
“And when will we see the bride and groom take a turn?” King Robert sipped his wine, smiling behind his cup.
Lachlan stood and offered his hand to his wife. “M’lady, would you do me the honor?”
She placed her dainty palm in his. “I shall.”
Together, they joined the circle dance, slow as it may be. Lachlan liked the music and the moderate tempo. So many things about this era called to him—things he never would have imagined. But the most magnetic of all was the lass skipping alongside him. With Christina as his wife, he could tackle anything.
After the music ended, Lachlan kissed her hand. “When would it be appropriate for us to retire?”
She glanced to the dais with a worried cringe. “After the king and queen bid us a Happy Yule.”
“Can’t we slip away unawares?” he asked.
She chewed her bottom lip. “It would be terribly disrespectful of us—the king would be most upset.”
“Perhaps if we go back up to the dais and start yawning?”
She smacked his arm with a chuckle. “Ye are incorrigible.”
“Not at all. I am persistent and I’ll not rest until I get what I want.”
He tugged her hand and pulled her toward the doors. “I will make our apologies in the morning.”
She resisted, sucking in a whistling breath. “It simply isna done.”
“When did I ever follow the rules?” When she gave him a wee pout, he kissed her sassy lips. “Besides, not even a king would deny a bridegroom his bride.”