Elusive (25 page)

“Are your plans the only ones that are
important, Alex? Are you the only one whose future is about to
change? You will head back to France; take up where you left off
before this journey of ours began. I will be left here alone with a
broken heart! Don’t you know how much I love you? Are you so
self-centered that you have no concern for me and the loss you
leave behind you?”

As the stir spread around the dining room, he
was certain the whole village would know by morning that the wee
lassie with the pale hair had ripped into the Laird once again. My,
she was a beautiful sight when she was in full temper.

He was so humbled by her declaration of love,
and yes, as any man would be, he was so unnerved by the tears
streaming down her face, that he was unable to speak for a moment.
Then he rose from the table, went to her, and knelt beside her
chair.

“Blair, do you really not know how very much
I love you? If all my discomfort and fumbling the last few months
have not shown you, I must admit to being a miserable failure. Je
t’aime. Je t’aime, petit ami. Marry me, Blair, and I swear I will
spend the rest of my life showing you how much I adore you. Just
tell me what you need, and I will give it to you. I have no need to
do more than travel to France occasionally for business, but here
is my heart, here in Scotland with you.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. “Oh, Alex, all
I need is you. You are all I have ever wanted or needed. Yes, I
will marry you.”

“We will have the biggest wedding the village
has ever seen,” he smiled up at her.

“Alex,” she whispered, now recognizing that
every face in the restaurant was watching them, “can we afford that
big a wedding?”

He laughed that deep, hardy laugh she loved.
She still hadn’t come to grips with her own wealth—let alone his!
Rising to bend over her and whisper in her ear, “My darling Blair,
we can afford to invite the whole damned country if that’s what you
want.”

“Oh!” She gasped. “I don’t think it has to be
quite
that
big, do you?”

“It will be exactly what you want, Chéri!” he
promised, as he pulled her into a kiss that left her knees weak and
trembling.

Then he pulled her to the door. “Alex, where
are we going?”

“To get you a ring, my love. I’ll not let you
back out on me now!”

“But, Alex, the shops are all closed. It’s
late,” she laughed.

“I have just the thing in mind, my love. It’s
in Paris,” he said, still dragging her along with him,

“Paris? Oh, Alex! We can’t go to Paris
tonight…can we?” she asked.

“Darling, you must get used to the idea that
we can do whatever your heart desires. Now, get into the car…we’re
off to Edinburgh to catch the next ship to Paris where I will buy
you the biggest, best diamond any woman has ever had.”

She faced him, put her hand on his cheek,
“Alex,
you
must get used to the idea that you are all I
need!” Then looking down at her empty ring finger, she added,
giggling, “Not that I mind the idea of a beautiful ring.”

“God, I love you, Blair,” he said, as he
pulled her to him for another of those kisses that melted her bones
and left her weak. “Now, get into the car, my love. I’m taking you
to Paris.”

Inside the restaurant, the crowd erupted in
cat calls and applause. They would all go home tonight to share the
tale of the Laird and the Lady—their Laird—their Lady. There was to
be a wedding!

**************************

Chapter 32: The Wedding

Donnach Castle – December 21, 1913

Preparation for the ceremony had included all
the normal things that European brides and grooms considered
traditional; the many-tiered wedding cake, twelve huge rings in
all, with the bride and groom topping it; the garter sitting
snuggly waiting for Alex to remove it; something old, new,
borrowed, blue.

It also had all the Scottish twists, some
modern, some from Caena’s time added in. Blair and Alex had decided
that their wedding was going to be as much a celebration of the
love shared by Caena and Sòlas as it was of their own. In that
vein, they had decided to go with all the ancient bridal traditions
for their wedding costumes. It would take time but would be worth
it to both of them. Had it not been for Caena and Sòlas, Blair
would never have existed.

The wedding date had been set for December
21
^st
, Alban Arthuan, the Celtic winter solstice
festival, now blended into the Yule celebration held at
Christmastime. The ceremony would be held in the Great Hall of the
castle, the reception would spread from the Great Hall throughout
the lower level of the castle with the entire village invited to
join them. These were their people, and Blair and Alexandre wanted
to share the celebration of their marriage with all of them.

Woolens for the fabrics used in their wedding
clothes were, in the ancient tradition, fashioned from wool sheared
from the estate’s own sheep. Since the marriage was so important to
the entire community, there had been a great celebration made of
the shearing. Blair and Alex both took turns helping with the
shearing, with laughter and great shouts of encouragement from the
villagers.

The village had come together for the event
and followed it with a picnic attended by everyone for miles
around. Blair and Alex had been toasted by their people. The love
given them had been accepted and returned.

Children had given Blair flowers picked from
their own gardens and fields. The women shared songs of the past in
a mutual celebration of their forefathers. There had been folk
dancing and drinking of good Scotch whiskey well into the night, as
bonfires lit the countryside.

Over the next few months, the local women had
spun the wool into yarn, some of which was dyed in the colors of
the McDonnough tartan; some left white for Blair’s earasaid. The
dried wool was then lovingly woven, by the most experienced weavers
in the village, into the cloth for the bride and groom’s wedding
clothes.

This shearing and weaving process alone had
taken almost a year to accomplish. The earasaid, kilts, scarves,
and Alex’s balmoral were completed a mere two weeks before the
ceremony.

Alex wore a tribute to their modern Scottish
tradition. He would wear the modern kilt of their clan tartan.
There was great pride in their tartan, since the number of colors
in a clan’s tartan had always signified the wealth and power of the
clan. Theirs, with its sapphire blue and emerald green blocks,
lined by red, black, and white stripes that formed the plaid, was a
powerful tartan. Indeed, it was very similar to the national
tartan.

Blair’s outfit was a tribute to Caena, as
well as her French upbringing. She would wear a version of the
ancient earasaid, the female version of the man’s g
reat
kilt
. Finely woven, soft white wool would be used for the
earasaid—the head-to-foot cloak belted at the waist. She would wear
a floor-length chemise of white silk with French lace at her
wrists. The silk chemise was an exception to what would have been
worn by Caena whose own chemise would have been from homespun
cloth.

On their special day, Blair’s pale, pale
blonde hair, now reaching her waist in length, was parted down the
middle. It was then separated into three sections of long locks,
one falling loosely at each shoulder, one down her back. Each
section was then tied at shoulder length with a ribbon of the same
blue as that found in their tartan. From the ribbons to their ends,
each section fell in gentle curls. Then around her head, like a
ribbon crown, was a matching piece of the ribbon fastened over her
left ear with a pin shaped like heather. She had given the pin to
Esmée for her birthday—now it was Blair’s something-borrowed.

In tradition, the earasaid’s extra length
would not be raised to cover her head since she was an unmarried
woman. Her hood was pinned to her long-sleeved chemise, with an
eternity knot pin that Alex’s mother had given her, and left draped
in soft folds over her back. The pin had been a gift to Mairi from
her Charles when they married—Blair’s something-old.

The earasaid was belted with soft leather and
a chain of gold eternity knots made by the same French jeweler who
had made their rings. Under her chemise, next to her heart, she
wore the necklace given to her by Alex. It bore the same eternity
knot design—her something-new.

The bouquet she carried was a simple clump of
lavender and thistle tied in the same blue ribbon as used in her
hair—her something-blue.

Her wedding hosiery was white and rose from
her soft black leather slippers, similar to Alex’s ghillie brogues,
to her mid-calf where her right stocking was topped with a
garter.

Standing in front of the mirror, she saw what
she imagined Caena would have looked like, had she been a happy
bride, marrying her Sòlas. She closed her eyes and quietly spoke to
Caena. “I hope you are with us today and know that you and your
beloved Sòlas are honored.”

Mairi watched her in the long mirror, smiled,
and let go a deep sigh. “Blair, you are so beautiful. You make me
think of her—Caena. I just know that somehow she is watching and is
so very pleased today.”

“I hope so, Mairi. I do hope so.”

***

While Alex’s mother was helping Blair dress
in her rooms, Alex was pacing back and forth in the master suite.
The main room was large enough that the huge canopied four-poster
bed, across from the large marble fireplace, was dwarfed by it.
There was a large seating area, a table where he and Blair often
ate breakfast together. Mirrors caught the light from the nearly
floor-to-ceiling windows. Blair had told him that this room was
larger than her whole Paris apartment had been.

The bathroom was enormous and held a huge
claw-footed tub especially made for his grandfather. The tub was so
deep they had nearly drowned trying to make love in it one night.
He laughed out loud remembering how they had had to give up and
wound up on the marble floor, sliding around the wet surface like
seals. He’d never made love laughing before that night. Before
Blair, he hadn’t known it was possible. He hadn’t known any of what
he felt now was possible for him.

He smiled, thinking of the hours they had
spent together planning the changes in this suite. Now it was
completely redecorated to his and Blair’s taste, without the dammed
gargoyles, except, he laughed to himself, for the one Mairi had
given Blair. He had loved his father, but his fascination with
those damned things had always been over the top, as far as Alex
was concerned. A moment of sadness swallowed him as he wished his
father could be here today—gargoyles and all.

Angus burst into the suite carrying two
flutes of champagne. “Come now, my boy, what’s that sadness I see
on your handsome face? This is your wedding day! Let’s see a smile,
lad!”

Taking the flute, Alex smiled at the jolly
man dressed in formal Scottish attire. Angus had been the best
substitute for his father that he could possibly imagine. “No,
Angus, I’m not sad. I was just thinking of my father. He would have
loved Blair. It’s too bad they never had any time together.”

“Aye, it is that, laddie. But Blair and your
mother could not possibly be closer. That must do!” Angus slapped
him on the shoulder, and Alex let the mood slip away.

“Well, Angus. Do you think she’ll have me?”
he said, standing in front of the cheval mirror that matched the
dark wood of the other furniture in their suite.

“Aye, lad. You are a picture of the old
clansmen, short of the beard, of course. You do your heritage
proud.” Looking at the lad in the mirror, he didn’t think he had
ever seen a more handsome young lad.

“I just could not handle the beard,” Alex
laughed. “Though I tried it briefly—very briefly! Blair was glad to
see it go as well.”

Angus inserted Alex’s sapphire-studded links
of gold shaped thistle. Alex stood proudly in his tartan kilt, the
formal kilt shirt with its winged collar and French cuffs, and,
Blair’s favorite, his horsehair sporran—complete with its black
tassels—rode in front of his maleness. He smiled at the memory of
the first time Blair had seen him wearing this sporran.

The thistle-patterned plaid-brooch Blair had
given him as a wedding gift, sat on this left waist near the
leather belt holding together the hand pleated, wrapped kilt. His
white hosiery, with the blue flashes rose from the shining, black
leather ghillie brogues. Ghillie laces, with their black tassels,
ran up to mid-calf. Alex fastened his hand-carved, Makassar ebony
dirk on his hip, after which Angus helped him into his Prince
Charlie jacket.

“Do you have the rings, Angus?” Alex asked,
as he donned his tartan-patterned Balmoral with its jaunty tilt and
blue feather pin atop his sleek black hair, which was now long
enough to be tied back in a ribbon of his tartan’s blue.

“Yes, lad, I have them.” He opened the box to
assure they were both still in it. There they were. Two matching
gold bands carved with the Celtic eternity knots all the way
around.

“Do you think she’ll be happy with me,
Angus?” One brief moment of panic struck him. Was Blair going to be
happy with him for the rest of her life? He was, after all, just a
man, and he had his faults.

“Oh laddie, I dinna think the lassie could
hae done better,” Angus responded in full Scottish brogue.

They laughed together for just a moment, Alex
poured the rest of the champagne down in one big gulp, and they
headed to the Great Hall.

***

Esmée was a vision in her sapphire blue gown
of silk with its sash of emerald green. Her long, sable-colored
hair flowed down her back. A crown of heather woven around a blue
ribbon perched prettily on top of her head, the streamers of the
ribbon trailed down her back. Her green eyes shone with tears of
happiness for her friend. As she walked down the aisle toward Alex,
on Bill Campbell’s arm, she saw Madame with her French lace
handkerchief wiping away a steady stream of tears that had started
early this morning. Mairi McDonnough sat on the groom’s side doing
the same.