Thorn in My Heart (41 page)

Around her, neighbors linked arms and serenaded her with the usual wedding fare: “There Cam a Young Man,” and “I Hae a Wife o’ My Ain.” When they begged her to sing “I Gotten the Laddie That I Like Sair,” she politely refused. “He is not my laddie, and you ken it well.” Nor would wishing make it so.

“Leana!” Jessie Newall rushed up to join her, her eyes bright with Hogmanay cheer. “Aren't you the bonny bride?”

“Proxy bride,” Leana reminded her, but Jessie only laughed and drew closer, chasing off the shepherds who served as her escorts.

“I've seen Jamie,” her friend announced, her hoarse whisper none too soft. “Is he not a fine sight to behold?”

“Aye, he is that.” Leana could hardly argue with so obvious a fact, having seen him earlier. His velvet coat and waistcoat were the same color as her gown, only darker, the perfect contrast to the brilliant white of his waddin sark and the cool green of his eyes. “ ‘Twill be a shame if my sister does not see her own bridegroom looking so braw.”

“Och! That's not what I'm thinking.” Jessie tugged on the kell, pulling Leana's head down a little. Her friend winked like a free trader with a saddlebag full of smuggled goods in search of a buyer. “I'm thinking Jamie McKie looks very pleased for a man whose bride is miles away in Twyneholm.”

“Jessie!” Leana rolled her eyes and straightened. “You must not say such things.”

“And why not, when they're true? He cares for you, Leana. He will make this day special for you.”

Leana stared down at her, aghast. “Do you mean…? Did he say…?” She could not put words to her thoughts, they were so scandalous.

Jessie only laughed. “I'm a married woman, and I know longing on a woman's face when I see it.”

Leana started to argue, but her friend prevailed. “Make the most of this day, for as long as it lasts. Above all, listen with your heart when Jamie speaks his vows to you.”

“To
Rose
, you mean.”

“Aye.” Jessie flapped her hand as though she were brushing away midges. “But you'll be the one hearing those vows. And the one saying them.”

Even so I take him before God.

By the time the bridal party straggled through Newabbey village and up to the kirk door, after handing out bridal favors to every passerby, the gray sky had faded to black. No stars pierced through the night's thick canopy. Nor was the waning moon anywhere to be found. Those who'd brought lanterns held them aloft, guiding everyone through the narrow doors and into the hallowed sanctuary. Even the most boisterous lowered their voices, intimidated by the pews that spoke of the Sabbath and all things holy.

Reverend Gordon, none too pleased with the late hour, greeted them with naught but a solemn nod. “Its not even five o'clock,” Duncan grumbled under his breath. “Must be eager for his supper and a warm bed.”

Either that or the minister disapproved of the proxy marriage. They would learn his opinion shortly. Handing her cape and gloves to Neda for safekeeping, Leana followed Duncan to the bride stool, the pew set aside especially for weddings. She took her place before it, praying her knees would hold her. The sanctuary was icy cold and dark as a tomb, despite the roaring wood fire and the smattering of lanterns around the room.

“I'll be back with the bridegroom,” Duncan promised, then left her shivering by the minister's side while the guests josded for the best seats.

“Most irregular,” Reverend Gordon murmured, looking over her shoulder. “I haven't performed a proxy wedding in twenty years, Miss McBride.”

She nodded, not knowing what response might be appropriate. As their guests continued to whisper among themselves, Leana turned to
find one man still standing in the back of the kirk.
Jamie.
Her breath caught. Though she'd seen him earlier by the bright light of day, in the glow of the flickering candlelight he was a braw sight indeed.

Jamie walked toward her, his eyes wide, almost as if he were surprised to find her waiting for him. “Leana,” he said softly, taking her hands in his, “thank you for doing this.”

“It is my pleasure.” She dipped her knee in a gende curtsy. “My pleasure to be of service, that is.” When she straightened, he continued to gaze at her, squeezing her hands more tighdy. “What is it, Jamie? Have you…changed your mind?”

“Nae, I…I'm quite convinced were doing the right thing.” His gaze swept down to her slippers and up to the cambric kell covering her hair. “I never expected…that is…”

“Oh.” She wet her lips, wondering if they could be trusted to form words, let alone vows.

Jamie's gaze rested on hers. “The kell looks lovely.”

Only the kell

He stepped back and held her arms out to get a better look. “I'm only sorry Rose isn't here to see you wearing it.” He bit his lip, as though regretting his words. “I know this day has been awkward for you, Leana. For me as well. Shall we make the best of it? For Rose's sake and yours?”

She smiled and spoke the truth: “I want nothing more than to make you happy, Jamie.”

His eyes shone like jade in the firelight. “You are a finer woman than any man deserves, Leana McBride. I hope you will stand in this kirk again soon with a worthy bridegroom by your side.”

She swallowed her pride, leaving only the taste of hope on her lips. “Might I pretend that worthy man is you?”

His brow creased with concern. “Leana, I…”

“Just for this hour, I mean?” Her eyes were beggars.
Please, Jamie.

“So be it, lass.” His smile turned winter into spring. “For this hour, on this night, you will be my bride and I your bridegroom. Like a stage play, with us as the actors, playing our assigned roles.” He touched his forehead against hers, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. The whisky on
his breath was stronger than before. “By the time the curtain falls, our audience will be thoroughly persuaded we re well wed. Are we agreed, Leana?”

“We are.”
Oh, Jamie! She
would agree to anything, anything at all, if it kept him by her side. “Shall we begin then?”

“We shall.” With a gallant movement, he released one of her hands, then placed the other against his arm, now tucked across his chest in formal fashion. “Reverend Gordon, we are yours to command.”

Quieting the congregation with a sternly arched brow, the minister drew himself up, his chin pushed out as though daring anyone to question his authority. “We are gathered here on this most solemn occasion to join James Lachlan McKie of Glentrool and Rose McBride of Auchengray in holy matrimony. The bride's sister, Leana McBride, will serve as proxy and speak on Rose's behalf. Stand for a reading from the Book of Common Order.”

The gathering stood as one and dutifully listened to the words penned by John Knox two centuries earlier. Leana leaned on Jamie's arm, glad to have his strength so near at hand. When the minister wasn't paying attention, Jamie glanced over at her, offering a wink of assurance or a slight smile. She barely noticed the chilly room, so thoroughly did she bask in the warmth of his attention.

“Now then.” The minister closed his book, holding it shut before him, one hand pressed on either side. “Is there any impediment to this marriage? Any reason why the two of you should not be joined together as husband and wife?”

None whatsoever.
Leanas lips remained sealed in a gentle smile, even as her heart cried out to be heard.
Please, Jamie!
Behind her, she detected furtive whispers and sensed curious stares pressing against her back.

“None,” Jamie stated, loudly enough that all might hear and be silenced.

Reverend Gordon stepped aside to address the congregation and posed the same question. “Is there any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony?”

“None,” came the immediate reply. Lachlan McBride had answered for all of them.

“We will proceed then.” The minister nodded at Jamie, who produced a simple silver ring. He slid the narrow band onto her left hand, only to the knuckle, holding it there while her hand trembled at his touch, awaiting the ministers next words.

“Do you, James Lachlan McKie, take this woman, Rose McBride, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Jamie glanced at Leana, if only for a moment, before his voice rang out with sincerity. “Even so, I take her before God and in the presence of his congregation.”

The minister turned to Leana, his brow stern. “And do you, Rose McBride, take this man, James Lachlan McKie, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Never had Leana spoken with more conviction. “Even so, I take him before God and in the presence of his congregation.”

The minister intoned, “Give diligent ear then to the Gospel that ye may understand how our Lord would have this holy contract kept and observed and how sure and fast a knot it is, which in no wise should be loosed.”

She held her breath as he read, not pressing the ring in place until he finished. How easily the marriage knot was tied! And how difficult it would be to unravel her heart from its knotted threads.

“For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife: and they twain shall be one flesh.”

One flesh.
Her dream could not extend so far. This moment, this holy hour, would be enough.
Mtist
be enough, unless Jamie deemed otherwise.

“What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.”

“Hear, hear,” a besotted voice added from the congregation, followed by subdued laughter.

Ignoring the outburst, Reverend Gordon held his hand over the couple and pronounced his blessing: “The Lord sanctify and bless you;
the Lord pour the riches of his grace upon you, that ye may please him and live together in holy love to your lives’ end. So be it.”

So be it.

Leana closed her eyes. Praying, wishing, hoping, begging she knew not what. There remained the possibility, slender though it was, that Rose had chosen to stay away. And that Jamie would choose the older instead of the younger. Willingly. Joyfully.

The congregation sang loudly, without regard for key or pitch, the traditional wedding psalm:

Thy wife shall be a fruitful vine By thy house sides be found Thy children like to olive plants About thy table round.

Jamie bent down to press his mouth against the curve of her ear. “Cousin, you look more like a fragrant flower than a fruitful vine,” he whispered, pretending not to see Reverend Gordons pointed stare. “I do wish you many children, lass. May your house be filled with them someday. And lucky is the man who will sire them.”

She hid her warm cheeks behind the lacy kell, barely listening as the minister offered a closing prayer. The play was nearly ended; the curtain soon would fall. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed. They'd spoken vows to each other, vows they were bound by a holy God to keep. Did the spoken name matter when her intentions were pure?

Not pure, Leana.
Nae, not entirely so. She'd let her thoughts wander far beyond convention's gate.
Forgive me, Lord.

“Amen,” Reverend Gordon said, and it was finished.

Awash in emotions, she held tight to Jamie's hand and followed him down the aisle, past the smiling faces and teary smiles, out the kirk door, and into the freezing night. Reverend Gordon led the way, then turned to her, his face as dour as ever. “Well done, Miss McBride. Or should I say, Mistress McKie?”

“You should…kiss me, Reverend Gordon” she stammered.

“Aye, right you are. That's the custom.” The minister leaned forward,
pressed his dry lips against hers for only an instant, then stepped back. “The best of luck to you, Mr. McKie.” He turned to Duncan with an expectant air and was duly paid for his services from the overseer's leather pouch.

Leana remembered her hostess duties and inquired, “Will we be seeing you at Auchengray for the bridal feast?”

“Nae, Im afraid Mistress Gordon has already cooked up our supper, a steak and kidney pie for Hogmanay. Forgive me for missing the festivities.” His brow darkened. “See that things dont become, shall we say,
unseemly
, as wedding celebrations are inclined to do.”

“Not this one, Reverend.” Jamie slipped his hand behind Leanas waist, barely touching her gown. “Not when good Leana, the kindest and best among us, is the reigning bride.” He looked over her head toward Duncan. “Come, let us shower the village children with coins, then hasten home before moonrise. ‘Tis ill weather for a jolly occasion.”

The minister looked askance. “Aren't you going to kiss your bride? Proxy or not, its most unlucky for her next kiss not to be yours.”

“Unlucky?” Jamie gazed down at her. “Is it really?”

“Aye, very unlucky.” She made certain her voice did not give away her anticipation, but her thoughts brought a flush to her cheeks.

When Jamie turned and drew her near, the warmth of him traveled from her kell to her toes. He cupped her face in his hands and brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. “May I kiss you, Leana?”

She let him see her heart in her eyes and whispered the truth. “I wish you would.”

“Then I will.” His mouth moved toward hers.

Drink, my jolly lads, drink with discerning;
Wedlocks a lane where there is no turning.

D
INAH
M
ARIA
M
ULOCK
C
RAIK

S
he tasted like butterscotch. Warm, sugary, fresh from the pot. Leana was truly kissing him. Not an actress playing a part. A bride kissing her bridegroom. Responding instinctively, Jamie leaned closer, tilting her head back, molding his lips to fit hers, tasting her again.
Sweet.

“Enough, lad, or you'll be drunk.” Rab Murray, the young shepherd, tugged on Jamie's shoulder, easing the two of them apart as their wedding guests spilled out of the kirk and gathered round to watch.

Jamie released his hold on Leana, already ashamed of himself. Whatever was he thinking? “Forgive me,” he whispered, low enough that only she would hear it. He stepped back slowly, making certain Leana would not faint, for she looked very much as if she might. She swayed a bit, her face still turned upward, then her eyes opened—reluctandy, Jamie thought—and gazed steadily at him. If she heard the ribald laughter, she did not acknowledge it or look away, not for a moment.