room to her father and took his proffered arm. “I canna believe all of my coven sisters are here! I never even dreamed of hopin’ for such a thing.”
Her father began to direct her toward their ballroom, and he sighed. “They all love ye, lass. And who can blame them? As soon as Cait ordered everyone home and explained why, they came in droves.”
Upon entering the ballroom, Sorcha scanned the throng of people. Cait and Rhiannon’s fathers stood together, talking to Rhi’s silly sister, Ginny, and her new husband.
Lord Radbourne and his twin brothers nodded their welcome in her direction. Blaire’s two brothers each had linked arms with her new sister-in-law. All of MacQuarrie House seemed to be present, as did every neighbor and friend Sorcha or Alec had ever possessed. “Havers!” she muttered under her breath.
“Indeed,” her father agreed. “If ye were less loved, we could have performed the ceremony in yer mother’s salon.”
Then Sorcha spotted Alec at the far end of the ballroom beside a large window, talking with the bald-pated vicar, Mr. Crawford. Alec looked across the room at her, his dark, penetrating eyes so focused that Sorcha almost missed a step. Her heart pounded so hard that she thought for certain it would leap right from her chest.
“Careful, love,” her father whispered as he led her through the guests and to Alec’s side.
Once she reached him, she realized he had the silliest collection of apple blossoms tucked into his lapel. She couldn’t help but laugh. “What are ye doin’ with those?”
Alec shrugged. “Found them in a magical orangery and couldn’t help but take a few.”
Sorcha’s father placed her hand on Alec’s arm and then nodded for Mr. Crawford to begin the ceremony. “We are ready.”
The vicar looked from Alec to Sorcha and back and repeated the old Scottish blessing, “Slainte mhor agus a h-uile beannachd duibh.” Then he nodded at Alec. “Repeat after me, sir. ‘Before God and these witnesses, I, Alec Lachlan Colin MacQuarrie, take ye, Sorcha Ivy Ferguson, ta be my wife, ta have and ta hold ’til death do us part.’”
Alec squeezed Sorcha’s hand. “Before God and these witnesses, I, Alec Lachlan Colin MacQuarrie, take you, Sorcha Ivy Ferguson, to be my wife, to have and to hold ’til… death do us part.”
Sorcha swallowed, wishing he hadn’t paused on that last bit. But death would part them, wouldn’t it?
“And now ye, Miss Ferguson. Repeat after me—‘Before God and these witnesses, I, Sorcha Ivy Ferguson, take ye, Alec Lachlan Colin MacQuarrie, ta be my husband, ta have and ta hold ’til death do us part.’”
Sorcha stared up into Alec’s dark eyes. “Before God and these witnesses, I, Sorcha Ivy Ferguson, take ye, Alec Lachlan Colin MacQuarrie, ta be my husband, ta have and ta hold forever.”
One of Alec’s dark eyebrows rose in mild amusement.
“You always surprise me, lass.”
Mr. Crawford coughed delicately.
Alec turned his gaze on the vicar. “You may continue, Crawford.”
“But she didn’t say it exactly.”
“She said what she meant,” Alec replied, all pompous Scotsman. “Now continue, Crawford.”
The vicar stood a little taller, although a frown now marred his brow. “Do ye have a ring, Mr. MacQuarrie?”
Alec nodded and then reached into his pocket. He retrieved a beautiful ruby ring, the color of a nice claret.
Then he slid the ring onto Sorcha’s left hand.
Heavy mist hung in the air. Sorcha glanced over at Rhiannon, who wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed back at Sorcha. Then she shrugged and leaned into her husband’s arms. The mist began to clear as he whispered in her ear.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” Alec said quietly, drawing her back into the ceremony.
Mr. Crawford’s voice rang out. “Ye may kiss yer bride.”
Alec attempted to gather her gently into his arms. But she’d have none of that. She launched herself at him and threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. But he just chuckled and grabbed her, lifting her to meet his waiting lips. Suddenly Alec yelped and dropped her to her feet.
All the eyes of the coven sisters and their husbands shot to Rhiannon. She shrugged. “My emotions are gettin’ the better of me,” she said.
Lord Eynsford laughed aloud as his brothers looked on, completely unaware that Alec had just been zapped by a witch with a lightning bolt for being too amorous with his end-of-ceremony kiss.
~*~
Love him with all your heart. Lord Blodswell’s advice had echoed in Sorcha’s ears all morning. And an idea had taken root. Truly,