Epilogue

Two weeks later, Matheson Castle

On the day of her wedding to Ivar, Catalina was awoken before dawn by a quiet but insistent tapping on her chamber door. Still groggy from sleep, she slid out of bed and approached it, wondering who it could be at such an early hour. Anastasia would not bother to knock, and she was pretty sure Dahlia and Sofia would not be awake yet.

The previous night, there had been yet another party in the great hall, as there had been every evening since the arrival of Haldor and the girls three days before. With Chisholm dead, she and Ivar had decided to postpone the ceremony long enough for Haldor, Sofia, and Dahlia to join them. They both felt it would not be the same without them. So now, she had three lovely bridesmaids to follow her down the aisle, and Ivar had his brothers to help him get ready.

A lot of wine and whisky had been drunk over the last three nights, and there had been a lot of dancing too. It seemed unlikely that any of the three ladies would be up until later that morning. It was now still dark out. Even the maids would still be abed at this early hour. So, who could it be tapping at her door?

The tapping continued, and she was about to open the door when she heard a familiar whisper from the other side of the door.

“Cat, are ye awake?”

“Ivar! What are ye doin’ out there?” she whispered back, a smile breaking out on her lips.

“Can I come in?”

“Nae, ye most certainly cannot! Have I nae told ye a hundred times, ’tis bad

luck for the bride and groom tae see each other the night before the ceremony? And me faither will kill ye if he finds ye here!”

“Are ye sure?” the plaintive reply came.

She giggled. “Aye, I’m certain, and ye well ken it too. Now, ’tis the crack of

dawn. Ye woke me up, and we should both be fast asleep. The weddin’ isnae ’til this afternoon. What are ye playin’ at?”

“D’ye really want me tae answer that truthfully?” There was a lascivious edge

to his voice that sent tingles through her, and she giggled again.

“Away with ye, ye big lummox! We’ll be man and wife this time tomorrow. Can ye nae wait until then?” Secretly, she was flattered, and if it had not been so against tradition to do so, and bad luck if you were superstitious, she would have surely let him in.

“I just wantae see ye fer a minute or two.”

“Nay! Certainly nae. Now, go back tae yer bed,” she chided in amusement.

“I’d rather be in yers,” he answered slyly.

“I’m sure ye would,” she said, chuckling. She would rather he was in hers too. “But ye’re nae comin’ in.”

“But I’ve got somethin’ fer ye—a present, I mean.”

“Wait until tomorrow!” she told him, laughing, assuming the ‘present’ was himself.

“Nay, nae that! I mean, I have a gift fer ye, fer our weddin’ tomorrow. Somethin’ fer ye tae wear at the ceremony.”

“Somethin’ tae wear? What is it?” she asked, moved at this thoughtfulness and wondering what it could be. She put her hand on the latch. Should she open the door? No! She did not want to bring them any bad luck if she could help it.

“I cannae tell ye that. It would spoil the surprise,” he whispered.

“Oh. Well, that’s very sweet of ye, Ivar. Will ye leave it outside the door and

go back tae bed? I’ll fetch it when I’m sure ye’ve gone,” she told him.

“Ach, ye’ve a hard heart, woman,” he complained. She heard a big sigh and had to hold her laughter in. She could imagine the look of frustration on his face. “All right, I’ll leave it outside the door and go.”

“Thank ye. And dinnae try tae trick me and hide around the corner.”

“Damn! What am I marryin’? Some sort of witch who can read me mind?”

“The amount ye’ve been drinkin’ and cavortin’ these last few days, I’m surprised ye’ve any mind left,” she teased.

“’Tis nae me fault! Blame yer faither fer plyin’ me with drink. He seems tae think he’s nae so much as loosin’ a daughter as gainin’ three sons. I dinnae want tae disappoint him. Besides, I’m getting’ all the cavortin’ in now before we’re wed. All the husbands keep tellin’ me how their wives put an end tae their fun once the vows are said.”

She laughed outright. “That is nae true, I am sure of it! Ye cheeky thing. Now, leave me present and be off with ye.”

“Ach, all right, I’m goin’.” There was a short pause, and then he whispered, “I love ye Catalina. I canna wait tae call ye me wife.”

Her heart melted. “I love ye too, Ivar and I cannae wait tae call ye me husband. We’ll be seein’ each other in just a few hours, me darlin’. We’ve waited this long, so we can wait until then and dae things properly, eh?”

“All right, me bonny lass. I’ll see ye then. Get some more sleep.” She listened carefully with her ear pressed to the door for a few moments to make sure he was gone, then slowly opened the door a crack. She peeped out into the hallway. It was empty. But by her bare feet on the floor was a box. Filled with excitement and love for Ivar, she picked it up and then quickly shut the door.

She took the box back to bed with her, weighing it in her hand. It was very light, and there was no sound when she gently shook it. It was about twelve inches square. Carefully, she opened it and pulled back the soft wrapping.

“Och, my, that is so beautiful!” she cried in delight, lifting out a coronet of pink and white silk roses. Amazed at how delicate it was and how real the blooms appeared, she turned it around in her hands. “It must have cost a small fortune,” she breathed aloud, in wonder. She was deeply touched that the tough, battle-hardened warrior had chosen something so lovely. But that was her Ivar, full of contradictions. That was why she loved him so.

Taking the coronet, she slipped out of bed and crossed the room to the looking glass. Lifting the exquisite headdress, she placed it gently on her head. “Why, ’tis the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she breathed, turning this way and that as she admired her reflection. “It’ll go with me weddin’ gown perfectly.”

Her heart overflowing with love for Ivar, she took it back to the bed and replaced it carefully back in the box, then set it on the nightstand to keep for later when Anastasia, Sofia, and Dahlia, as well as the two maids Betty and Lena, would be coming to help her get ready for the ceremony.

Buoyed up by happiness, she snuggled down under the covers, and thought for a while about what a lucky girl she was to have won the heart of such a fine man. When I wake up tomorrow, I’ll be Lady Catalina MacLeod, and I couldnae be more thrilled about it! With that lovely thought I mind, she fell back to sleep.

“’Tis nearly time tae go down, Cat,” Sofia said later that day, her voice tinged with excitement as she looked admiringly at the bride. “Why, ye look as pretty as a picture!” she added.

“Almost ready, Sofia. We need just a few more moments tae get the last few details just right,” replied Anastasia, who was carefully arranging the folds of the bride’s peach-colored, satin gown.

Catalina was delighted with it, and she could hardly believe how flattering it was to her figure. It had a high, tight bodice that showed off the tops of her pert breasts—a touch she knew Ivar would appreciate—a fashionable square neckline, puffed sleeves, and a flowing, embroidered skirt.

“She does indeed look a picture,” Dahlia agreed, standing back from pinning the coronet of silk roses atop Catalina’s shining hair. “I can hardly believe that me own thick-skulled braither chose this lovely headdress all by himself,” she added jokingly. “’Tis a side tae him I’ve never seen before. Ye must have worked some magic on him, Cat.”

“He has hidden depths,” Catalina replied with a twinkle in her eye.

“I dinnae want tae ken,” Dahlia replied with a playful grimace.

“Now, have ye got yer ribbon fer the knot tying?” Sofia asked Catalina from behind her, where she was smoothing out the short train to the wedding gown.

“Och, nay, I mustnae go without that!” Catalina replied.

“Aye, ’tis an important part. I’ll fetch it fer ye,” Sofia went to the vanity and collected the strip of silk ribbon. When she returned, Catalina held out her wrist so Sofia could secure it. It would match the one Ivar would be wearing on his wrist. The forming of the knot around their joined hands would be a symbol of their union that would be carefully preserved.

“Right, I think ye’re ready at last,” Anastasia said finally, standing back to admire her sister and smiling broadly. “Ye make a beautiful bride, Cat. I’m so happy fer ye.” She pressed a kiss to her sister’s powdered cheek, being careful not to crease her dress.

“Are ye excited then?” Dahlia asked as she and Anastasia took up their positions behind Catalina, holding her short train, while Sofia darted to open the door and push it wide so they could all pass through easily in their lovely gowns.

“More excited than I’ve ever been in me life,” Catalina admitted, feeling short of breath as she crossed the threshold. “I cannae wait tae meet Ivar at the altar.”

Once they were in the hallway, Sofia took her place with the others, and they walked in a procession down the hallway towards the staircase.

“Are ye nervous?” Anastasia sked as they carefully negotiated the stairs.

“I am, but I think they’re happy nerves,” Catalina replied. “I just wish Maither and Brenna could be here to see me wed. I hope they’re looking down on us from Heaven to see all this.”

“I’ve nae doubt they are and are very proud of ye, sister,” Anastasia told her, dashing a small tear from the corner of her eye with the back of her hand.

“I pray so,” Catalina breathed, her nervous excitement mounting with every step. They approached the doors of the great hall, where two smartly dressed ushers bowed respectfully and greeted them all. After some last minute, quite needless adjustments to the bride’s appearance by her small entourage, Anastasia nodded at the ushers, who opened the doors.

Slowly, they swung open. Catalina gasped to see the enormous space was packed with dignitaries from the neighboring clans who had come to witness the wedding. Smiling faces turned to look at her as he entered.

As she set off up the aisle, gasps of admiration arose from the congregation, filling the air. However, Catalina heard none of them, for her attention went instantly to the tall, broad figure waiting for her at the makeshift altar. Her heart swelled with love and pride as she took in Ivar’s imposing appearance. It was hard to believe that the incredibly handsome man now smiling back at her would soon be hers forever.

A thrill of wanting coursed through her to see him looking so resplendent in a fitted coat of midnight blue, a ruffled shirt of snowy white linen, and his kilt, which showed off his long, muscular legs to perfection.

His black shoes were polished to a high shine. The hilt of his sword glittered in the flickering light of the candles that stood on the altar and which signified their union. The breath left her body at the magnificent sight of him, her heart beginning to pound as she drew ever closer.

When he smiled at her, she thought she would swoon, but somehow, she gathered the strength to walk the last few paces to stand at his side. He smiled as he took her hand gently in his and looked deeply into her eyes. In those silvery-blue depths Catalina saw the love he bore for her. She felt like the luckiest woman alive as she smiled up at him tremulously, telling him with her eyes that her heart was full of love for him.

“Ye look beautiful,” he whispered, looking at her admiringly, while the minister took up his position behind the altar and opened his Bible.

“And ye look very braw in that outfit,” she replied quickly as they exchanged tender smiles.

The ceremony began. Most of it passed in a daze for Catalina, for it was hard for her to concentrate with Ivar looking so handsome beside her and squeezing her hand tightly. Then came the most important part of the ceremony, the handfasting.

Haldor, looking splendid in his laird’s outfit, came forward, bearing a ceremonial dirk. Ivar and Catalina offered him their palms, and without hesitation, Haldor deftly made shallow cuts across their flesh. A little blood seeped from the cuts as Ivar gripped Catalina’s hand in his and pressed their palms together, mingling their blood, their gazes locked.

The ritual words were spoken, solemnizing the marriage according to centuries-long tradition. The happy couple exchanged loving looks as they slowly pulled their hands apart so that the ribbons formed a perfect knot. Haldor delicately removed it and carried it away. It would be carefully preserved for posterity.

Soon after that, the minister declared them man and wife. “Ye may now kiss the bride,” he said with a benevolent smile. Catalina thought she would explode with joy when Ivar bent down and kissed her lips, gently at first, then more intently as she responded with fervor. At last, her dream had come true and she was his wife!

The congregation roared their approval, and she and Ivar beamed at each other as they turned in unison. Catalina felt she could breathe at last, her heart full to bursting as she clung to Ivar’s arm.

They stood side by side, looking out over all the people who had come to watch them celebrate their union. Clapping and beaming at them from the front row was her father, Anastasia, Haldor, Arne, Sofia, and Dahlia. Catalina’s eyes filled with tears to see all her dear family united on such a wonderful occasion. She felt so thankful for them all.

She gazed up at Ivar and murmured, “Truly, husband, I cannae imagine bein’ any happier than I am at this moment. I’m so happy tae be yer wife.”

“Ye’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be again, Catalina,” he whispered back, his eyes shining with emotion. “And I’m so proud tae be the husband of such a lovely woman. I cannae wait fer our weddin’ night,” he added, winking at her.

“Me neither,” she admitted, winking back, and they laughed as they made their way back down the aisle, thrilled to be joined together forever in joyful wedded bliss.