Now Violet stood in the decorated ballroom, her hand on Cameron Mackenzie’s arm. The tall Cameron would lead her down the aisle to Daniel.
Ian Mackenzie waited next to Daniel, having agreed to be his groomsman. While they’d still been in Paris, waiting for Daniel to heal, Ian had pulled Violet aside. “You kept him safe,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Safe?” Violet shook her head. “I got him shot. I did everything but keep him safe.”
“He lived because of you. He did everything for you.” Ian paused, glancing away as though gathering his thoughts before looking directly at Violet, his golden eyes like a flash of sunlight. “He needs someone to live for. Not just inventions.”
Violet tried a smile. “His inventions are very important to him.”
Ian’s expression didn’t change. “Family is more important. Now you are his family.”
And that was the end of the discussion.
The guests in the ballroom turned as Violet walked past them. They were all members of the family, or close friends and neighbors. No one else, Daniel had said severely. This was to be a private occasion, no showing off to the world.
For the private occasion, the ballroom was packed. Most of the guests were Mackenzies, the room filled with blue and green plaid. Some were McBrides, Ainsley’s brothers—the four of them and their families at the front of the room. Celine was there with Ainsley, looking ready to dissolve into tears.
Daniel had given the house in London he’d bought from Mortimer to Celine, who had been gushingly grateful. Celine planned to keep sitting the séances, she said, with Mary’s help. Her timely vision of Daniel needing help had made her more eager than ever to share her gift.
Bagpipes sang Violet down the aisle. Mackenzie clan members watched her come—tall men with hair every shade of red from darkest auburn to bright carrot. The Mackenzie, the clan chief, a straight and tall man with white hair, made Violet a bow as she walked by.
But when Daniel smiled at Violet as she stopped beside him, nothing else mattered. The warmth of Daniel, the gleam in his eyes, was the only thing Violet needed. He’d saved her life.
The bishop began. The ceremony wound its way along, and Violet made the correct responses, barely hearing herself. Only the words of the vows mattered—Violet plighting her troth to Daniel, he promising to care for her until the end.
Then she was wed. Daniel lifted the veil from Violet’s face and kissed her.
The crowd behind them let out whoops and screams. Pipes played, children shrieked, and shouts and laughter rang out.
The festivities began. There was the wedding feast, laid out across several rooms. Then dancing and flowing whiskey, the party lasting through the afternoon and on into the night.
Violet laid aside her veil and joined in the Scottish dances that Ainsley and Eleanor had taught her. Violet loved dancing alongside Daniel, holding hands with him, or threading through the other dancers in the line. The pipes, fiddles, and drums were energizing, the room filled with joy. At one point, Daniel was coaxed into doing a sword dance, which he performed with athletic grace. Then Jamie Mackenzie performed it, showing the same grace and skill, to the delight of all, and Ian’s pride.
“He’s a good lad,” Ian said to Violet, squeezing her hand hard. “My son. He’s happy.” The last was said with even more pride.
The Mackenzie children stayed awake long past their bedtimes, until they dropped off one by one. Gavina and Stuart begged to be allowed to have Violet and Daniel carry them up to bed, and Violet happily concurred. Violet too was wearying, though she was pleasantly tired, not exhausted.
“’Tis not really for us,” Daniel said, as he climbed to the nursery beside Violet. Stuart was already asleep on his shoulder, his golden red hair tousled, though Gavina resolutely kept her eyes open. “The wedding of a clan member reassures the others of the continuation of the clan. At least that’s the excuse for all the drinking and dancing.” Daniel winked. “And other things, as the night goes on. My family is not prudish.”
Violet laid Gavina in her bed in the large nursery, while Daniel tended to Stuart. Violet leaned down and kissed Gavina good night.
“Night, Violet,” Gavina said happily. “Since you’re married now, you and Danny can have lots of babies. Hurry, please.” She delivered her demand, then closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
“My sister knows her mind,” Daniel said. He put a gentle hand on Stuart’s back, the fondness in his eyes plain to see. Daniel leaned down and kissed his brother’s forehead, then he took Violet’s hand and led her out of the room.
The hallway outside the nursery was deserted. Daniel leaned Violet against a wall by a large window and curved over her. “I know my own mind too. ’Tis a family trait. I’m dying for ye, Mrs. Mackenzie.”
His kiss took Violet’s breath away. Daniel had her pressed to the wall, his strength pinning her, the wooden paneling hard against her back.
The feeling of the wall behind her and a strong man before her stirred the fringes of Violet’s old panic. But Violet forced herself to the present. This was Daniel, leaning into her lovingly, his mouth coaxing, tender.
She and her husband kissing in the hall was now, her life. Daniel had taught her that a man wanting a woman could touch her gently, could draw from her the greatest pleasure she could feel.
Daniel kissed Violet until she knew nothing but him, this heat, his mouth, the caress of his lips. His hands warmed her, arms coming around her to pull her from the wall and into him. The panic floated away into the darkness.