The Wedding

She suddenly went completely still. "War paint, Father? Did you say war paint? Co

She didn't mean to shout at the priest, but honest to God, her endurance was gone. She simply couldn't take anything more. She didn't care who lived and who died, even if she were the one slain. Only one thing mattered to her now. The war paint.

She turned her wrath on Co

The priest's mouth dropped open. He'd never heard anyone speak to Laird MacAlister in such a ma

Co

Lord, she was a nuisance.

"Bre

"You will not wear war paint to our wedding."

Honest to God, she sounded as mean as he did. He couldn't help but be impressed. "I want to get this done."

She let go of his arm and crossed her arms in front of her. "We'll wait."

"If you think…"

"I won't ever ask anything more of you."

Damn it all, she looked as if she was about to start wailing. Didn't she realize she was about to become his wife? It was an honor, not a death sentence.

His bride didn't seen to understand, however. One of them was going to have to be reasonable, and he guessed it would have to be his duty.

"This really matters to you?"

She couldn't believe he needed to ask such a ridiculous question. The sacrament of matrimony was a blessed event, everyone knew that, and coming to a priest dressed for war insulted God, the church, the priest and her.

"It's very important to me."

"All right then, but this is the last time I'll ever concede to your demands."

Co

"You have, and I am most appreciative."

She suddenly felt like smiling, but she maintained her somber expression until Co

She kept on smiling until she remembered the blue-faced pagans who rode with the groom.

She was frowning with indignation by the time she turned to them. "Were you expecting to attend the wedding?"

She didn't have to say anything more. Quinlan and the others bowed to her before hurrying to catch up with their laird.

They didn't balk the way Co

Because she'd been so concerned about important matters, it hadn't occurred to her that the men would have to remove their clothes before entering the water. Admittedly, she'd been too occupied gloating over her insignificant little victory to think about anything else.

Their belts fell to the ground first. She came to a dead stop and closed her eyes. She still wasn't fast enough, for she saw every one of their naked backsides before they disappeared into the lake below.

Their laughter followed. She didn't mind, even though she was certain they had known all the while that she was there and were now laughing at her.

The priest came up behind her. "We haven't been introduced, mi'lady. My name is Father Kevin Sinclair, son of Angus Sinclair of the Neatherhills."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Father. My name is Bre

"I had already surmised as much."

"My clothing and my speech are both sure indications, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," he agreed with a smile she thought was as charming as his brogue.

The priest radiated warmth and kindness, and for the first time in a long while, she began to relax.

"I must compliment you, Lady Bre

"But, Father, I've been studying Gaelic for years."

Horrified, he stammered out a hasty apology. "Do forgive me. I meant to praise you, not insult you."

"I wasn't offended, just surprised," she assured him.

His smile returned. "Did you know you alternate between both languages when you're angry?"

"No, I didn't know. When did you notice this peculiar behavior?"

"When the war paint irritated you. I was also irritated, but not for long. The way you stood up to Co

"I shouldn't have been difficult. It wasn't ladylike, and I do know better. My temper got the best of me and is a fault I must try to overcome. If there were time, I would beg you to hear my confession before I married."

"I would be happy to make the time, mi'lady."

"Then there is a chapel close-by?"

"We have few chapels here, but as long as we don't face each other while you confess, the rules of the church will be guarded."

The priest was already wearing the stole he used to hear confessions. The tasseled strip of material was draped around his shoulders. As soon as they reached the clearing, he pulled the ends loose from the rope belt he wore around the waist of his brown robe and turned to find a suitable spot.

He finally settled on a tree stump, sat down, and then instructed Bre

She bowed her head and closed her eyes. He stared across the clearing, made the sign of the cross with a wide sweep of his hand, and told her to begin.

She quickly listed her transgressions, and when she was finished, she began to ask him questions in an attempt to stall the inevitable.

"Is it sinful for me to fear my future? I don't know Co

The priest wasn't about to admit that Co

"I don't know him very well either, but I have heard enough about his background to understand why he's such a hard man. His father died when he was very young, and he was then raised by Alec Kincaid, who finished what his father had begun. The two men consider themselves to be brothers."

"I'm certain I shall like his brother," she whispered, hoping to God she was right.

The priest was just as certain she'd be terrified of him. Lord knew, he was, though he didn't think it would do her any good to hear him admit it. "I have never felt the need to guard my words in his presence or walk twenty paces behind him. Age has taught Kincaid to listen before he retaliates-at least, that is what I've been told-and for that reason he doesn't intimidate me the way…"