Felicia was like a boulder rolling down a mountain. Nothing could get in the way of what she wanted, or she rolled over it.
Now her future sister-in-law eyed her with approval, then stepped back. “You and Audra
are
bonny,” she said. “Thank you for making Lachlan happy.” Felicia gave a brief hug. “Time to go.”
The wedding was in the chapel. Kimbra wore a gown that had belonged to the Charlton’s wife. She and Jane had worked a day to make it fit. They had taken another dress and used the material for Audra’s gown. There had been no time for more.
They wanted no invasion of English soldiers, and the wedding was to be small and quick. Under the circumstances the priest, not altogether happy with the situation but dependent on the Charlton for his living, waived the bans.
A knock on the door. It was time to go. For a moment, Kimbra’s legs trembled. She still worried something might change Lachlan. He might realize her complete unsuitability for him. They had talked about where to go and decided first to Inverleith, then she and Audra would accompany him on the ship to Paris.
If Audra liked shipboard life, he would continue to master a ship. If not, they would decide then where to go.
But she could not really believe he did not want to return home to Inverleith.
She went down the tower steps to the small chapel in the tower. The door was open. Audra went first, fairly dancing down the aisle. Felicia and Jane followed.
She passed the Charlton who sat with his daugher, son-in-law, and their three children. He beamed at her.
When Audra reached the altar she went to Lachlan and put her small hand in his. He leaned down and said something to her, which caused her to giggle.
Then it was Kimbra’s turn.
Lachlan was waiting for her. Rory and Jamie stood next to him. But she gave them only a passing glance. Her eyes went directly to the man who would be her husband. To the auburn hair and blue eyes, and straight body, and the smile that made her ache inside.
He would love both of them. And any children they were blessed with.
She reached the altar and put her hand in his, and unconditionally gave him her heart and accepted his. Warmth spread over her. Warmth and wonder that this man could be hers.
Unafraid, she turned to the priest.
In 1988,
Patricia Potter
won the Maggie Award and a Reviewer’s Choice Award from
Romantic Times
for her first novel. She has been named Storyteller of the Year by
Romantic Times
and has received the magazine’s Career Achievement Award for Western Historical Romance along with numerous Reviewer’s Choice nominations and awards.
She has won three Maggie awards, is a four-time RITA finalist, and has been on the
USA Today
bestseller list. Her books have been alternate choices for the Doubleday Book Club.
Prior to writing fiction, she was a newspaper reporter with the
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
and president of a public relations firm in Atlanta. She has served as president of Georgia Romance Writers and board member of River City Romance Writers, and is past president of Romance Writers of America.