The Ghost by Greyson, Maeve (best motivational books to read .txt) 📕

“Well done, lass,” Catriona lauded under her breath. “And dinna fret, I’ll be having a word with that wee chit on the morrow.” She spared a glance back at the bothersome girl. “She should know the MacCoinnich way by now. Mrs. Fitzgerald and I shall offer her the choice of embracing it or leaving the keep.” With a squeeze of Brenna’s hand, Catriona gifted her an excited smile. “Today is a day of celebration, and I’ll let nothing spoil it. God bless ye, sister. May only good things come to ye from this union.”

“Thank ye,” Brenna said. “For everything.” After a deep breath, she faced the elaborately carved doors of the chapel, struck mute by their grandeur. Beyond waited Magnus. Her groom. The man with whom she would spend the rest of her days. God help her. She prayed this was the right thing to do. Just because she had an overwhelming tenderness for him didn’t mean they could survive whatever lay ahead. But she would do her best. Not for her sister. Not for Keigan. But for her own aching heart. Life would be so much easier to bear with Magnus at her side. God help her—how she loved him. She only hoped he felt the same tender aching for her.

“On wi’ ye now,” Catriona whispered as she pulled open the door to the right.

“God be with ye,” Gretna said as she swung the left door wide.

“Welcome home,” Mercy called out softly from behind her. “God bless ye and Magnus with good health, happiness, and strength to face whatever the future may hold.”

“Wait!” Fenna called out. “Marcie made a lovely nosegay for ye.”

A wee lass that could pass for a mirror image of Fenna except for her wild curly hair rushed forward with a bundle of ivy brightened with blossoms of blue, lavender, and pink. “’Tis heather, miss. I nurtured it where we seed the plants for the garden. I hope ye find the early blooms lovely.”

“Thank ye, Marcie. It is perfect.” Brenna accepted the bouquet, smiling down at the symbols of fidelity, prosperous luck, and protection. “Thank ye so much.” Now, all she had to do was keep from shaking off all the blooms as she trembled her way down the aisle.

The young girl smiled, then scampered away, disappearing down the hall toward the kitchens.

“It’s time,” Catriona urged with a tilt of her head toward the doorway. “God bless ye, lass.”

After sending up a quick prayer, Brenna entered the church’s narthex. She halted as soon as she stepped into the nave. The sight of Magnus, strong and sure, waiting in front of the altar, swept away every worry. Striking as ever in his black jacket, brushed ’til not a speck of dirt could be found. Dark waistcoat. Tall, polished boots. His startling white tunic and neckcloth made her smile. The man preferred black, even when it came to his lèine. But now creamy ruffles peeped out of his coat sleeves. And even though his neckcloth was knotted and tucked, she knew it, too, had the ruffles reserved for the most special of occasions.

He wore a tartan of blue bands, some so dark they almost looked black, crossing others light as the sky. A length of it crossed his broad chest, the folds draped over his left shoulder and secured with a bronze brooch. His hair, pulled back and neatly tied, shone like polished silver. Her pounding heart shook the posies she clutched to her breast. Such a fiercely handsome man. Her true Highland warrior.

One hand propped on the buckle of his belt, he held out the other. “Come to me,” he said. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was just the way he smiled as he waited to take her hand.

Chapter Twelve

God’s teeth, how could this fine woman have agreed to take him as husband? Magnus refused to blink. He didn’t wish to miss a single moment of her walk toward him. Aye, the gown was fair enough, but it was the light in her eyes, her barely parted lips, the complete wonder of her that made it impossible to look away.

He stayed in place as long as he could bear it, then went to her, meeting her partway down the aisle. “I have never witnessed such beauty,” he said with a reverence that came from the depths of his soul. Taking her hand, he led her back to the altar. “Thank ye, m’love.”

“For what are ye thanking me?” Her fingers trembled in his, and the porcelain curves of her breasts lifted as she hitched in a nervous breath.

“I thank ye for accepting me, precious one.” He kissed her hand, then held it to his cheek, reveling in loving contentment he had never felt before. No one existed but Brenna. “Ye made me whole again, m’love. I canna imagine life without ye at my side.”

“Then I must thank ye as well,” she said with a shy tilt of her head. Her words, soft and breathless, were sweeter than any music. “For ye have made me feel the same.”

Father William cleared his throat. He thumped a finger on the open book he cradled in one hand. “Well, then…now that ye each spoke yer own vows, shall I speak the Lord’s and make this official in the eyes of the church?”

“Aye, priest. Say yer words,” Magnus said without breaking his gaze from Brenna’s. In his mind, their souls were already joined for all time. Grudgingly, he faced Father William, and Brenna did the same.

The holy man uttered an imperious harrumph, then lifted his tattered book higher. “As ye all ken well enough by now, we gather here to unite these two in the sacred bonds of marriage.” He passed a glance around the sanctuary as though giving a sermon to a full church rather than just the chosen six standing in front of the first pew. With a bushy brow hiked to a stern angle, he looked at Magnus.