Divana took her hands and placed them on her shoulders. “The bodice is the color of primroses, and the lace is like the foaming edges of the sea.”

“I do love primroses—they have such a lovely fragrance.” Emma skimmed her fingers along the lace at the neckline. “Goodness, your descriptions are so thorough, I can see everything in my mind’s eye. Tell me, Janet, is she not the bonniest lass in the Highlands?”

“Today she definitely is. Our lady has hair the color of fire, and it is laced atop her head with a yellow ribbon. And remember the sea she mentioned?”

“Aye.”

“Her eyes are blue like the shallows right before the water begins to foam.”

“Och, all the lads will be jealous of Sir Kennan this day.”

“I reckon they will.” Janet turned to the mantel clock. “But now ’tis time to go.”

“Already?” Divana’s stomach fluttered. “I’m so nervous.”

Janet took Emma’s hand and started for the door. “But you’re already married, sweeting. This is simply a formality.”

“And the service will only last a wee hour,” said Emma. “And then there will be dancing.”

Divana didn’t budge. “But there are so many people here.”

“Aye.” Janet beckoned. “Isn’t it fun?”

* * *

At the front of the church, Kennan stood by Ciar MacDougall, both clad in full Highland garb. The Chieftain of Dunollie, Ciar had been his closest ally since childhood and was the right choice to stand as his best man. The pipe organ in the kirk began to play, and he still hadn’t seen his father—blast his bullheaded nature. Lady Lochiel had been good enough to attend, and she sat in the front pew, with baby Adam on her lap. Kennan’s brothers, John and Alan, sat beside her. And he gave a nod as Janet and Emma slipped into the seat beside Grant.

Ciar leaned in. “’Tis good to see Miss Emma.”

“Is it?” Kennan eyed his friend. “Have you a fondness for the lass?”

“She has been an acquaintance of mine for years, though with the current unrest in Scotland, I haven’t had the opportunity to visit Glenmoriston as of late.”

“Then you’d best make good use of your time here.”

“Perhaps I will, my friend.”

As the rear doors opened, had Ciar uttered something else, Kennan would have heard it if he weren’t dumbstruck. He stood spellbound, gazing down the aisle at the most stunningly beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But what made the moment exquisitely special was that the man who offered his arm and walked the lass down the aisle was none other than the Great Lochiel himself.

As Kennan smiled, not only did a lump grow in his throat, but he found himself blinking away the moisture in his eyes. Of course a braw sea captain would never shed a tear when standing in front of two hundred guests, nor would he admit he’d had any difficulty keeping the tears at bay.

When Divana joined him, radiantly smiling like his queen of the high seas, Da took her hand and placed it in Kennan’s palm. “You have chosen the woman who will preside alongside you when you become clan chief. I’ll admit I had my misgivings at first. But then I recalled a time when she tended you without sleep, fiercely protecting you from all ills, trusting no one else to mind your bedside. I do believe this lass would have gladly given her life for you. And her spirit embodies the essence of what it means to be a Cameron.”