“Everyone okay?” Camden’s voice pulls my attention away as I look over and see him approaching. He’s left his position under the dry alter where we’ll exchange our vows. Rain beads off his wool suit jacket and down his arms, but something about his blue eyes in the grey daylight is dreamy.
“We’re fine,” I reply with a laugh. “Although, it’s good you’ve come. I think our proud piper here was just about to whisk me away to the Highlands.”
Camden frowns at the old man, who doesn’t look the least bit intimidated as he places the reed in his mouth and begins playing again with an extra flourish and more eyebrow waggles.
Cam turns back to me in confusion. “I think I should walk you the rest of the way. I don’t trust the twinkle in that bloke’s eyes.”
With a huge smile, I reach out and grab his hand, pulling him under the umbrella with me. “Sounds perfect.”
He smiles down at my rain-drizzled face, his own just as damp as his smoothed back hair. When his body presses up against mine, I instantly wish we were done with the wedding part and in our honeymoon cottage.
“It’s strange to see you without your glasses, Specs,” Camden murmurs softly, a wicked glint in his eyes.
“It’s strange to see you wearing a skirt, Camden,” I retort, glancing down and taking in his suit jacket, vest, and red tartan tie that matches his kilt.
“It’s called a kilt. It’s very manly,” he corrects with a tight jaw. “And just wait ‘til you see what’s underneath. That’s definitely manly.”
I can’t help but giggle and roll my eyes—a very familiar response when it comes to my future husband. He drops a kiss on my forehead, then pulls back to look at my full body.
“If I were smarter, I would have let you struggle a bit longer in the rain.”
“Why is that?” I ask, my brows knitting together as I look down at my dress that has a good inch of mud on the hemline.
“Because your dress is white.” He waggles his brows and glances down at my chest with a lascivious smirk.
“You’re cockier than the bagpiper I think,” I murmur under my breath and jab him in the ribs with my bouquet.
“And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he replies quickly, his face losing all humour as he stares straight into my soul.
My kneejerk reaction is to complain about my ruined hair or my runny makeup, or maybe whine about how I didn’t have time to get my dress hemmed and now it’s ruined by the rain. But I’m too happy to let all those thoughts cloud my mind. Today I’m marrying Camden Harris and nothing is going to get me down.
As we follow the bagpiper down the aisle, Camden holds the umbrella over us and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Hey, Specs, why does Snoop Dog need an umbrella?”
I look up at him curiously. “Why?”
“For drizzle.”
Camden’s pun causes a laugh to burst unexpectedly from my belly, and I think it caught the bagpiper off guard because he let one of those high notes slip again. Thankfully, he didn’t trip.
We finally make our way up to the safety of the pagoda in one soggy piece. Our earlier teasing is forgotten when the registrar begins the service. Camden and I face each other, holding hands beneath the hanging glass lanterns that twinkle yellow lights all around us. A portable heater warms my bare arms and shoulders as I adjust my strapless dress. I wipe at some mud splatters on my skirt that only end up smearing, and I’m instantly transported back to the first time I met Camden.
He was covered in mud and laid out on a stretcher, playing the part of a cocky football player. But he wasn’t only an athlete womaniser looking to have sex with his surgeon. He was a Harris Brother, which meant more than I ever could have ever realised on my own.
The registrar indicates it’s time for us to say our vows to each other, and Camden is the one to go first.
“Indie Porter, I promise to love you more than cheesy puns, more than James Patterson novels, and more than football. I promise to pour you coffee every morning and let you spoon me every night without talking about it the next day. I promise to be understanding when you’d rather read a boring textbook than watch telly with me. And I promise to be fully supportive of your career in sports medicine, no matter how many blokes you have to put your hands on.
“You made me want more out of life, Specs. You saw so much more in me than just my family and football. You helped me see a life outside of my own little world. Because of that, for the rest of my life, everything I have is thine. All my possessions, my wisdom, my humour, my hopelessness and hope, my passion and, above all, my love is thine, as thou art mine.”
Tears slide down my cheeks as he repeats the mantra that has become my most treasured words out of his mouth. He said them to me the first time we made love. Every time I hear them now, I remember exactly what made me fall in love with him.
The registrar gestures for me to begin, so I take a deep breath and steel myself to speak from the heart, which has never been as easy for me as it has been for Camden.
“Camden Harris, I had a list of qualities for the kind of man I wanted to marry. A description. A type. I had everything planned out. Then you happened.” I pause and fail to wipe the smile off my face as I have flashbacks of Camden and his brothers barrelling into my hospital. “I had this person’s character traits listed out in great detail, but the one thing that was never on my list was love. Love was a foreign concept to me because of how I grew up. That’s why I appreciated my charts and checklists. They gave me a sense of purpose. But you were someone I never could have planned on because you don’t belong on a list, Camden. You belong with me. You were meant for me, and I’m so grateful to take the Harris name today. I’m ready to be a part of a real, genuine family…with you. You are my family, Camden. You’ve shown me what love feels like. Because of that, I will be thine forever and always. Thank you so much for being inappropriate and kissing me in the hospital when you were my patient.”
Camden laughs, his glossy eyes spilling tears down his face. “I believe it was you who kissed me in the surgical theatre later on.”
I giggle. “We are full of inappropriate moments.”
He nods proudly. “And now we’ll have a lifetime to make more.”
The registrar says a few more things I don’t hear. But when he says we can kiss, he has my full attention.
Camden leans in, cups my face in his hands, and presses his lips to mine in the most tender, soul-affirming kiss of my entire life. It isn’t a kiss of passion or lust, sex or attraction. It’s a kiss that feels like home and a lifetime of promises to be there for each other, no matter what.
Three
Cock and Balls
Camden
It’s dark out when I carry Indie through the rain, up to the entryway of the secluded stonewall honeymoon cottage that’s been prepared for us. The building is tiny and located on the grounds of the majestic Caerlaverock Castle. It’s apparently where the groundskeeper lived back in the 1800s, but the wedding planner said it is the most romantic place you can find near Gretna Green.
I finagle the door open and carry my giggling bride across the threshold into a stunning one-room cottage, covered in pink flower petals and illuminated by the fireplace and dozens of votive candles. The cottage looks like it was plucked straight out of some historic Scottish Highlands magazine. Indie slips out of my arms and gasps as she takes in the untainted character of a cottage that’s easily two hundred years old. The original stone walls and cedar-plank flooring coupled with the roaring fire, plush rugs, and cosy furniture transform this piece of ancient history into a hideaway you never want to leave.
“Will this work okay for you, Mrs. Harris?” I ask, loosening my tie and following her as she makes her way over to the fire crackling in the stone hearth.