“Your Grace.” She started to curtsy.
He caught her hand, stopping her. “Father will do.” He kissed her cheek. “Now, let me look at you.” He took a step back. “A fine thing, indeed.” He drew her close and hugged her. “Don't fret,” he said into her ear. “All will be well.”
To her great surprise, relief rushed through her. The duke released her, and Phoebe turned to see Elise standing behind her. The duke stepped past Phoebe.
“Marcus.” Elise fell into his arms.
Just as a bride might fall into her groom's embrace, Phoebe couldn't help noticing, and a sudden urge to cry swept over her. She ducked her head with the intention of turning away, but the strong arm that slid around her waist startled her. She recognized Kiernan’s touch. He held her steady as the duchess withdrew from her husband’s embrace. Phoebe caught sight of her misty eyes and was sure she, too, would give into the tears that hung perilously close to the surface. When Elise embraced her, she remained silent, but gave Phoebe a squeeze, then returned to stand beside her husband.
Phoebe recognized the fiery redhead who next approached. Earlier, Elise had introduced Phoebe earlier to Sophie, the duke’s cousin, and her husband, Justin. “How wonderful that you have managed to settle this rascal down,” Sophie said with a lilt of Scottish brogue. She glanced affectionately at Kiernan, then looking back at Phoebe, added, “I'm pleased to meet you, Lady Ashlund.”
Justin stepped up and said, “Mille failte dhuit le d’bhreid, Fad do re gun robh thu slan. Moran laithean dhuit is sith, Le d’mahaitheas is le d’ni bhi fas.”
Phoebe frowned, and Kiernan's warm breath washed over her ear when he bent and whispered, “A thousand welcomes to you with your marriage kerchief. May you be healthy all your days, may you be blessed with long life and peace. May you grow old with goodness and with riches.”
She looked at Justin, though her mind was on the cool metal of the ring on the finger of the hand Kiernan held. Phoebe smiled. “Thank you, my lord.”
Justin kissed her cheek, then shook hands with Kiernan. “My congratulations,” he said, and moved on.
Mather stepped up. “Lady Ashlund.” He bowed.
“Mather,” Phoebe said with an unexpected rush of affection. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I'm so glad you're here.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied, his face flush. He extricated his hand from hers and moved on.
Phoebe recognized the captain of Brahan Seer as he stepped up.
“Meal do naigheachd!” he said.
She gave him a bemused look.
“Congratulations to ye, Lady Ashlund,” he said with a smile, and went on.
The last guest stopped before them “Ye have a fine lad, there,” Winnie said. “I saw his father birthed, and have known Kiernan from nigh the day he was born.” Her eyes grew moist. “Fine lad.” She placed a hand on Phoebe’s shoulder and squeezed before brushing past her.
Kiernan angled his head toward Phoebe and said through the corner of his mouth, “Are you sure you're up for the celebration?”
“You can't disappoint your tenants,” Phoebe replied.
“I'm sorry, Phoebe, but they insisted on a celebration.”
“Don't trouble yourself, Lord Ashlund,” she said. “It's only fitting they should offer their best wishes.”
“You need stay only a few minutes, then you can excuse yourself. No one will think much of your retiring early for the evening.”
The small celebration, Phoebe noted, as they rounded the bend that led from the chapel to the castle, spilled from the great hall into the courtyard. She faltered, then decided it was far better to face a crowd of strangers, than any single anxious face. All were indeed strangers, aside from those few who had attended the ceremony, yet they greeted her as though she was no stranger, and certainly not English.
The guests hadn't waited for the bride and groom to join them before beginning the merriment. Though the food on the long table had remained untouched, scotch, wine, and other spirits had been indulged in without hesitation. A shout went up as Phoebe and Kiernan passed through the doorway. Kiernan’s arm jerked from her waist as he was pulled from her side by a rowdy group of men. He received hearty slaps on the back and comments in Gaelic, which no one translated. The men began dragging Kiernan away. He glanced helplessly over his shoulder. She raised a questioning brow, but he shrugged and turned his attention to his comrades.
“Come along, Phoebe,” a woman said behind her.
Phoebe turned to see Elise step up beside her.
“Chances are, you won’t see Kiernan the rest of the evening. The women usually gather near the hearth and leave the rest of the room to the men.” She smiled. “Much safer that way.”