October 20th, 1614

Border traditions were a refreshing change for Sir Joslin de Lonnare in the morning before his wedding. There was no formal breakfast with the lord of the keep; no ritualized bathing ceremony or outdated insistence upon keeping him purely in the company of men as the time ticked toward his nuptial hour. He was always in company, of course, but that company was that of his friend, Phillipe, and a very skilled old man and his wife, who adjusted the best clothing of the deceased eldest brother of the Darroch clan to fit the young knight within just a couple of hours, filling the room with chatter as they worked to keep the groom distracted from other traditions that were taking place outside.

Even with the snow that had fallen overnight to lay on the ground in a frozen blanket, the people of Dunfayre had come out to help Darroch Keep decorate herself with garlands of the hardy flowers that bloomed even in the heart of winter. sweeping a path between the main hall and the chapel for the family and the couple to traverse when the time came. If Jos had looked out at the loudest of the clamor, it would have been to see Juliana pretending to sneak out of the keep, with the bustle of people playing up to the act, and make her way up onto the hill that overlooked the keep and village to gather something from beneath the snow before she returned, "recaptured" by her father and whisked away inside to the tune of laughter and teasing.

Yet that was the last Jos would have seen of her until the moment of the wedding itself, when Aidan Darroch, Laird of Dunfayre, escorted his only daughter into the chapel to lay her hand in the grasp of the knight who had won her heart. "I give my rose to thee, and will ye tae bind her close, all the days of yer life."

Jos had been a bundle of nervous and impatient excitement all morning, even as the tailors worked to fit him in clothing that was far fancier than anything he was accustomed to wearing, but then today was an important day - arguably, the most important day of his life. It was Phillipe who had stopped him from investigating what the clamor was all about and prevented him from catching a glimpse of his bride too early. By the time he and Phillipe arrived in the chapel, Jos was fit to be tied, but all his nerves and anxiety disappeared as soon as he caught sight of his beautiful bride entering the chapel, his heart beating fast. He smiled at the sight of her, as he took her hand very gently in his. "I take her gladly from you, my lord, and swear to protect her and care for her all the days of my life."

Juliana gazed up at Jos, barely aware of his clothing despite the time and care that had been taken over it. Her smile lit up her face, her burnished bronze hair looped back from her face to fall down her back in a waterfall of soft strands. Her gown was simple; the best she owned, of soft red velvet that complimented the circlet of heather that topped her head - the object of the odd little escape ritual he had missed witnessing that morning.

As her hands folded into his, her eyes tenderly adoring, the priestess spoke the blessing over them, beginning the short marriage rite with her knowing smile. "Sir Joslin de La Roche, de Lonnare, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together at the Goddess' will in the holy estate of matrimony' Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep thee only to her, so long as you both shall live?"

Joslin's eyes were warm with love and adoration as he turned to face her, her hands in his. She looked even lovelier than ever, but it wasn't so much the way she was dressed that he was noticed so much as the light in her eyes and the happiness she wore on her face. He recognized the priestess as the one who had heard his confession, and it seemed fitting it was she who would witness their vows. "Oui," he answered with a full and honest heart. "Je devrai. I will."

Juliana's smile deepened as he gave his promise, and for a moment there was silence as those gathered waited to hear her vows from her own lips, as was the custom of the Church. "I, Juliana Katriona, swear faithfully to have this man to my wedded husband, to live under his hand at the Goddess' will. I swear to love, comfort, honor, and obey; to be bonny and buxom in bed and at board; to keep him in sickness and in health; to cleave to no other, so long as we both shall live." Her fingers tightened in his, knowing that now the words had been spoken, there was no one who could pull them apart.

There were no rings to give; only the impossibly rich could afford to have such a luxury. Mother Magda's smile was audible in her voice as she closed the marriage rite, her hands stretching out to bless them both. "What the Goddess has blessed, let no man tear down. I name thee man and wife."

Joslin's eyes grew misty with tears as Juliana spoke vows that came from her heart. He'd never known she had a second name or what that name was until that very moment, which only reminded him how much they had yet to learn about each other. They had the rest of their lives to accomplish that, and he thought learning about each other was part of the fun. He had no deep, dark secrets, and he presumed neither did she. They were just two young people in love. And that simply and quickly, they were joined in marriage, for better or worse, richer or poorer, until the end of their days. "Puis-je"" he asked, looking expectantly to Mother Magda for permission to kiss his bride, eyes shining with happiness.

The old priestess laughed, nodding to Jos as he asked for permission to kiss his own wife.

"Get on wi' it, lad," Aidan grumbled from behind them. "M' freezin' ma knackers off here."

Juliana rolled her eyes, shooting her father a good-natured glare. "So romantic, father," she chided him with a smile, turning her adoring eyes back to Jos. Every kiss they had shared thus far seemed to mean nothing, not in the face of this kiss.

If Joslin had known Aidan more, he might have suggested the man dress for the weather, but instead, he only grinned and drew his bride close to seal their vows with a kiss that was loving and tender in front of all those who'd been invited to witness this moment and share in their happiness. Though this was not the first kiss they'd shared, it was the first as husband and wife.

What he found in his new wife was warm willingness to love and be loved, sharing everything in that kiss that had not been said in the vow she had just sworn to him. Her fingers teased into his hair, careful not to tousle those curls too much as she giggled against his lips. "He's right, it is freezing in here," she admitted in a low whisper, brushing the tip of her nose to his affectionately as she smiled at her husband.

"You have me to keep you warm now," he reminded her, as she brushed her nose against his. Nothing was going to diminish his spirits - not Coimbrans, not war or politics, and certainly not the temperature. In fact, he almost felt like nothing could ever go wrong again, so long as she was by his side. "Love you forever, Juliana Katriona," he whispered, touching his forehead to hers.

"Aye, forever will do, for now," she agreed softly, lingering with him in that warm embrace for a long moment before the impatient clearing of her father's throat drew them back to the present moment. "All right, all right, old man," she laughed, turning her head toward Aidan Darroch. "Eager for your meal, aye?"

Her father endeavored to look injured for a moment before flashing a grin. "There's been a whole sucklin' pig roasting all day, lass," he said in an aggrieved tone. "If I dinnae get some soon, I'll fair faint o' the hunger."

Joslin laughed at the verbal repartee between father and daughter, a little envious of the obvious love the pair had for each other. It was at times like these he missed his own parents, wishing they could have been there to see him get married, to know he - and Justine, too - had been lucky enough to find the same love and happiness their parents had shared. But he wasn't going to let it sadden him today, not on the happiest day of his life. "We'd better feed him then, before he passes out," Joslin replied, tucking Juliana's arm into his. "Shall we, ma petite""

"When was the last time it was used?" he asked curiously, his fingers mirroring hers to trace the carvings on the chair, admiring its craftsmanship. He understood that this was not just a chair, but a place of honor for the newly-married couple. "It seems a shame to hide it away somewhere," he said, and yet, he understood that a chair like this was only used for special occasions, such as this.

"It last came out for my parents' wedding," she told him with a smile. "It's only used for the laird and his family. We've tried getting others to use it, but they refuse." She chuckled, dropping down onto the wide seat, her hand tugging on his to pull him down beside her.

He couldn't very well argue with that, dropping down onto the seat beside her with a small frown. "I'm sorry about your mother," he said quietly, tangling his fingers with hers. He couldn't do anything to change the past, but maybe now that His Grace had agreed to build a fort here, no further children would lose their mothers to Coimbran raids. One could hope, anyway.

She twisted to face him, enfolding his hands within her own. "It would have been nice to have had her here today," she admitted softly, her words for his ears only. "But she's everywhere I look in Darroch. She's in my bedchamber, waking me in the morning, saying goodnight when darkness falls; she's here at mealtimes, telling me to use a napkin and not my tunic, like my father does." She laughed softly, glancing toward the laird, who was, indeed, wiping his fingers on his tunic as they spoke. "I'm sad for her loss, my bonny, but I am glad for the lessons she taught me that let me see that you are the heather on my hills." She smiled, leaning in close to kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry your own folk are not here to see you wed."

"I wish I could have met her," he said, that frown still in place. He wondered how much like her mother Juliana was, but he would likely never know. It saddened him that she had not been there to witness her daughter's wedding, and yet, Juliana seemed to find her presence in everyday life. He wished he could say the same for his own mother, whom he rarely mentioned but missed just as dearly. "I wish both our mothers could have been here," he said, turning his face into her kiss.

This time, Juliana ignored the raucous cheer that went up from their fellows as Joslin kissed her, leaning into the affectionate touch to return that kiss just as tenderly in spite of their audience. It set the scene for the meal that followed - there was no formality, but rather, a more focused kind of kinship. Even the knights from Francia, who should have felt out of place among such a relaxed gathering of so many different ranks of society, were cajoled into telling stories and jokes, sharing their cups with the men and women sat around them as the afternoon wore on into the early gathering dusk.

Joslin and Juliana engaged in the frivolity, but as the afternoon wore on into evening and dusk gathered, the knight was anxious to have his lady to himself and to at last claim her as his once and for all, not only in word and mind and heart, but in body, as well. And so it was that just after dusk, he found a moment to tug her aside, away from the stories and jokes and drinking and dancing, with a nod of his head toward the exit and a sly, teasing smile that hinted at his meaning and intentions.

A few eyes saw them go, sharing knowing glances over their cups and nothing more, as Juliana disappeared through the door with her husband, giggling like a child playing hide and seek. "Have you had enough of the dancing, my bonny?" she teased him through her wide smile, her hands cradling his cheeks as she kissed him in the dark stillness of great stairwell.

"I would prefer to dance with you in private, ma petite," he replied with a smile, settling his hands to her hips and returning her kiss. Married or not, he could never get enough of her kisses. He was trembling just a little, filled with nervous excitement. Though he was no virgin, he had never loved anyone the way he loved her and wanted to make sure everything was perfect.

Her lips parted in a bright smile as she leaned into him. "You'll have to teach me the steps," she warned him, buoyed up enough by the wine they had been drinking not to be a blushing, trembling mess of nerves herself. "But first ....you'll have to catch me!" Wriggling out of his grip, she hitched up her skirts and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time in a fruitless attempt to stay ahead of her husband.

He had planned on carrying his blushing bride up the stairs and to her room - their room - but it seemed she had other plans. He groaned in feigned agony as she slipped away from him and darted up the stairs. He reached out to catch her, but she was too quick for him, or he was too far gone in his cups to keep up with her, and he clumsily stumbled after her to follow her up the stairs.

Thankfully for both of them, Juliana had been moved from her accustomed tower room to the largest of the guest rooms which was now a bridal bed chamber. Laughing like a particularly cheeky fishwife, she staggered just ahead of her husband to the top of the stairs, catching hold of the railing to keep herself upright as she giggled, looking back over her shoulder at him.

Despite his half-drunken clumsiness, his long legs caught up with her just as she reached the top of the stairs, and he caught her around the waist to fling her over his shoulder, losing his bearings and turning in the opposite direction of the bridal bed chamber. "Ha! You will have to be faster than that to escape me ....wife!" he declared, not realizing he was headed in the wrong direction.

Being thrown over his shoulder brought a fresh round of giggles from Juliana's lips - giggles that deepened into full laughter when she realized that they were going the wrong way. Laughing too hard to speak, she tapped him in the small of the back, trying to splutter out a correction before they ended up in his friend's quarters instead.

"'Tis too late to argue now!" he scolded merrily as he lugged her along the hallway toward the wrong room. "You are mine now to do with as I wish!" he declared cheekily, patting her bottom fondly. If she didn't stop him soon, they would end up in the wrong chambers - hopefully, they wouldn't be interrupting anything.

"I - I'll be arguing if we end up in your friend's bed!" she finally managed to splutter out between her giggles, fully aware that the deep blush on her cheeks had nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with the familiar pat of his hand on her backside. "Jos ..." She prodded him in the back, feet kicking to get his attention. "Our rooms are at the other end of this gallery, you impatient ninny!"

He laughed, thinking she was teasing him again. "How would we end up in ..." He trailed off, as he seemed to suddenly realize where they were headed. "Oui, I knew that!" he insisted, though, of course, he had not. He'd been too impatient and too much in a hurry to get her to bed to realize he'd made the wrong turn. He turned himself back around, careful not to whack her against the wall and started back in the right direction toward the rooms that would serve as the bridal chamber. "And I am not a ninny! I am a Knight of the Realm and your lord and husband."

"Aye, you are my laird and husband, a knight of the realm, and you're a great bonny ninny when you're in your cups," she laughed, protecting her head as he turned about to go back in the direction he had come. "But I love you anyway, so where's the complaint?" Taking her courage into her hands, she patted him on the backside as he bore her along the gallery, snickering softly at her own daring.

"At least I'm not an ugly ninny," he replied with a chuckle as he steered them both toward the guest room that would serve as a bridal chamber. He brooked no argument about whether he was or wasn't in his cups. He didn't seem to be having any trouble carrying her across his shoulder - it was only the direction of the room that confused him. "Are you enjoying the view?" he teased, smirking at the pat to his rear.

"Oui ....Yes," he replied, making a conscious effort to speak her language, rather than his own. His gaze wandered over her form, though the loose-fitting shift revealed little more than the dress had. Still, he had never seen her quite this undressed before, and he longed to touch her smooth, pale skin and see what further loveliness was hiding beneath her shift. And yet, there he was, still fully dressed, and he wondered if he should return the favor. "You are so lovely, Juliana," he told her, his heart thumping in his chest as he drew her close once again, letting his lips, at least, touch her neck, trailing kisses along her bare flesh.

She gasped as his lips touched her neck, the sudden shocking reality of that closeness setting a whirlwind dancing deep inside her that brought out an anxious, fidgeting sense of impatience with it. Her fingers twitched to the laces on his tunic, finishing the job they had begun moments before as she turned her head, daring to answer his kisses with her own, trailing her lips against his jaw and neck. "I love you, Jos," she whispered to him, startled by how breathless she seemed, how eager she was to complete what they had begun.

"I love you, Jules," he whispered back, just getting started in awakening her body to the wonders them both. He wanted to take his time with her, to learn every part of her, to learn what made her sigh and moan. The night was young, and now that they were husband and wife, there was no one to stop them. He drew the tunic over his head and tossed it aside before drawing her down to the bed. He couldn't help but notice her eagerness for his touch, for his kisses, as eager for him as he was for her, or so it seemed. He tugged the slippers from her feet, and worked his way up her body, exploring her slowly with hands and lips and tongue, not only for his own pleasure but for hers.

Whatever they shared, she was certain that there was magic in him. He had awakened a part of her she had thought must have been lost over the years, drawing from her the courage to act as she wished, to touch and kiss in a gentle counter-melody to the song he played on her singing body. Quite how they got there, she could not recall clearly even years later, but when at last they came together beneath the sheets, Juliana felt that last missing piece of herself snap sharply into place. This was what had been missing from her heart - not the mere physical manifestation of desire, but the tenderness of being held in the arms of a man she loved, who loved her enough to send her reeling into unexpected bliss.

He took his time with her, savoring every moment, sharing every kiss, every caress, until they were both trembling and breathless in each other's arms. Though he had bedded other women before, but all of them were forgettable when compared to his Juliana. There was no other word for how he felt at that moment but blissful. Now he understood why they called it wedded bliss. There was no other feeling like it, nothing else that could compare. He sighed contently as he held her in his arms, their bodies aching and echoing with the warmth of their love. Like her, he knew this was precisely what he'd been missing all his life - she was the missing piece that made his heart and his life whole and complete.

For a long time, there was no sound but their shared breaths, the sound of Joslin's heart beating beneath Juliana's ear. She had never felt so satisfied before; a beautiful lethargy spreading through every part of her body as she lolled in her husband's arms. But she wouldn't be the woman he loved if she did not say what was on the tip of her tongue. Raising her head, she offered Jos a shy, teasing smile. "So ....when does it hurt, then?"

He lifted his head, blond brows arching curiously, as he turned onto his side to look down on her. "It did not hurt?" he asked, looking equally doubtful and amazed. There would be blood on the sheets come morning, if there wasn't already, he knew - or at least, it was likely there would be, proof that she had never laid with a man before him, though it hardly mattered.

She blinked, shaking her head against the pillow as she met his gaze. "No, I felt nae hurt," she told him softly, worry touching her expression. "I thought t'was because you are so good with me. I swear, love, I was a maid before this night, truly."

He did not doubt her word, but was only in wonder that their lovemaking had not caused her any pain. Perhaps this, too, was a gift from the Goddess. If so, he owed her so much. "I do not know, but I tried to be gentle. I am only glad I did not cause you pain," he told her, touching a kiss to her lips before settling down beside her once again and gathering her into his arms. "I wish this night would never end," he admitted quietly, for her ears alone.

Her smile was relieved as he reassured her, finding it only too easy to settle into the circle of his arms, despite the blush on her cheeks for the unfamiliar sensation of his skin against hers. It would take time to grow used to that, no doubt. "I am not so eager for it to last forever," she murmured back to him. "I would not wish to be frozen in time. We have every night to come - aye, and every day, too. I would rather grow with you than be caught in stillness as though you may be snatched away from me."

"I would never willingly leave you, but I am a knight, and I have my duty. When we return to Arindale, His Grace will decide what is to become of me. I have lost my friends, my brothers-in-arms. I do not know what duty awaits me, but whatever that duty is, I will always come home to you," he told her, nestling his head close to hers.

"I know, my bonny," she assured him softly, though she did not like to think of where that duty might take him someday. "I shall make you a home you will always wish to return to, I swear, and we shall fill it with little bonnies like their father to welcome you home each time."

"And petites filles like their mother," he added with a smile as he touched his forehead to hers, close enough to share breath. "You should sleep, ma cherie," he told her quietly. "It is a long way to Arindale." And once there, he would trade places with her brother, who would return home to Darroch with Justine presumably in tow. He hoped the two of them would understand and forgive them for being impatient, but he was glad they had decided to wed in Darroch. "I wish I were a poet, so I could tell you how I feel," he whispered quietly.

"Och, I don't need pretty words," she told him tenderly. "All I need is you to look at me, and I see what hasn't been said." She kissed him softly, once on his lips, and again over his heart, nestling close to let the lazy pull of sleep wash over her. Content and loved, she smiled as her eyes closed, one last breath bearing with it all that needed to be said. "I love you, husband."

He leaned over, just long enough to blow out the candle before settling back down beside her, his arms going around her protectively, lovingly. She had saved him in more ways than one, and now it was his turn to take care of her, to love her and protect her all the days of his life, no matter what awaited them. "I love you, wife," he replied, just as quietly, feeling her body relaxing against his, her breath soft and steady as she drifted to sleep. "Toujours et pour toujours, mon bien-aime," he whispered, touching a kiss to her hair before letting his own eyes drift closed, warm and content in her embrace.

((So, after being patient and well-behaved for at least a month, Joslin and Juliana are married. Here's hoping Bryce and Justine won't try to kill them when they reach Arindale! And huge, enormously throbbing thanks to my partner in crime!))