The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie(100)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

So many things had happened between her finding Daniel shot in the kitchen in Montmartre and Violet standing at the end of the crowded ballroom, guests turning expectantly as she walked in on Cameron’s arm.

They’d won the uphill race at Nice in Daniel’s newly repaired motorcar, Violet driving it to victory. They’d returned to Berkshire, where Cameron and Daniel threw themselves into training the horses, and Violet became swept up in that as well. She traveled with the family to the opening race in Newmarket and realized that this was the first of many times she’d come here with the Mackenzies. This was part of Daniel’s life, and now she was part of it too.

Then they’d gone to Kilmorgan, where Violet had stood a full minute after she stepped out of the carriage to stare at the vast house in shock. She’d learned quickly, though, that the large place warmed when filled with the entire family, ten children, and six dogs.

Daniel would not talk about how he’d injured himself again in Paris, why his hands were a skinned mess and his chest had to be restitched. Only once did Daniel mention where he’d gone to get into such a state, and that was on the train after Nice and the hill race.

“This chap with the red beard,” he’d mentioned casually as he and Violet sat alone in a first-class compartment. “You’ll never have to worry about him again. I hear he’s dead.”

“Dead.” Everything around Violet seemed to stop, despite the train rushing onward.

Daniel leaned back in the seat, as casual as ever, a glass of his favorite whiskey in his hand. “Apparently he ran illegal roulette rooms in Paris. His other crimes included usury and extortion, plus involvement in a few murders of gentlemen who couldn’t pay him back. He got himself killed while resisting arrest, I heard. I had this from my uncle Fellows, who was there.”

Daniel was lying to her. Blatantly and glibly. He was aware Violet knew he was lying, and he didn’t care.

The red-bearded man was gone. No matter how it had happened, the result was the same.

Violet wasn’t certain what she felt—relief, triumph? Nothing. Or maybe something. But she was numb.

It was over. Daniel had made certain of it, whatever he’d done. For her.

Violet kissed him softly, lifted his glass of whiskey and took a sip herself, then snuggled down onto his shoulder.

Now Violet stood in the decorated ballroom, her hand on Cameron Mackenzie’s arm. The tall Cameron would lead her down the aisle to Daniel.

Ian Mackenzie waited next to Daniel, having agreed to be his groomsman. While they’d still been in Paris, waiting for Daniel to heal, Ian had pulled Violet aside. “You kept him safe,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Safe?” Violet shook her head. “I got him shot. I did everything but keep him safe.”

“He lived because of you. He did everything for you.” Ian paused, glancing away as though gathering his thoughts before looking directly at Violet, his golden eyes like a flash of sunlight. “He needs someone to live for. Not just inventions.”

Violet tried a smile. “His inventions are very important to him.”

Ian’s expression didn’t change. “Family is more important. Now you are his family.”

And that was the end of the discussion.

The guests in the ballroom turned as Violet walked past them. They were all members of the family, or close friends and neighbors. No one else, Daniel had said severely. This was to be a private occasion, no showing off to the world.

For the private occasion, the ballroom was packed. Most of the guests were Mackenzies, the room filled with blue and green plaid. Some were McBrides, Ainsley’s brothers—the four of them and their families at the front of the room. Celine was there with Ainsley, looking ready to dissolve into tears.

Daniel had given the house in London he’d bought from Mortimer to Celine, who had been gushingly grateful. Celine planned to keep sitting the séances, she said, with Mary’s help. Her timely vision of Daniel needing help had made her more eager than ever to share her gift.

Bagpipes sang Violet down the aisle. Mackenzie clan members watched her come—tall men with hair every shade of red from darkest auburn to bright carrot. The Mackenzie, the clan chief, a straight and tall man with white hair, made Violet a bow as she walked by.

But when Daniel smiled at Violet as she stopped beside him, nothing else mattered. The warmth of Daniel, the gleam in his eyes, was the only thing Violet needed. He’d saved her life.

The bishop began. The ceremony wound its way along, and Violet made the correct responses, barely hearing herself. Only the words of the vows mattered—Violet plighting her troth to Daniel, he promising to care for her until the end.

Then she was wed. Daniel lifted the veil from Violet’s face and kissed her.

The crowd behind them let out whoops and screams. Pipes played, children shrieked, and shouts and laughter rang out.

The festivities began. There was the wedding feast, laid out across several rooms. Then dancing and flowing whiskey, the party lasting through the afternoon and on into the night.

Violet laid aside her veil and joined in the Scottish dances that Ainsley and Eleanor had taught her. Violet loved dancing alongside Daniel, holding hands with him, or threading through the other dancers in the line. The pipes, fiddles, and drums were energizing, the room filled with joy. At one point, Daniel was coaxed into doing a sword dance, which he performed with athletic grace. Then Jamie Mackenzie performed it, showing the same grace and skill, to the delight of all, and Ian’s pride.

“He’s a good lad,” Ian said to Violet, squeezing her hand hard. “My son. He’s happy.” The last was said with even more pride.

The Mackenzie children stayed awake long past their bedtimes, until they dropped off one by one. Gavina and Stuart begged to be allowed to have Violet and Daniel carry them up to bed, and Violet happily concurred. Violet too was wearying, though she was pleasantly tired, not exhausted.

“’Tis not really for us,” Daniel said, as he climbed to the nursery beside Violet. Stuart was already asleep on his shoulder, his golden red hair tousled, though Gavina resolutely kept her eyes open. “The wedding of a clan member reassures the others of the continuation of the clan. At least that’s the excuse for all the drinking and dancing.” Daniel winked. “And other things, as the night goes on. My family is not prudish.”

Violet laid Gavina in her bed in the large nursery, while Daniel tended to Stuart. Violet leaned down and kissed Gavina good night.