Dagger Magic

At a pace both stately and efficient, the first car eased to a stop at the foot of the steps and disgorged the bride's aunt and uncle and both mothers. Adam welcomed them graciously, deftly directing them to one side as the first car was replaced by the second, which carried the best man, Julia's matron of honor, and the two little flower girls. Other family members followed in the third car, and the tardy photographer bailed out of a hastily parked Volkswagen van and began setting up. As the newcomers availed themselves of champagne and joined the rest of the wedding guests beginning to congregate closer to the entrance to the house, the bridal car appeared at the far end of the drive and made its slow approach.

Rather than another hired Daimler, it was Adam's own classic Mark VI Bentley that carried the newlyweds, lent for the occasion along with Adam's valet-butler, Humphrey, in his well-accustomed alternate role as chauffeur. Though Humphrey rarely displayed much emotion, as befitted his station as manservant in a distinguished household, Adam thought he detected more than a hint of a smile on Humphrey's normally impassive face as he brought the big blue car to a smooth halt in front of the steps and came around to open the door.

"Oh, don't they make a handsome couple?" Janet murmured as the kilted Peregrine handed his bride out of the car, to a smattering of applause from the assembled guests. "And Julia's gown is absolutely stunning!"

The gown in question was an Edwardian confection of creamy silk taffeta, with wide skirts billowing from around Julia's tiny waist. Antique lace framed the wide neckline and frilled the puffed sleeves at the elbow, and dozens of tiny buttons marched down the back of the close-fitting bodice to a bustle-effect above a modest train. In keeping with the romantic mood set by the gown, Julia had pulled back her red-gold curls in a cascade caught at the crown, with a wreath of creamy-yellow silk roses securing her veil. Peregrine's cobalt-blue velvet doublet was frothed at the throat with an heirloom lace jabot, above a kilt of brown and blue and green - the hunting sett of his customary Fraser of Lovat tartan.

"Oh, I do love weddings!" Janet declared as the pair kissed for the photographer's benefit. "One of these days, Adam, I hope to see you getting out of that car with a lovely bride on your arm."

Adam shot her a forbearing smile and returned his gaze to the bridal couple, now posing for a more conventional photograph with Humphrey, beside the car. He hoped Janet was not going to bring up the subject of Ximena. On this day, of all days, he did not need reminding of his own domestic frustrations. A physician himself, he had met Dr. Ximena Lockhart in a hospital emergency room, after sustaining minor injuries in a car crash some eighteen months ago. Despite this inauspicious beginning, which had proven to connect with one of the highly unofficial investigations he pursued from time to time with the local police - and which had even brought Ximena herself into danger - his relationship with the lissom, dark-haired American had flourished in the next six months, leading both of them to begin entertaining serious thoughts of marriage.

But news of her father's terminal illness had summoned Ximena back to California the previous summer to nurse him in his final months - which now had stretched on to nearly a year. Adam could not begrudge them the time together, but he still cherished hopes that, when all was resolved, she might be moved to return to Scotland. Meanwhile, he must not let his own nostalgia for her company darken his enjoyment of Peregrine Lovat's wedding day.

The said Peregrine was looking very pleased with himself as he led his bride up the steps of Strathmourne, hazel eyes shining behind his gold-rimmed spectacles, the fair hair slightly breeze-ruffled. Behind them, Humphrey took the Bentley silently off to its garage in the stableyard, and ahead of them, beyond Adam, Anderson and his young partner came to attention and brought their swords smartly to salute.

"Welcome to Strathmourne, Mrs. Lovat," Adam said, gallant words to match his dark good looks and courtly manners as he bent smiling over her hand in a graceful swirl of red Sinclair tartan.

After clasping Peregrine's hand in more hearty congratulation, he invited the pair of them to follow him into the house. The swordsmen remained at salute until he had passed through the arched doorway, then smartly extended the blades in a sword arch for the happy couple, to the obvious approval of the wedding guests.

"Well done," came a murmured commendation from a distinguished-looking older man with a military moustache.