But they found Ewan easily enough. He stood with the rest of the Brotherhood—Andrew, Rafe, and Alex.
Their friends smiled as they approached.
“Lass!” Ewan boomed. “Are we tae call ye Jamie or Eilidh now?”
“Och, Ewan Campbell, I will always be Jamie tae yourself.”
Eilidh laughed and threw her arms around Ewan’s waist, hugging him. She quickly recounted how the fireworks had ignited the return of many of her memories.
“Jamie!” Andrew grinned, opening his arms and all but lifting her off the ground. “It’s good tae have ye back.”
Alex smiled and kissed her cheek. “Welcome back, lass.”
“Glad you’re here to set Kieran straight,” Rafe laughed, squeezing her shoulders.
Of course, once Kieran and his wife—or soon-to-be-wife-in-truth-this-time—explained what they wished, their friends whooped and clapped their hands.
Ewan instantly pulled hissgian dubhfrom his stocking and sliced a strip from the wrapped edge of his kilt.
When Kieran raised his eyebrows, Ewan snorted. “Ye dinnae think we’d use anything other than Jamie’s tartan tae bind your handfasting, did ye?”
Waving goodbye to the last of the guests, Ewan pulled them all into the private, parterre garden.
Like on that beach in Sydney over six years ago, Kieran and Eilidh once more plighted their troth and fasted their hands together.
Only this time, the entire Brotherhood was present.
This time, Jamie pulled her wedding ring from its chain around her neck, wiping tears as Kieran slid it onto her finger.
This time, Alex wrote down their vows on a sheet of foolscap that they signed and the rest of the Brotherhood witnessed.
This time, Andrew would see their vows delivered to the local sheriff and entered into the county marriage registry.
This time, Miss Eilidh Fyffe was Kieran’s for keeps.
The Brotherhood cheered and clapped when Kieran capped their vows by kissing his lovely wife.
They whistled and cheered again as Eilidh took Kieran by the hand and led him toward Kilmeny Castle.
As they crested the hill leading down to the castle, the pinks and oranges of sunrise bled over the horizon. The sun never left for long this time of year.
The path was a silvery ribbon of light as Eilidh pulled Kieran along faster and faster until they were both nearly running.
“Mrs. MacTavish, some might call ye overly-eager,” he laughed.
She gave him a mischievous look.
“But that person will never be myself,” he continued.
She paused and tugged him to her. “I love you, Kieran MacTavish.”
“I love ye,mo chridhe.”
He kissed her once, twice.
And then they ran down the path, her wee hand in his.
The sun peeked over the horizon, sending a burst of rays across the ocean.
