“As pretty as a picture,” her aunt said proudly.
Wulfric took in the sight and her scent alongside me.
We were here—together. Surrounded by her kin. Our mate was happy. There was no lingering sorrow.
This was a celebration.
“We’re getting married tomorrow,” I told Callum, never taking my eyes from her flushed pink cheeks.
She lifted her head—strong and proud—and her smile bloomed as her fingers tightened around mine.
There wasn’t a single protest in the room.
I kept her close—from the dinner table to observing the family games. We knew we could not be parted, not after last night and this morning.
The bond pulsed next to our hearts.
This was the true miracle of Christmas.
Chapter 32
Euphemia
My aunt and uncle paid no mind to his constant hand in mine, and for the first time all day, I could breathe easy. Ranald struggled with my decision, but he kept his displeasure to himself—though I grew wary when he tore into a piece of roasted goose while fixing Thaddeus with a murderous stare.
The feast was like nothing I had ever witnessed, not even the one we’d shared at Hogmanay. Morag had cooked everything the day before—roasted goose and beef with an array of vegetables. Her potatoes were rich with goose fat and seasoned to perfection. She’d also made mince pies and a spiced plum pudding, one I had never tasted before.
Everyone ate well, but my greatest joy came from watching Angus and Hamish’s wee faces when they first laid eyes on the dining table.
I squeezed Thaddeus’s thigh beneath it in silent gratitude. His eyes flickered from blue to gold between blinks before his hand covered mine.
My family were proud, stubborn people, but the warmth and generosity of the meal softened everyone—everyone except Ranald. That didn’t stop him from gorging on the food though. I couldn’t help but laugh at his disposition.
He was torn—my poor brother.
Thaddeus plied my aunt and uncle with brandy and mulled wine. It wasn’t until the meal had ended and we sat back to watch the children play that he casually suggested they stay the night—for the children, of course.
A devilish ploy we both approved of.
Madadh wasn’t ready to leave his side, and she quietened at once when my aunt agreed. The walk back to the croft was short, but Aunt Flora seemed far too merry for it by then.
Uncle Callum simply refilled his glass and said nothing.
Surprisingly, Ranald continued to play with Moire, offering no complaint at all.
Thaddeus threaded his fingers through mine, and I leaned my head against his shoulder.
At last, Madadh sighed and settled.
There was no fretting now—no ache, no restless pull toward our mate. Perhaps she, too, had been waiting for my family to accept us.
? ? ?
Madadh wasn’t usually this restless. She surged and paced in short, uneven beats that only grew stronger. I paused in the hallway.
Do you want to be outside? I asked.
She surged again.
