“I will,” she said. There wasn’t any doubt in her—not in her words nor in her heart. There was still a touch of fear, yes. She didn’t know where this marriage would take them. But she knew her path. It was clear before her.
There were more questions.
I will, Ewan answered each time.I will, Ailsa said in turn.
Each utterance tied them together, a thin thread that, in sum, made an indestructible tether.
She didn’t want it destroyed, she found with amazement. She held on to Ewan’s hands and feltsafe. For the first time in so long, she felt safe.
“I now pronounce ye man and wife,” the priest intoned.
When Ewan moved toward her, it was with none of the hasty passion of their previous kisses. This kiss wasn’t an impulse; it was achoice. It was a declaration that the two of them were one, now, that they would face whatever came next together.
Ailsa felt the weight of that promise as Ewan’s lips pressed to hers.
And as the crowd erupted in cheers, she felt a smile break out across her face.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ewan could not stop lookingat his wife. Every time he did, a fierce sense of satisfaction coursed through him.
Bloodyfinally. Ailsa Donaghey—nay, AilsaBuchanan, thank the saints—was his.
They’d said their vows before God and man. She was his wife. His to guard, to cherish.
And, right now, his to admire.
She looked beautiful, his Ailsa, even in a dress that hadn’t been made for her. The cream silk of the bodice and overskirt brought out the softness of her complexion, while the green underskirt made her hazel eyes flash brighter than ever. And the touches of his family’s plaid…
Well, they’d made him have to fight against kissing herbeforethe ceremony, rather than waiting for after the vows were said. That had become all the more challenging when he’d seen that she was wearing his family crest, as well—theirfamily crest, now.
He leaned against a wall, sipping idly at a glass of whisky, as he watched her graciously accept thanks and congratulations from his people. She smiled at them, greeted them by name.When a child tugged at her skirts, she bent down to speak to the wee lad.
She would be a good lady to his people. She would be a good mother to his bairns.
He banished that thought before his body took note of it. The idea of watching Ailsa swell with a babe was not the kind of thing he could dwell upon in public, not if he wished to retain any part of his dignity.
Still, he liked the thought of Ailsa as his. Nobody could take her from him now.
He liked it even more when, as his father stood to make a toast, Ailsa politely disengaged herself from her conversation with several clansfolk and crossed to his side.
Where she belonged.
“Today,” Ewan’s father said as Ailsa tucked herself under Ewan’s arm, as naturally as if she’d been doing it for a thousand years, “is an auspicious day. It comes to us off inauspicious tides, aye.”
There was a low, furious murmur throughout the room, one that gave Ewan a rush of pride in his people, too. They were furious about Finlay Gordon’s attack and appalling demand that the Donaghey sisters be turned over. That fury had only grown now that Ailsa was officially one of their own number.
“But the day itself,” the laird went on, keeping control of the room, “is a blessing.”
He turned to Ailsa, and the rest of the clan followed suit. Ewan felt her shoulders straighten as she took in their regard.
As the Buchanan Clan took in their future lady.
“I have long hoped that today might arrive,” Phileas said, and there was no censure in his tone. “And am naught but overjoyed that it has.” He raised his glass. “Welcome, daughter.”
The assembled crowd murmured their own welcomes, then drank in celebration. Though it was bad luck, Ewan didn’t raisehis own drink to his lips. He was too distracted by Ailsa, whom he had felt flinch, however minutely, when Phileas had saiddaughter.
Shame pricked at Ewan. He’d spent these past days worrying about the future; about the war to come, and about his marriage to this woman that he had so long desired.
