Ewan couldn’t look awayfrom Maia. Couldn’t do anything but watch her approach, his heart hammering in his chest, his hands clenched at his sides to keep from reaching for her before she’d even reached him.
Finally—finally—shewas standing before him, and Mollie was stepping back, and there was nothing between them but air and promise and love.
“Hi,”Maia whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
“Hi, Me lady.”Ewan whispered back and felt Leon elbow him in the ribs, probably to remind him that there was an actual ceremony to get through.
The priest stepped forward,an elderly man who’d served Clan McGill for decades.
“Dearly beloved,”he began, but Ewan barely heard the words. He was too focused on Maia, on the way she was looking at him, as if he were something precious, as if he were worth all the love shining in her grey eyes.
The ceremony passedin a blur of traditional words and responses. Ewan spoke his vows clearly, his voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm him. Maia’s voice shook slightly on hers, but she never looked away from his face.
Then came the handfasting.
The priest brought forwarda length of cloth in McGill colors and another in MacMahon colors, twisted together to symbolize the joining of two clans. Ewan held out his hand, and Maia placed hers in it, their fingers intertwining naturally.
The priest wrappedthe cloth around their joined hands, binding them together as he spoke the ancient words.
“Ye are bound now,hand and heart, for as long as love shall last. What is bound here cannot be broken by any force save death itself.”
Ewan feltthe weight of those words, the promise in them. He squeezed Maia’s hand gently, and she squeezed back.
“Ye may kiss yer bride,”the priest said, stepping back with a smile.
Ewan didn’t needto be told twice. He pulled Maia close, careful of their bound hands, and kissed her. Soft and sweet at first, then deeper as applause and cheers erupted around them.
When they finally pulled apart,both breathless, Maia was laughing.
“We’re married,”she said, wonder in her voice. “We’re actually married.”
“Aye.”Ewan pressed his forehead to hers. “Ye’re stuck with me now, lass. Forever.”
“Good,”Maia whispered. “Forever sounds perfect.”
The ceilidh wasin full swing; the great hall transformed into a space of music and laughter and dancing.
Ewan had dancedwith Maia for the first dance—a traditional Scottish reel that left them both breathless and laughing—and then had been forced to share her with what felt like every man in the clan who wanted to congratulate the bride.
Now he stoodat the edge of the hall, watching Maia dance with Kian. The boy was trying his best to keep up with the steps, and Maia was patiently guiding him, both of them grinning.
“She’s good with him,”Leon observed, appearing at Ewan’s elbow with two cups of whisky. “Good with everyone, really. The clan loves her already.”
“Aye.”Ewan accepted the cup, taking a sip. “She’s everythin’ I never knew I needed.”
“Ye’re disgustingly happy,”Leon said, but there was fondness in his tone. “It’s actually a bit nauseatin’ to watch.”
“Jealous?”
“Terrified,”Leon corrected. “Because if even ye can find love and happiness, that means there’s hope for the rest of us. And I was quite comfortable with me bachelor status, thank ye very much.”
Ewan laughed.“Yer time will come, friend.”
“God, I hope nae.”But Leon was smiling as he said it, his gaze tracking Aisla as she danced past with one of the younger warriors.
The song ended,and Maia extracted herself from Kian with a hug and a kiss to his forehead. The boy ran off to join his friends, and Maia made her way through the crowd toward Ewan.
She was flushed from dancing,her hair coming loose from its pins, and she’d never looked more beautiful.
