Halvard’s gaze softened as he gave her a small smile. “Impossible.”
It should have terrified her. Instead, warmth spread through her chest, slow and undeniable.
“Yes,” she said, before she could think better of it. “Yes, I do.”
Behind them, Sten lingered, walking idly back and forth as he waited for them to finish their conversation. If he had heard any of it, he gave no indication of it.
“I need ye,” Halvard said.
Sten looked between them, taking in their expressions, and slowly grinned. “About damn time.”
The chapel smelled of stone and candlewax. It was empty save for an elderly priest who looked up in surprise as they entered, his lined face breaking into a gentle smile when Halvard spoke to him in low, respectful tones. The man listened, his eyes brightening with something like quiet delight.
Elsie’s hands trembled as she clasped them together. Her heart beat so loudly she was certain they could all hear it.
“Stand ye here,” the priest said, gesturing to the worn flagstones before the altar. “And face one another.”
They stood before the altar—no rail, no ornamentation, only rough-hewn wood polished smooth by generations of prayer. Sunlight slipped through a narrow window, illuminating dust motes that danced like tiny stars.
Sten took his place next to them, solemn now, his expression uncharacteristically tender.
The priest began the ceremony in a hushed, reverent voice. He spoke of the land and the sea, of vows that bound not only twosouls but families, futures, and fate itself. His words were slow and deliberate, carrying the weight of centuries.
Halvard turned to her fully then. The light caught in his blond hair, in the faint scar along his cheek. When his eyes met hers, something steadied inside her.
The priest lifted his hands.
“Dearly beloved,” he began, the words warm and measured, shaped by a hundred years of mouths before his own, “we are gathered in the sight o’ Almighty God, an’ afore this company, tae join this man an’ this woman in the holy estate o’ matrimony. It is an honorable bond, ordained o’ God, signifyin’ the unity that should be betwixt Christ an’ His kirk.”
His gaze settled on Halvard first.
“Halvard, Laird MacLeod,” he said, “will ye take this woman, Elsie Montgomery, tae be yer wedded wife? Will ye love her, comfort her, honor an’ keep her, in sickness an’ in health, in prosperity an’ adversity, forsakin’ all others, an’ cleave unto her so long as ye both shall live?”
Halvard’s answer came without falter.
“I will,” he said, his voice low and unyielding as the hills of his home.
The priest turned then to Elsie.
“Elsie Montgomery,” he said, “will ye take this man, Halvard MacLeod, tae be yer wedded husband? Will ye obey an’ serve him in love an’ faith, keep him in honor, an’ walk beside him in all the days appointed tae ye, so long as ye both shall live?”
Elsie swallowed in a dry throat, the words ancient and heavy, yet strangely comforting in their certainty.
“I will,” she said, softly but clear.
The priest nodded once.
“Then give me yer hands.”
Halvard reached for her, his hand enclosing hers fully, warm and sure. His fingers bore the marks of battle and labor alike, yet they trembled, just slightly, as he held her.
The priest wrapped his stole loosely around their joined hands.
“What God hath joined this day,” he said, “let nay man put asunder.”
He spoke the blessing then, invoking the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, his voice rising and falling like a tide against the shore. When he finished, he lowered his hands and smiled.
“I pronounce ye man an’ wife,” he said. “In the name o’ God an’ by the laws o’ this realm.”
