Graham had spent those weeks playing chaperone with a competence and fervor that had amused and frustrated Eilidh in turn. Every time she’d tried to have a few moments alone with her betrothed, Graham would suddenly be there.
“What does he think is going to happen?” Eilidh had grumbled one evening while she and Ciaran had played a chaste—which was to say,boring—game of cards while Graham glowered at them from across the room.
Ciaran had raised sly brows. “I think ye ken what he thinks is going to happen. It’s precisely whatwouldhappen if I had timealone with ye,” he said with just enough of a suggestive edge that Eilidh had spent the rest of the night blushing.
They had been, in short,longweeks. But now the day was here. They would be man and wife, never to be torn asunder again.
She could barely believe how incredible he looked as she entered the chapel on Graham’s arm. She paused in her approach down the long center of the church, looking at all the clansfolk who had come out to celebrate her union.
And beyond them, Ciaran, dressed in Gunn tartan and wearing the blue ceremonial armband that she had given to him that fateful night at Castle Dubh-Gheal, his spine straight and steady as it always was. It was the smile on his face, though, that took her breath away.
It was really happening. Her fairy tale reallywascoming true at long last.
Tears pricked in her eyes as her brother pressed a kiss to her cheek before clapping Ciaran on the shoulder. “If ye hurt her, I’ll make ye regret it,” her brother told her groom not at all discreetly.
But Ciaran’s eyes were locked on hers, so Eilidh could clearly see in his expression how much, despite Graham’s words, his small gesture of approval meant to her.
“Ye look so grand,” she murmured to him as the priest waited to begin.
“Me?” Ciaran huffed a laugh. “Ye look so beautiful that I can scarcely look at ye.”
Despite his words, though, he did not look away from her for so much as a second while the priest read the prayers and guided them through the vows. Looking into the certainty in her husband’s gaze, Eilidh realized that she’d had it all wrong.
This wasn’t a happy ending. It was a happy beginning.
There was a raucous cheer when the priest pronounced them man and wife, and more than a few whistles and cries of encouragement when Ciaran finally kissed his bride. But when the Laird of Clan Gunn knelt again before Graham and repeated the vow of fealty that he’d made privately back at Castle Dubh-Gheal, this time for all gathered to see, a respectful hush fell over the crowd.
“I, Ciaran Gunn, pledge my sword, my life, and my blood and that of my clan to Clan Donaghey,” his voice solemn yet serene.
Eilidh watched her husband vow to support her family forevermore and felt a rush of love overcome her so intensely that she didn’t know if she’d ever recover from it.
Not that she wanted to.
When all was said and done, Graham let out the first true grin that Eilidh had seen from him in weeks. Apparently he had been as eager to formalize the union between Ciaran and Eilidh as the couple themselves.
Well, not quite as eager, Eilidh reconsidered as Ciaran slipped his warm hand into hers.
“All right then,” Graham called, looking carefree enough that Eilidh was reminded of the boy he’d been before he’d gone away. “Enough of the solemn stuff, eh? Let’s show our bride and groom how we celebrate in the Highlands, shall we?”
This, of course, was met with the greatest cheer of all.
The feast that had been laid out in the Great Hall was rich with music and wine. Anyone who knew how to play an instrument took a turn, and there were scarcely any moments when at least half the room wasn’t dancing. Eilidh danced with Ciaran until they were both breathless, laughing with dizzy joy every time her husband growled at someone who so much aslookedas though he planned to ask Eilidh to dance.
He made allowances for Graham and Ewan, though reluctantly. And after each dance, Ciaran claimed several more for himself.
When Eilidh’s feet simply could not take another step, she leaned back against her husband in a corner of the room, watching the revelry. Davina was pink-cheeked with laughter over something Arran had just said, and Vaila was entertaining Ailsa and Ewan with some story while James looked on indulgently.
Lady Kirsty bustled over to them, all energy and clapping hands.
“Oh, I have never been so happy in all my days!” she declared, kissing Eilidh loudly on both cheeks, then offering the same treatment to Ciaran.
Ciaran looked disgruntled, though Eilidh felt him relax when she just laughed at his aunt’s antics. She felt that Kirsty was a kindred spirit and was endlessly charmed by the woman’s spirit.
“It would take a lass as fine as ye to tame my wayward nephew,” she praised Eilidh, clasping their hands together. “And ye, my lad.” She turned to Ciaran. “I have never been so proud of ye. I wish ye all the happiness in the world.”
She had thrown them both winks after that and gone off to dance with a grizzled old warrior who seemed unable to believe his luck at earning the attentions of the vivacious woman.
“She’s a madwoman, I swear,” Ciaran grumbled against her back.
