He sounded like an authority on the subject.
“I’ll consider smoothing things over with her. But that’s enough about me, I think. What about you?”
She looked over at him to see thoughtful contemplation crossing his face. “I had a bad relationship breakup, too.”
“Oh?” That intrigued her.
“My da wanted me to marry MacDonald’s daughter. We were handfasted but it dinnae work out.”
“No?” She titled her head to the side, her curiosity piqued.
He cut her a glance. “Are ye familiar with handfasting?”
She shook her head.
“When a man and woman wish to wed—or pledge themselves to each other for a time—their hands are bound together with a length of cord. It shows their lives are now entwined. They speak their vows witnessed by their kin, and for a year and a day they live together as man and wife. At year’s end, they can part, if they wish.”
His words whispered around her, warmth curling through her chest. Handfasting—an unbreakable bond, a promise sealed with a knotted cord. The thought slipped in before she could stop it. Jamie’s hands covering hers, the rough brush of his calloused fingers, the steady weight of his gaze as they spoke the vows.
Ridiculous. She barely knew him. And yet, the idea lingered, unsettling and impossible to shake.
“It sounds like an old-fashioned wedding. That’s kind of beautiful, actually. What happens if they don’t wish to part from each other?”
“Then they are bound together for all eternity, making a true lasting marriage.”
It sounded like a fairy tale—dreamy, romantic, the kind of vow that actually meant something. Not like the farce she’d lived through, standing under the flickering neon glow of a Vegas chapel, a rhinestone-studded Elvis declaring her married. Her stomach twisted. She refused to let that man’s name stain her thoughts, not even for a second. That part of her life wasdead and buried.
But the thing that scared and surprised her the most was…she wanted the fairy tale with Jamie. For once in her life, she wanted that dreamy romantic vow.
“Is that how my sisters were married? They were handfasted?” she asked.
“Aye.”
Why did a pang of jealousy stab her? She quickly shoved that aside.
“You said it didn’t work out. I assume you two parted ways?” she asked, still interested in hearing the rest of his story.
“She was a cold, frigid bitch so I returned her to her da and broke the handfasting.”
It sounded like he had gone through his own version of divorce. It seemed they had something in common.
“Her da dinnae take too kindly to that. ’Tis one reason our clans’ feud. That and he wants the wee keystone.”
“So, breaking up with this woman started a war between your families?”
“More or less,” he said, sheepishly.
She laughed, suddenly feeling a little better about her situation. At least her divorce hadn’t started any wars.
*
Jamie wasn’t surewhy he’d felt free to tell her about Margaret MacDonald. But seeing her eyes light up and hearing her melodious laugh made it all worthwhile.
He was unwilling to go back to the castle yet. He enjoyed her company far too much. When he finished his perimeter check of the castle, he continued to keep her close to him. She followed without question, seemingly content to ride side by side.
She’d looked so sad standing outside the keep, he was compelled to do something to make her smile. He’d shown her the borders oftheir land and talked a lot about growing up with his older brothers. About losing his mother when he was born and his sister succumbing to a fever. About his da being killed in battle with Rory MacDonald.
“After I returned Margaret to her clan, my da was so furious he packed me up and sent me on travels with my uncle.”
