Ava did not know who moved first, only that the remaining inches between them began to vanish with shocking ease. Her lips parted when his gaze dropped to them. The whole world seemed to narrow to nothing but the warmth and air between them.
Then, a sharp knock sounded at the door, and they both went still.
A maid’s voice came through the wood, bright with excitement. “Me Laird, me Lady, the ceremony will start shortly.”
Reality rushed back all at once, thin and absurd.
Ciaran stepped back first. Ava’s skin still burned where his hand had been.
Neither spoke immediately.
“Are ye ready?” he asked, his voice just as gentle.
Ava swallowed, staring at the path to the door.“Aye,” she responded, her voice clear.
Maybe, justmaybe, there was hope for this marriage after all.
CHAPTER 9
Ciaran walkedinto the ceremony with Ava at his side.
It was the most unconventional thing, and he could tell from the looks they received.
Surprise rippled through the congregation in a low, visible stir. A bride and groom entering together was unusual, and the sight of them walking side by side, close enough that her sleeve brushed his now and then, confirmed to every watching eye that something had shifted between them beyond what had been publicly spoken.
Under different circumstances, he might have marked it. He might have even taken some grim satisfaction in the way heads turned and voices dipped.
He did not.
It felt wrong, and they all knew it did.
Their perception of him sat low in his gut, hard and steady. There were a lot of things in the hall he didn’t like, and for some reason, he never knew they would disturb him this much.
He did not like the spacing of the men near the outer edge or the way the wind carried sound away too quickly. He did not like the simple fact that on a day like this, with his wedding before him and half the clan gathered to witness it, his attention was focused on the terrible things that could happen instead.
Ava shifted beside him when they came to a halt. He was aware of her in the same way he remained aware of his own blade—constantly, without needing to turn toward it.
The altar had been prepared properly, with a clean pulpit and bright yellow flowers placed on both sides of the giant block while the guests stood in neat rows. He spotted faces he knew well—older kin, footmen, maids trying not to stare openly—all arranged beneath the order of ceremony.
It should have looked safe.
It did not.
The wedding thirteen years ago also looked safe, just like this in the beginning.
The priest began to speak before his fears could fester. Ciaran heard the words and let them pass through him withoutquestion. He knew the ritual more than anything. He had been to a lot of weddings, after all.
He let the knowledge take over as he did the actions. The joining of hands, the prayers, the cord laid ready. His attention, however, continued to spill to the edges of the ceremony.
He kept track of faces and narrowed in on the ones he didn’t know. He even counted exits and measured the way his guards moved around them.
Beside him, Ava remained as oblivious as ever. He could feel rather than see the tension in her, but he knew it wasn’t for the same reason. He registered her closeness all the same and let the fact that she stood within his reach soothe him.
Soon, the cord was wrapped around their joined hands, and the priest spoke the last blessing. The entire time, Ciaran’s gaze scanned the exits again, until the priest fell silent.Then, almost like he had anticipated, chaos immediately ensued.
A man at the edge of the gathering screamed so loud and collapsed with blood bursting high across his throat. The guests around him lurched backward, and someone shouted. Another voice rose in blind confusion.
And just like that, the wedding shattered.
