Page 137 of Under the Laird’s Promise

"I ken. Daesnae make it less pointless."

"Nae. But it makes it necessary." She took his hand, squeezing. "Come. Let's get ye cleaned up and checked fer injuries."

"I'm fine."

"Humor me. I'm yer wife. I get tae fuss."

Despite everything, Tavish smiled. "Aye. Ye dae."

They walked back toward the castle together, Greg trailing slightly behind. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the grounds.

EPILOGUE

One week later

The courtyard had been transformed.

Maighread stood at the entrance to the castle, taking in the sight with something close to wonder. Garlands of late-autumn greenery draped from every post and archway. Torches blazed in holders along the walls, casting warm light across the gathered crowd. Tables laden with food stretched along one side, and musicians tuned their instruments near the central dais.

A proper wedding celebration. The one they hadn't had time for before.

"Nervous?" Kathleen asked beside her.

"Nay. We're already married. This is just… theater."

"Important theater. The clan needs this. They need tae see their lady happy and secure."

Maighread glanced at her cousin. "And what about what I need?"

"Ye need tae marry the man ye love in front of everyone who matters." Kathleen's smile turned mischievous. "Again. Because apparently once wasnae enough fer ye."

Despite her nerves, Maighread laughed. "Tavish wanted this. Said the clan deserved tae celebrate after everything."

"He's right. And ye deserve it too. A real wedding, nae a rushed ceremony with only a handful of witnesses."

Maighread touched the pendant at her throat, the metal warm from her skin. She'd worn it constantly since Tavish had given it to her, through the battle with Keir, through the tense days after when they'd secured the borders and sent warnings to neighboring clans. It had become a talisman.

"How dae I look?" she asked.

"Like a bride. A fierce, beautiful, slightly terrifying bride."

Maighread glanced down at her gown. Deep green velvet, finer than what she'd worn for the private ceremony. The seamstresses had worked frantically to finish it in time, adding intricate embroidery along the sleeves and neckline. Her hair was braided with ribbons, falling in a thick plait over one shoulder.

She felt oddly exposed. Vulnerable in a way she hadn't during the small wedding.

"The guests are arriving," Kathleen observed, nodding toward the courtyard entrance.

Indeed, people were streaming through the gates. Clan members, neighboring allies, merchants who'd done business with MacEwan for years. More than Maighread had expected, given the short notice.

"How did word spread so fast?" she wondered aloud.

"Good news travels quick. Especially when it involves the death of a tyrant and the marriage of a beloved lady."

Maighread spotted familiar faces in the crowd. The healer who'd tended the wounded from Keir's attacks. The village elder from the border settlement Tavish had defended. Greg, standing near the musicians and looking uncomfortable in formal attire.

And there, being helped from a covered litter, her father.

Maighread's breath caught. Angus looked frail, his movements careful and slow. But he was upright. Conscious. Smiling.