Page 38 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander (The Highland’s Lawson Sisters #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

W hat if she has changed her mind?

Kian’s heart thundered in his chest as he stood at the front of the chapel, his hands folded behind his back, his good eye fixed on the door, hoping with all his heart that Abigail would walk through.

After everything that had happened, he still doubted whether she would truly be his.

When the doors opened and she stepped inside, the breath left his lungs. Relief washed over him, but he was also astounded by her beauty.

She moved with grace, her dress a soft cream that flowed like water, her hair adorned with wildflowers. But it was her eyes that arrested him—steady, proud, full of fire and feeling.

He swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the truth of her. She was not just beautiful; she was also bold, fierce, and full of heart.

I’ve never seen anyone so radiant in all me days. Thank God, she’s mine.

As she joined him, they stood before the minister, hands trembling as they reached for one another.

The minister gave a small nod and unrolled the cord that would bind their hands.

“In the presence of clan and kin, do ye, Kian Wright of Clan McKenna, swear to protect, love, and cherish this woman, now and for the rest of yer days?”

“I do,” Kian said, his voice deep and sure. “With all me heart, I do.”

“And do ye, Abigail Lawson of Clan McEwan, swear to walk beside this man, to guard his heart as he guards yers, and to love him with all the strength in yer soul?”

“I do,” Abigail whispered, her fingers tightening around his. “I do, with every part of me being.”

The minister gently wrapped the cord around their joined hands, binding them together in the old ways.

“By earth, by stone, by fire and sky, let these hands be fasted. Let nay hardship tear them apart, and let nay shadow fall between.”

As he tied the final knot, the silence in the chapel was thick with finality.

The minister stepped back. “I now pronounce ye man and wife.”

Kian looked down at her, and for a moment, the world faded into the background. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted slightly, her eyes shimmering with tears she had not yet shed.

But it wasn’t just her beauty that stole his breath; it was the courage she carried, the loyalty in her bones, the strength that had drawn him to her like a moth to a flame.

She was his match in every way. Bold. Gentle where he was fierce. And when she smiled up at him, it felt like home.

“I love ye, Abigail,” he murmured in a low voice, for her ears only. “And I always will.”

“Aye,” she breathed, smiling. “And I love ye, Kian Wright.”

Their hands bound, their vows spoken, they turned to face their clan, not as two but as one.

The chapel erupted with cheers, laughter, and joy. The future unfolded before them as they started the procession from the chapel to the castle.

In the Great Hall, long tables were piled high with roasted meats, preserves, and cheeses, but notably absent of bread and fresh vegetables due to the scarcity of such things.

Musicians played lively reels as the clans celebrated, the tartans of Clan Reid, McEwan, and McKenna mingling in warm camaraderie. At the head of it all sat Kian, his hand resting gently on Abigail’s, his new bride glowing beside him.

He stood up slowly and raised his goblet high. The room fell into a hush at the scrape of his chair. His gaze swept across the hall, lingering on the familiar faces of his kin and the new ones who now stood under his roof as allies.

“To every man and woman in this room, ye are welcome here, nae as guests but as family,” he said, his voice deep and sure. “Clan McKenna is strong, but now we are stronger still, with the Reid and McEwan blood among us.”

Cheers rose from the tables, echoing off the stone walls.

Kian raised his goblet again to quiet them. “For too long, we’ve turned a blind eye to each other’s troubles. But nay longer. From this day on, let there be McKenna, Reid, and McEwan in one bond, one braitherhood.”

He turned slightly, glancing down at Abigail, pride warming his expression.

“And it begins with this union, this love. Me bonnie wife, Abigail, has shown me what it means to stand strong, even when the world tries to break ye.” His voice softened as he looked into her eyes. “She is fierce, she is kind, and she is ours now. A McKenna through and through.”

Abigail’s eyes glistened, and the hall erupted again in loud cheers, fists pounding on tables.

Kian grinned, raising his goblet one final time. “To peace. To loyalty. To family.”

The clans echoed his words, their voices ringing strong.

He sat down and wrapped his arm around Abigail’s shoulders, pulling her close.

“Ye handled that speech like a man born to rule,” she whispered, her smile teasing.

“Aye, well,” he murmured. “I had the finest reason in the world to say the words with all me heart.”

As the feast progressed and guests took to the dance floor, Kian leaned back, content.

Me clan is united with strong allies. Me bride is at me side.

The hall was abuzz with cheer and clamor. Kian kept a steady arm around Abigail as they moved through the throng of kin and guests, folk reaching for handshakes and words of blessing.

His wife’s smile lit up the entire hall—he could hardly believe she was officially his. Every man he passed gave him a nod of approval, as if saying they understood how lucky he was.

Marissa stepped into his path, her expression softer than he’d ever seen it. “May I have a word privately?” she said to him.

“Aye, ye may,” he said. Abigail nodded to him and wandered to a group of people.

“Kian,” Marissa said quietly, “I owe ye an apology. I was guarded when I first met ye, but now that I saw yer love for her… now I understand.”

Kian dipped his head respectfully, the weight of her words not lost on him. “Ye have every right to protect yer sister. But I swear on me life, Marissa, that I’ll keep her safe. Always.”

Her eyes glistened just a touch, but then she nodded once.

He turned, catching Abigail’s gaze. She was laughing as she spoke to a few clansmen, that rich, melodic sound that warmed him to his core.

He crossed toward her in quick strides and reached for her hand. “Dance with me, wife,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear.

She flushed but let him pull her onto the dance floor, the music already shifting into a lively reel. He spun her around, his hand firm on her waist, her other hand clasped tight in his.

The world narrowed to just the feel of her against him, soft and strong, their steps in perfect sync. Her eyes sparkled as she leaned in close.

“Ye always stare at me like that, husband?” she teased, her breath fanning his neck.

“Aye,” he whispered. “Because I cannae believe ye’re mine.”

Their hips brushed, their laughter weaving into the music as they moved.

His hand slid down, and she smacked it playfully with a coy look that promised mischief later.

Around them, the guests cheered and clapped, but Kian barely noticed.

He’d danced before, fought before, lived through winter and fire.

But nothing had prepared him for the ache in his chest now, the pure joy of knowing he’d finally found home.

Not in a castle or a clan, but in the woman in his arms.

Kian turned his head at the sound of the heavy oak doors creaking open.

A breathless messenger rushed in, his face flushed with urgency. The hall quieted as he called out, “Laird McKenna, carts arrived in the village, laden with salted fish, grain, and root vegetables.”

A gasp swept through the Great Hall, the guests seated at the tables lifting their heads in disbelief.

“Say that again, lad,” Kian commanded, his voice thick with emotion. “Fish and grain?”

The messenger nodded, wiping his brow. “Aye. Cart after cart, enough to fill the cellars twice over.”

Before Kian could speak further, Michael and Arthur rose from their seats. Both men lifted their goblets high, smiles stretching wide across their bright faces.

Michael spoke first. “We didnae come to celebrate empty-handed. As a wedding gift to Kian and our lovely Abigail, we sent word home.”

Arthur nodded. “Aye. We told our people to gather what they could—fish from the lochs, root vegetables, and sacks of barley and oats. It is high time that hunger was eradicated from the village. May this be the first of many years of abundance for yer clan.”

Murmurs of awe rippled through the crowd, but it was Abigail who moved first. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she crossed toward the two men. Without a word, she threw her arms around them, whispering her thanks.

Kian followed, his chest swelling with pride and humility.

He grasped Michael’s hand firmly, then Arthur’s. “Ye did this for us?” he asked.

“For her.” Michael clapped a hand on his shoulder. “And for all of ye. There’s nay stronger bond than shared bread and common cause.”

Kian turned to face the crowd once more. “Let it be known that Clan McKenna walks forward with the strength of Clan Reid and McEwan at each side. Aye, we are bound by this marriage, but more so by what we choose to build together. To Clan McEwan and Reid!”

The crowd erupted in cheers and stomps of joy as they echoed, “To Clan McEwan and Reid!”

Abigail slipped her hand in his. “I cannae believe they did that,” she whispered.

He leaned in close and kissed her cheek. “We’re surrounded by good men and good people.”

He clinked goblets with Arthur again, then turned to Michael with a grin.

Michael chuckled, slapping his back. “We wanted to keep it secret. And seein’ yer face nearly fall off when that messenger ran in was worth every mile.”

“Aye, well,” Kian drawled, “ye’ve gone and made yerselves heroes now. Prepare to be honored as such.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Leighton standing there, looking a bit awkward.

“D’ye have a moment, Me Laird?” Leighton asked, his voice low, nearly drowned out by the music. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

Kian followed him to the door, just out of earshot.

Leighton shifted his weight from one foot to another, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ve been with ye for a long time, Kian. Since we were boys chasin’ chickens through the glen. And I’ve followed ye into battle, through famine, and into more messes than I care to count.”

Kian chuckled. “Aye, and ye dragged me out of half of ‘em.”

“But today,” Leighton continued, “I wanted to say it plainly. I’m proud of ye. Ye’ve done right by this clan. And by her.” He tilted his chin toward where Abigail stood, now laughing with Arthur.

Kian felt the words sink deep. “Truth is, I wasnae sure I could be the man she deserved. Still dinnae ken, some days.”

“Ye are,” Leighton affirmed. “Ye’re rough as they come, but yer heart’s clean. Ye’ve kept us together, fed us when there was nothin’, and now, look. Look what ye’ve built. I thought yer plan to abduct the girl was pure madness at first, but it worked.”

Kian crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. “I thought I’d lose everything this winter. The land, the men, the people. But she… she made me want to fight for more than survival. She made me want to live.”

Leighton grinned. “Aye. Love does that. Makes fools of us all, but strong fools.”

They both laughed, the sound drifting up to the rafters.

Leighton handed Kian a folded cloth. “I had this made for ye as a wedding gift.”

Kian unfolded the cloth to reveal a fine leather eyepatch. “’Tis a fine gift. I shall wear it proudly.”

The two men clapped each other on the back before they walked back into the fray, where the music played on and a brighter future awaited.

I have everything I asked for and more.