Page 45

A rmstrong Lands

The sun rose golden over Armstrong lands, softening the stone edges of the keep and casting long, honey-colored shadows across the hills. It was the kind of light that meant something new was beginning. The kind that whispered hope.

Today, Agnes would be married.

The bridal chamber smelled of lavender and rosewater. Steam from the bath still lingered faintly in the corners, curling against the panes of glass like the last wisps of sleep. Her gown lay across the bed, ivory and pale gold, the stitching so fine it could’ve been done by moonlight or angels.

Paisley bustled nearby, smoothing the fabric, her face pink with concentration. She had been allowed to come with Agnes from Caithness’s lands—a final gift, the laird had said, because no bride should prepare for her wedding without someone she loved by her side.

"Yer hair's bein' difficult again," she muttered, wrangling another unruly curl into place with a ribbon. "It's got a mind o' its own."

Agnes smiled faintly at her reflection. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips stained soft with balm. Her eyes were bright, wide. She looked... different. Still herself, but steadier somehow. Brighter at the edges. Not untouched by what had happened, but no longer bowed by it.

Paisley caught her watching. "What?"

"Naethin’," Agnes said, the corners of her mouth tugging upward. "Just glad it’s ye by me side."

Paisley paused, eyes softening. "There’s naewhere else I’d choose tae be."

That pulled a fuller smile from Agnes. She reached for Paisley’s hand and gave it a grateful squeeze.

The door creaked open just then, and another voice—one she hadn’t heard in far too long—cut through the quiet.

"I knew you’d look like a queen."

Agnes turned, breath catching. "Constance."

Her sister stood framed in the doorway, radiant as ever in blue, her auburn curls pinned back but loose at the sides. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but her smile was wide and bright.

Agnes didn’t wait. She crossed the room and threw her arms around her sister, burying her face into the familiar curve of her shoulder.

"I missed ye," Agnes whispered.

"I missed you more," Constance murmured back, her hands stroking Agnes’s back gently. "Gods above, couldn't you send a letter?"

They both laughed, wet and breathless, clinging to each other as if trying to make up for every lost day.

Agnes felt Constance’s tears drip into her hair, and her own followed suit, soaking into her sister’s dress.

It wasn’t just joy. It was relief, and sorrow, and the fierce, aching love that only twins could share.

The bond that had been stretched thin across months and miles had snapped back in an instant, mending with a ferocity that made Agnes dizzy.

She pulled back, cupping Constance’s face, searching it as if to memorize every line.

"Ye’re really here," she whispered.

Constance nodded, her lips trembling with a grin. "I’ll always find my way to you."

"I wanted tae write," Agnes said, stepping back, eyes misted. "But everything happened so fast."

"So you’ll just have to tell me now," Constance said, pulling her over to the bed. "All of it. Every bit. I want the whole tale of how my sensible sister ended up marryin’ a former outlaw turned laird."

Agnes gave her an arch look. "Tav’s nae an outlaw."

"He bloody well was ."

She laughed again, the sound lifting like a bell.

"He was angry and guarded and kind. Too kind.

I thought he was arrogant. But then... he looked at me like I was more than just a duty.

He listened. Saw me. And then he saved me life more times than I can count, even when I tried tae pretend I didnae need him.

I fell in love with him before I could stop it. "

Constance grinned. "And you really love him, I can see it in your face."

Agnes blushed, then nodded. "Aye. I dae. I love him more than I thought I could love anyone. "

Constance reached over and squeezed her hand. "You deserve joy. I prayed every night you’d find it."

They sat in silence for a beat, fingers interlaced. The weight of the day settled around them, soft and solemn.

A bell tolled outside.

Agnes startled, heart stuttering. "That’s the first."

Constance grinned. "Come on then, bride. Time to go make history."

Paisley fussed over the final touches—fastening a tiny pearl clasp at the nape of Agnes’s neck, tucking a white thistle into her braid.

"There," she said, stepping back. "Ye’re ready."

Agnes rose slowly, her breath catching in her chest. The weight of the moment settled in like a crown.

Another knock sounded at the door.

"Agnes?"

Her father’s voice. She turned just as the door creaked open.

Ewan Kerr stepped inside, his face caught between pride and grief. He looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time—and maybe he was. He wore his best formal tartan, and his beard had been freshly trimmed. His eyes shone with emotion he didn’t dare speak aloud.

"Faither," she whispered.

He blinked hard. "Ye look beautiful, lass. So like yer maither."

Agnes felt a lump rise in her throat. She stepped forward and took his hand.

He looked down at her fingers wrapped around his. "Ready?"

"I think so."

He offered his arm. "Then let’s take ye tae yer future."

Agnes looped her arm through his. Constance stepped just behind, Paisley beside her, forming the quiet procession.

They walked out into the corridor. Light poured through the stained glass in soft patterns, gold and blue washing over the flagstones. Every step echoed. Every breath felt sacred.

The walk from the garden to the chapel was brief, but Agnes knew she would remember every step for the rest of her life.

Her father's arm steady beneath her hand and the distant music already drifting from inside the church. It all felt like something out of a story she hadn’t dared hope was hers.

Each step was a breath closer to the rest of her life with Tav.

And though her heart thundered with nerves, what anchored her was the thought of Tav waiting at the end of that aisle, looking at her like she was all that mattered.

Her father paused at the heavy chapel doors, one hand resting on the iron latch. He glanced down at her with a grin that didn’t quite mask the emotion in his eyes.

"Still time tae change yer mind, lass," he said, trying for levity. "We can tell Tav ye got cold feet. I’ll take the blame."

Agnes laughed, breathless, nerves and affection mingling in her chest. "Nice try, Da. But I think I’m right where I’m meant tae be."

He nodded once, proud. "Aye. Ye are."

And then the doors opened.The church was hushed as they stepped in.

Agnes stepped into the entryway on her father’s arm, and instantly the air shifted.

All around them, the guests rose to their feet, the rustle of fabric and the soft scrape of shoes against stone breaking the silence.

Sunlight streamed in from the high windows, gilding the pews and casting halos across the shoulders of those gathered.

She could see them all. Laird Caithness, seated in the front row, gave her a small nod, his smile quiet and proud.

She smiled back, heart tightening with something too vast to name.

And then Tav’s brother Bane, who was married to Constance, and their sister Fia, who she had finally had the pleasure to meet, with her husband, Laird Knox.

Beyond them were faces from both Kerr and Armstrong lands.

Some she knew. Some she didn’t. But they all looked at her with reverence, with hope.

Their presence felt like a shared benediction, like this moment meant something not just for her, but for them all.

And then she looked forward.

Tav .

Her heart stopped. The breath caught in her throat.

He stood at the altar, straight-backed, hands clasped in front of him, dressed in deep green and black, the crest of the Armstrong line embroidered over his heart. But it wasn’t the clothes or the stance or the banner that made her go still.

It was the way he looked at her.

As if she was the rising sun. As if she was everything he had ever waited for. His eyes were locked on hers, wide and awestruck, and his lips parted just slightly, like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Like she had knocked the wind out of him just by existing. A slow smile curved across his mouth.

She could feel the heat rush to her cheeks. The world blurred around the edges, the music distant and warbled. Everything narrowed down to him. The air between them stretched thin, like it was made of thread. Her pulse thrummed in her ears.

He looked so good it hurt.

Her hand tightened on her father’s arm as they began to walk. The world faded away. The church. The crowd. Even the music. It was all background to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat and the weight of Tav’s gaze on her. With every step she took, he felt closer.

When they reached the altar, Ewan turned to her, lifted her veil with careful hands, and kissed her cheek.

"I love ye, lass," he whispered, voice thick.

She squeezed his hand. "I love ye too, Da."

Then he stepped aside andTav took her hand in his.

The priest stepped forward then, raising his voice just enough to carry through the still air of the chapel.

"We are gathered today," he began, "tae witness and bless the union of Laird Tav Armstrong and Lady Agnes Kerr. A union nae only of heart, but of clans. A bond forged in hardship and healed through love. If any among ye have cause tae object, speak now, or remain silent forever."

No one spoke.

The priest nodded. "Then let us begin the vows. Me Laird, if ye will."

Tav turned to her fully, lifting her hands into his. His voice was rough at the edges, brimming with feeling.

"I vow tae protect ye. Love ye. Stand beside ye. Nae just as laird. Nae just as man. But as yer equal. As the one who walks with ye, nae matter the storm."

Agnes felt her throat tighten, her heart pounding so loud she was sure the whole room could hear it. Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted them to Tav’s, grounding herself in his steady grip. Her eyes didn’t waver from his.

Her vows came in a hush, but every word rang clear. Words that had lived inside her since the night by the fire when he had fixed her hair, since the first time he’d held her like something precious.

“I vow tae stand beside ye, even when the path darkens. Tae be yer match in storm and stillness. Tae love ye, nae as a duty, but as a choice—every day, always. Tae laugh with ye, tae fight beside ye, tae build something worthy o’ the pain we’ve both survived.”

The priest lifted his hands, voice rising over the silence, reverent and sure. "By the power vested in me by the Kirk and the will o' these gathered clans, I now pronounce ye husband and wife. The Laird and Lady Armstrong."

The church erupted.

The cheer was deafening—clapping, shouts, laughter echoing through the rafters, the peal of bells rising into the vaulted ceilings like a blessing. But Agnes barely heard any of it because her world had collapsed into a single, breathless moment. A single man.

Tav’s hands closed tight around hers, warm and sure, the only anchor she needed. Her heart was beating so hard it hurt, a thunder behind her ribs. He looked at her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered. And in that moment, she believed it. She felt it. She was his. Entirely.

He smiled and leaned in just as the room around them melted away.

Their kiss was everything.

Not just a kiss of passion, but a kiss that said we made it. That said I see ye. I choose ye. I will keep choosing ye.

His hands were gentle against her waist. Hers rested on the front of his tunic. The kiss deepened just a breath, and she tasted the smile on his mouth before they finally pulled apart.

When they did, they stood surrounded by applause and the chiming of bells and saw no one but each other.

He leaned in, his voice a warm murmur against her ear.

"Gods, I cannae wait till this is over," he whispered, teasing, low and wicked. " I want ye all tae myself."

Agnes flushed scarlet and let out a breathless laugh.

He grinned. Wicked and boyish. But his eyes were molten.

Their hands found each other again, laced tight. They turned together toward the church aisle, side by side. Husband and wife. As they walked back down the aisle, it wasn’t just a celebration.

It was a promise.

Of a life rebuilt from ruin. Of a love born in blood and fire and stubborn hope. Of a future earned, not given.

They had survived.

And now, they would begin.

But there’s more…

They defied duty and won their love—but with Tav’s true bloodline exposed it is time they take their rightful place and claim their 'happily ever after...'

If you want a glimpse into their future and to see all the new things unfolding in their lives...