Page 21 of Married to the Scarred Highlander (Unwanted Highland Wives #4)

21

T he chapel was filled with warmth, candlelight illuminating the walls as every inch of space was consumed by the gathered men and women. The natural scent of pine drifted through the air.

Ciaran stood at the altar, a sight to behold. His dark hair was tied back, his broad shoulders squared, and a black and green tartan draped across his chest. His gaze found hers and never left as she walked toward him, his expression unreadable and intense.

As their hands were bound together for the handfasting, Ciaran leaned in, his breath teasing her ear. “Ye’re shakin’, lass.”

She huffed, smiling. “It’s cold.”

“Liar. Ye’re nervous.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed playfully, and she whispered back, “Aye, well, so are ye.”

Ciaran’s fingers flexed against hers. “I’ll never admit it.”

Her stomach flipped. “Tell me, does me marryin’ ye mean that we have to find a new healer?”

“Why would we have to do that?”

“Because I’ll be the lady of this clan. Will I nae have… other responsibilities?”

“Aye, but I’ll nae be the one to tell ye that ye cannae be a healer. That will be yer choice, lass.”

There it was again.

Me choice?

Laura shivered again, and Ciaran shifted his body closer to hers so as to press his side against hers. His heat seeped into her, and she let out a grateful exhale.

“Do ye wish to remain the keep’s healer?”

“Aye!” she said, a little too loud—a little too distracted by Ciaran’s question to realize that she had answered the priest’s question too soon.

A ripple of laughter echoed through the chapel.

Laughter rumbled in Ciaran’s chest, and he turned to the crowd. “Patience, aye? She’s eager for this to be over.”

Laughter rang louder before it was reeled back in by the priest, who repeated the question for Ciaran.

“Ciaran Barcley, do ye take this woman, Laura Kane of Clan MacNiall, to be yer wife? To stand at her side in light and shadow, to honor and cherish her, to shield her as she shields ye, and to bind yerself to her, body and soul, from this day until the end of yer days?”

Ciaran smiled a true smile as he turned his head to look at her. Laura tilted her head up, and he answered, “Aye, with all that I am.”

The priest repeated the question to Laura, who had not looked away from the man next to her as she replied, “Aye, with all that I am.”

She felt her cheeks flush under his gaze, and Ciaran moved with predatory grace. He pulled her into his arms as the priest finished the final rite, declaring them bound as one by the grace of the Almighty. He had easily twisted her from the place where she had stood, and kissed her thoroughly, deeply, and without shame.

The chapel erupted into cheers, but she hardly noticed. Her world had narrowed down to him at that moment and the way she felt in his arms, his mouth on hers.

As he led her back through the crowd, his hand enveloping hers, she asked, “A priest? How did ye get a priest to marry us with me havin’ a bairn already?”

“I threatened to burn down the chapel with him in it,” Ciaran said softly, and though his face was neutral, his tone made her believe him.

“Ye—Ye really didnae have to do that. We could have done this in the keep.”

“Ye deserve nothin’ of the sort. This—” He looked around, and then his eyes landed on hers. “This is what ye deserve. Nothin’ less.”

The scent of roast venison and fresh bread mingled with the smell of mulled ale and the sounds of celebration. The dining hall was abuzz with laughter and conversation, the tables all lined up in rows to accommodate every guest. And when they all went to the Great Hall, once a cramped space full of tables, she saw the grandiose space for what it truly was. Finally being used for its purpose, full of music and dancing and people.

How lovely would it be to use the Great Hall for celebrations like this more often?

Ciaran joined her, and he too seemed shocked by the transformation of the space.

“I’ve ne’er seen a Great Hall like this one,” she said softly, her eyes traveling the length of the rafters she had not noticed before. There was a soft, flowing fabric around each beam, and it gave an illusion of water rippling through the space.

“Aye, it’s been a while since the keep was this… lively,” Ciaran said, almost as if he didn’t enjoy it.

Laura scoffed, pulling him into the crowd.

Neil, her cousin, clapped Ciaran on the shoulder with a knowing grin. “Good to meet ye, MacAitken. Glad to see that our lass has finally found a man who can tame her.”

Laura’s face contorted, and her eyebrows shot up as if she were offended by the mere suggestion. “Tame? Ne’er even tried.”

Ceana, Neil’s wife, laughed loudly in a way that interrupted whatever Neil had almost said and jabbed an elbow in his side. “Ye ken well enough that the MacNiall women are forces to be reckoned with, husband. Yer maither bein’ one of them. Free as a bird in the sky, them. Laird MacAitken is lucky.”

Ciaran arched an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

Neil raised his mug. “It seems ye’ll keep her happy, and that’s all that matters to us.”

Ceana lifted her chalice as well, a silent agreement, before weaving her arm through his and tugging him away.

Laura smiled at her cousin as he looked back, having clearly received an earful from his wife the second they were out of earshot. She gave him a kind nod before they disappeared into the crowd.

Ciaran leaned in, his words caressing her neck as his hand found her lower back. “Could ne’er tame ye, would ne’er wish to?—”

“Ma!” Laura heard Fraser call out over the music, and her eyes landed on the red-haired boy.

Her brother was holding him, and one of the boy’s fists was tangled in his tunic. In contrast with her wide-eyed son, her brother’s gaze was fixed on her, his expression unreadable.

Fraser reached out toward them, his eyes landing on Ciaran. Adam held onto the bairn for as long as possible before Ciaran reached out and pulled the boy into his chest. Laura reached up to pat the child’s back and plant a kiss on his forehead before dropping back down and addressing her anxious brother.

“Adam?”

“I still cannae believe I’ve had a nephew for over a year and ye kept him from me,” her brother muttered. His voice was light, but his eyes gave away the sorrow he felt inside.

Laura exhaled, guilt jabbing at her ribs. “I did what I thought was best.”

Adam stared at her, undoubtedly running through their conversation from earlier that week. She had recounted every single thing that had happened between her and James, and the aftermath, filling in the details that Freya didn’t know or that Adam wasn’t privy to.

The reunion between the siblings had been quite an emotional affair. Feelings had truly been hurt at the start, but they’d eventually understood and respected the choices she made. A loaded silence fell between them now, until he nodded, his gaze shifting back to the bairn.

“He looks just like ye.” He chuckled, his face softening.

Ciaran bounced Fraser in his arms, and Laura nodded. “Aye, he does.”

“Emily wishes to spend time with him. Is that fine with ye?” Adam asked, his voice even and relaxed.

Laura’s eyes found her sister-in-law’s in the crowd, and she nodded at her before answering her brother.

Fraser easily floated between Ciaran and Adam, and she watched as his red hair traveled across the Great Hall.

Next to Emily were Freya and Doughall. Her sister was curled into her husband’s side, her eyes glowing with adoration as she laughed at something he whispered to her. It was as if nothing in the world could touch them, and for a fleeting moment, Laura felt a sad sort of envy.

I wonder if that will be how Ciaran and I are… He’s a hard man, but I ken he cares for me. But does he… love me? Or am I just givin’ meself to him physically and that’s all I’m ever destined to have in life?

Before she could ponder any further, Mrs. Morrigan approached them.

“Ach, child, if ye keep frettin’ about things ye cannae change, ye’ll end up lettin’ the world pass ye by, too scared to do anythin’,” the older woman said, hands gripping her arms firmly as she peered at Ciaran with something that looked too much like amusement.

She was clearly addressing them both, but Laura wrapped her arms around Mrs. Morrigan’s waifish figure.

“I’m nae frettin’ about anythin’,” she gritted out into the woman’s wild hair.

“I see ye’ve found yerself a strong one, aye?” Mrs. Morrigan whispered, a smile on her lips.

Laura leaned back. “Aye.”

“Strength can hold a clan together, lass, but love will decide whether it thrives or falls.”

Love? Why would she say love?

“Beware of those who see strength as a threat and love as a weakness. Such men break before they bend.”

Ciaran must have noticed the change in her demeanor because his large, warm hand came to rest on her lower back, grounding her. “Come,” he murmured. “We’ll have a final dance and then get out of here.”

She let him pull her out of Mrs. Morrigan’s embrace and onto the dance floor. The feeling of unease ebbed as the music slowed, the fiddles weaving a softer tune. Ciaran pulled her close, his arms strong around her waist, the heat of him undeniable.

“Ye’re tense,” he whispered in the small space between them.

“Mrs. Morrigan?—”

“Says the oddest things,” he assured her. “But she means nay harm, as ye ken well enough.”

Laura nodded, focusing on the movement of their bodies. It felt natural, easy, as if they’d been dancing together for years. The faces in the crowd blurred, and she let herself relax.

“Thank ye for the brooch,” she said quietly.

Ciaran’s dark eyes locked onto hers, flashing.

“It was me maither’s,” he said, his gaze flickering down to the small, delicate piece. His fingers brushed the small silver thistle, the sapphire glinting in the dim candlelight. “She wore it always. Said the thistle was for resilience—Scotland’s flower, ne’er easy to kill, ne’er bowin’ to the wind.”

He spun her then, his arms outstretched as her skirts flowed with the movement, before he pulled her back in.

“And the sapphire was for a warrior’s heart—unyielding, deep, and fierce.”

“And ye wished for me to have it?” Laura asked, her heart aching.

“Aye, a reminder of what can exist in the same soul. It’s everythin’ ye are and everythin’ I try to be for ye and young Fraser.”

Her breath hitched, and her fingers tightened around his as the music swelled around them, though she barely heard it over the pounding of her heart.

Laura’s eyes suddenly landed on Henry’s penetrating glare as he lingered at the edge of the room. He looked away quickly, scanning the room again, his expression unreadable.