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Chapter Eighteen

C lover could see how much effort it took Rania to keep her composure. If Whit had been an ordinary, no one would have thought anything of his name. But Crawford had the unmistakable sound of winter for a sorcerer.

Clover wondered if she should take his name or not. Did she want to be mistaken as a winter witch?

“Did you prepare your own vows?” Rania asked.

Clover shook her head and glanced over to see Whit doing the same.

Rania tried for a smile of reassurance. “No problem. I have some just in case. Please turn toward each other and join hands.”

Clover faced Whit and offered her hands to him. He took her fingers in his, locking his gaze onto hers.

A shiver ran through her as her cheeks flushed. Not for the first time that day did she thank the gods for whoever had sent him to her.

She’d cast a good luck charm, and boy, did it work. She sure felt lucky seeing him in his kilt and peasant shirt. He looked like he belonged in a wall calendar she’d once had called Kilts and Kittens.

She knew they didn’t love each other yet, but attraction was the perfect place to start in her opinion. She smiled to herself, looking forward to their honeymoon later that night.

Rania turned a serious stare to Whit. “Will you, Whittaker Crawford, take Clover Bronwen for your wife? Will you swear before the gods, goddesses, spirits, and ancestors that you will honor and respect her above all others? That you will care for her when she is ill and comfort her when she is distressed? That you will share her burdens and her joys from this day forward?”

Clover’s heart jumped as she held her breath.

“I will,” Whit declared, his eyes serious and true.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth went dry while warmth radiated from her chest.

“And will you, Clover Bronwen, take Whittaker Crawford for your husband? Will you swear before the gods, goddesses, spirits, and ancestors that you will honor and respect him above all others? That you will care for him when he is ill and comfort him when he is distressed? That you will share his burdens and his joys from this day forward?”

Clover gently squeezed his hands as unexpected tears blurred her vision. She smiled. “I will,” she said breathlessly. “I will,” she repeated with more strength.

Whit frowned, and a wrinkle formed between his eyebrows.

“You may exchange rings,” Rania said. “Clover, remove your engagement ring first. It goes on after.”

They released each other’s hands, and Clover slipped her ring off. Rania handed Clover’s ring to Whit.

The energy around them seemed to vibrate like a low hum. As Whit slipped the thin band of gold onto the ring finger of Clover’s left hand, the air seemed to sparkle and tingle like cranberry soda. She slid her amethyst ring on after.

Rania then offered Clover Whit’s ring.

Clover’s breath was shaky and shallow as she met his gaze before dropping her attention to his hand. She carefully pushed the ring onto his finger.

“Now you will share of the cup of joy and sorrow.” Rania turned back toward her table before facing them again with a glass of unknown contents.

Clover and Whit eyed the black liquid uncertainly.

Rania smiled. “I made a special tea blend with magical herbs just for the occasion. I hope it tastes all right.”

Rania offered the cup to Clover first.

As soon as the brew touched Clover’s lips, she wanted to spit it out. It was a horrific amalgamation of tastes that somehow carried the worst parts of everything put in—cardamom, chamomile, cayenne, lemon, licorice root, and the unmistakable zing of vanilla extract.

Clover swallowed a mouthful and started to cough, which set off Rania’s dog in the other room.

“Are you okay?” Whit asked, putting his hands out toward her as if he wanted to help but didn’t quite know how.

Clover nodded, raising a hand to tell him she was all right.

Rania giggled that oopsie laugh of hers. “I guess it was a cup of sorrow more than joy.” She offered it to Whit, who drew back—eyeing the concoction like it was going to jump out of the glass at him.

“Sorry,” Rania said. “But you have to drink it to complete the ritual.”

With a heavy sigh, Whit took the glass from her. He sipped it, managing to handle it better than Clover had.

Rania frowned at the cup, still more than half full. “It’s bad luck if you two don’t finish it…”

Clover shuddered, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll?—”

But before she could finish her statement, Whit downed the lot.

Clover’s mouth dropped open. She knew how disgusting it had been, but he weathered it without flinching.

His face reddened as he held his breath.

“You good?” Clover asked uncertainly, wondering where the nearest bin was in case he needed to vomit.

He blew out his breath and nodded as he waved a hand. “You can go on.”

Rania shifted her eyes between them. “Please join your left hands together.”

They did so. Then, taking the strip of cloth Clover had knitted back in high school, Rania wrapped it around their joined hands and tied it in a fisherman’s knot.

“Whittaker, repeat after me.”

Whit repeated Rania’s words, each one striking its way into Clover’s heart like a blacksmith’s hammer.

“I, Whittaker Crawford, promise you, Clover Bronwen, that I will stand with you in summer’s blessings and in winter’s bane, in times of plenty and in times of famine, while you are a bright-eyed youth, a nurturing mother, and a wise elder. Will you take me as your husband?”

Clover stared up at Whit, thinking she saw the hint of worry in his eyes. “I will,” she assured.

Rania told Clover to repeat after her as well.

“I, Clover Bronwen, promise you, Whittaker Crawford, that I will stand with you in winter’s blessings and in summer’s bane”—Clover grinned as she purposely swapped the words for Whit’s benefit—“in times of plenty and in times of famine, while you are a bright-eyed youth, a nurturing father, and a wise elder. Will you take me as your wife?”

“I will,” Whit proclaimed, his magic shimmering like sunlight on a blanket of fresh snow.

Rania placed her right hand atop their joined hands. “From this day forward until your parting, whatever form that may take, I declare you two bound together as one. May Freyja the goddess of love and marriage—as she appears as Frigg—bless your union with love everlasting. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss to seal your promises to one another.”

Rania carefully unwrapped their hands, being sure to keep the knots in the fabric.

Whit glanced at Rania, then stepped nearer Clover awkwardly. His expression was tight and uncomfortable, and Clover smiled, finding it endearing.

She slipped her arms around the back of his neck and tilted her head up expectantly. “Come now, my helpful elf, this won’t be the first time,” she said with a grin.

With her little bit of encouragement, Whit slid his arms around her waist and lowered his face slowly toward hers. He stared at her so keenly that her stomach fluttered in anticipation.

As his lips met hers, a wave of magic burst outward, declaring their bond to all the powers that be.

Heat pooled in her core as he held her against him. She could feel him holding back, feel his solid, unyielding body pressed to hers. His kiss was so light that it teased her, filling her with anticipation.

Rania’s dog in the other room let out the longest most sorrowful scream Clover had ever heard.

Clover burst out laughing, despite the animal having fully killed the mood.

Whit chuckled softly. And as Clover pulled back, she saw a small smile on his face.

Shaking her head in embarrassment, Rania said, “Let’s sign these papers so I can let him out before my neighbors call the cops.”

It took no time at all to sign their names, and Rania said she would file the paperwork on Monday. She also insisted on taking a quick picture of them with her cellphone. Not five minutes later, Clover and Whit were standing in the parking lot near Clover’s van.

She watched her new husband shift his weight from one foot to the other. But just when she was about to ask for his address in case she got lost following him to his house, he cleared his throat.

“I’m sure you have a lot of packing to do… You don’t have to move all at once, but I planned to close the shop for the weekend to help any way I can. If you text me your address, I’ll come by tomorrow…if you want.”

Clover scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. Tomorrow? Does that mean there will be no honeymoon tonight?

She could feel the pout on her face as she looked at him in his kilt. Does he not want to move that fast? It’s true we don’t know each other well, and winter sorcerers are more serious by nature. But we’re already married…

Clover sighed heavily, disappointment making her head drop instead of giving him a proper nod. “Thanks. I appreciate the help. I’ll ask my brother to cover my shift so we can get most of it done this weekend.”

“Do you need me to bring any boxes?”

“That would be helpful. Thanks.”

Whit dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Okay, until tomorrow, then.”

“I guess so,” Clover reluctantly agreed.

“Goodnight.”

After wishing him the same, she watched him head to his car, and with a heavy heart, she went to her van and climbed inside.

She glanced at the overnight bag in her passenger seat. “I even wore my sexy underwear and everything,” she grumbled before starting the engine.