Page 20 of Bound By Deception

“Aye,” he answered, his voice clipped.

“Face each other, and clasp hands.”

Relieved to look elsewhere so she didn’t have to make eye contact with the arch-druid again, Bree turned to face the chief-enforcer properly. A moment later, he reached out and took her hand.

Bree stiffened.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected his touch to be like. But the warmth and strength in the hand that held hers wasn’t it. She hadn’t realized the Marav had so much heat burning inside them. The underside of his hand bore rough callouses, a testament to how hard he likely trained and fought.

These were hands that had wielded iron weapons and summoned druidic magic against the Shee—hands that wouldownher later.

Dizziness swept over Bree before she gave herself a hard mental slap.Control yourself.

The arch-druid began to wrap the ribbon around their joined hands. “Cailean mac Brochan, chief-enforcer to the High King, I join you with Fia mac Callum of Braewall.” The woman’s voicecarried through the cold, damp air. “May The Mother light your path. May The Warrior protect you. May The Maiden grant you a bounteous family. May The Hag bless you with long, healthy lives … and may The Reaper stay far from your door.”

The arch-druid then focused on mac Brochan. “Say your vows,” she ordered softly.

The chief-enforcer nodded, his jaw tight, and when he spoke, his voice was slightly choked as if he’d just swallowed nails. “I, Cailean, son of Brochan, pledge to protect you, Fia, daughter of Callum, with my body and my life.”

Foreboding prickled Bree’s skin. Vows made under the eyes of the Gods were sacred, and although she didn’t worship The Five, she was superstitious enough to worry that her deception would rouse their wrath.

Silence fell then, settling uncomfortably, before the arch-druid’s brow furrowed. “It’s your turn, Fia … make your promise.”

Swallowing, Bree forced herself to meet mac Brochan’s eye. He stared back at her, his woad-blue gaze giving nothing away. Only the strain to his voice as he’d spoken his vow had betrayed him. “I, Fia, daughter of Callum, pledge to honor you, Cailean, son of Brochan,” she said softly. “With my body and my life.”

Queasiness churned through her as she finished speaking.

Ancestors, forgive me.

“You are now wed,” the arch-druid announced as she unwrapped the ribbon that bound their hands. “You may kiss your bride, Cailean.”

Bree’s stomach lurched.

Of course, she’d never attended a handfasting before and knew little of the ways of the Marav. She’d thought that the ceremony ended with their vows. But it didn’t.

The chief-enforcer’s expression appeared carven out of stone at these words, and yet he stepped forward, a hand closing over her forearm. Once again, the strength and heat of his grip jolted through Bree. This man was a furnace.

She wanted to drop her gaze, to avert her face, but pride kept her in place, frozen like a hind in a hunter’s sights.

A heartbeat later, heat ignited under her ribs. No, she wouldn’t shrink from this beast. A kiss wasn’t the worst of what she’d have to suffer from him.

Mac Brochan dipped his head then, his mouth brushing over hers.

The kiss was light, and his lips were soft and warm. For an instant, the scent of leather and ash, and the spicy hint of clove, enveloped her—before he pulled back.

Relief swept over Bree, the sensation so strong that her knees weakened.

That was it. The kiss was over. The ceremony was done.

10: NOWHERE OF IMPORTANCE

BREE SPEARED A slice of boar with her knife and placed it upon her trencher.

She then cut off a piece and took a bite, wrinkling her nose.

“What is it now?” Mac Brochan’s irritated voice intruded, and Bree jolted. She hadn’t realized her husband was observing her—yet it seemed that the chief-enforcer missed little.

Straightening in her seat, Bree forced an apologetic smile. “Nothing. The feast is a fine one … it’s just different from what I’m used to.”

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