Page 69 of The Scottish Bride
“Now hold outyour hands—aye, one atop the other,” the abbot directed.
With their simple promises said, Liam took a breath and faced Tamsin, gently stacking her hands with his. “The woman’s right hand cups under the man’s hand to pledge support. The man’s left hand cups over hers to pledge protection,” his uncle explained. “Now let this cloth bind you.”
He held up a long, narrow woolen cloth, a blue and green tartan weave, handsome and strong. Looping it around their hands, he circled once, twice, thrice, then tied the long ends together in three loose knots. “A knot for her love, a knot for his, a third knot for joined love of children and others. These knots,” he continued, “bind William and Thomasina together by the power of their vows.”
The abbot hovered a hand above theirs. “What was two is now one, in love, loyalty, forgiveness, and devotion always, in all ways. God above and below, God before and behind, bless this union.”
Liam drew a breath—this was happening so fast. Leaning forward, he kissed Tamsin lightly, and she returned it. Her gaze on his was dove gray, satiny and deep, and he smiled. He would never let her down. Never.
“Now pull apart slowly. The knots will keep.” Abbot Murdoch handed the knotted fabric to Tamsin. “Handfasted, as you wished.”
“For a year and a day,” she said.
“For as long as you both want. I will post the banns of marriage on the door of our chapel here, and in the next village, so it will be seen.”
“It must be seen,” Liam said. Word must spread to Dalrinnie’s gates, he thought. Clasping Tamsin’s hand, he looked toward his brothers and cousin, who stood watching, smiling, Roc between them. Dawn broke pink and gold beyond the window of the abbot’s house, and the fire in the hearth snapped and brightened. In that instant, he felt good. Hopeful. But he could not stay. “My lady, I must ride out soon.”
“Where? You have not said.”
“Come here,” Liam drew her a little away from the others. When he and Tamsin had visited his uncle just after the prime bells with their decision, the abbot had been ready. In a whirlwind, it seemed, they were handfasted. He suspected his reverend uncle purposely gave them no time to think.
He led her to a corner near the hearth while his kinsmen poured out morning ale, laughing and celebrating. They had all wanted this, Liam realized, smiling a little. Well, it was done.
Now for the honesty he had just pledged to her. “We are ordered to Thornhill to bring your cousin and her father out and take them to refuge.”
“On whose order?” she asked quickly. Uncertainty flickered in her eyes.
“Bruce,” he murmured. “He sent the message to my uncle and named my kinsmen and I to the task.”
Relief and understanding dawned in her gray eyes. “So that is the way of it for you and yours.”
“It is.” He gave it the space of a heartbeat, two, as she took it in. Then she nodded, and a little smile crossed her lips. “Thornhill could be lost if the English go up that way,” he continued. “Sir Hugh Douglas may see it through, but Brucewants Lady Kirsten removed. He wants other noblewomen of Scotland closely guarded too, including you and your sisters. As for you,” he said, setting a hand upon the wall as he leaned toward her, “I ask that you wait here until I return.”
“Where would I go?” she asked, but her lips quirked—luscious in firelight and so delicious in memory that his body responded, subtle and quick. Her gaze flew to his lips as if she, too, felt it, and she blushed.
Liam took her hand again. “I know you want to go to Selkirk. And I fear you will not wait for me, but try to go on your own despite the danger.”
“That was my plan before I met you. We have been here too long.” She bristled. “In a handfasting, there is no promise to obey.”
“Nor do I ever expect it. But wait for me, do,” he said, thumb caressing her hand.
She gasped set her free hand to her heart. “Liam, what if—some ill befalls you? How would I know?”
“You of all people would know, I think.” Leaning down, he murmured in her ear, “I will come back and sing to you. Promise me you will wait, lass.”
“I want to wait and yet need to go. I feel as if you have put a glamourie over me with your voice. Your touch.” Her eyes sparkled, lips quirked.
“You are the one put a glamourie over me, love, kin of the Rhymer as you are. I only ask that you wait a few days, aye?”
“I must reach the bookseller soon.” He heard the pleading in her voice. “Malise knows the book may be there. Not many in this region do that sort of work, so he could find the man before I do.”
He sighed. “If I am not back in three days, I will ask Gideon to take you.”
“Hurry, do. I need to hear your voice again,” she whispered.
He began to hum then, a half-forgotten melody that came to him suddenly, and then sang softly. “A lady brisk and bold came riding o’er the ferny brae—”
Her skirt was of the grass-green silk, her mantel of the velvet fine,
