Page 130 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
As the laughter picked up again, Rhys stood back once more and watched it all unfold.
His family.
Strange. Messy. Loud. Loyal.
He turned to Amara, who was watching them too, a slow smile blooming on her face.
He leaned close and whispered, “Told ye it’d all be worth it.”
She glanced at him, teasing. “Even the lace?”
“Even the lace.”
Then, as if fate itself agreed, Daisy returned with the tea sloshing a little over the edge but grinning with pride.
And Rhys thought,Aye. This is what we fought for.
EPILOGUE
The morning sun spilled soft light through the mullioned windows of her chamber, casting pale gold across the stone floor. A breeze swept in through the open window, carrying with it the scent of heather and the distant echo of a fiddle being tuned.
Somewhere down in the hall, a bustle of voices marked the early preparations for the wedding feast. And yet here, in her rooms, there was only laughter and lace and the hum of excitement.
“I cannae believe it’s already the day,” Nina breathed as she cinched the final ribbon along the back of Amara’s dress. “I swear, I’ll wake tomorrow and find it’s all been a dream. We’ll all be back in the study, planning still.”
“We better nae, worked too hard on this for it to be nae real,” Mabel muttered, inspecting a delicate seam near the sleeve with a look of high scrutiny, then reaching over to pluck a fleck of invisible lint. “Hold still, now.”
Amara stood in the center of the room, robed in folds of cream and soft gold, the bodice embroidered with vines and tiny pearl accents. Her hair had been curled into a series of loose ringlets, half pulled back and pinned with sprigs of rosemary and dried thistle. A soft veil lay draped across the foot of the bed, waiting.
She hardly dared to move.
Daisy sat cross-legged on the edge of a padded bench, kicking her feet and humming some tune that sounded like one of Myles’s favorite drinking songs, but gentler, almost not as inappropriate as it really was.
“Are ye nervous?” Daisy asked, chin in hand.
“A little,” Amara confessed, then smiled. “Mostly because I’m terrified I’ll trip on the walk to the altar and go rollin’ straight into yer da.”
Daisy giggled. “Ye would never! And if ye do, he’ll catch ye.”
That made the room go quiet for a beat. Warm. Full.
Amara swallowed the tight knot that had lodged in her throat since dawn.
“Aye, I think he would.”
There were moments in life when everything shifted. Moments when the world tucked itself neatly into place and invited the heart to breathe. This was one of them. This was peace.
“I think we’re ready,” Nina said, lifting the veil gently.
Amara nodded. “Then let’s get me wed.”
The great hall had been cleared of long tables, their benches replaced with rows of cushioned chairs wrapped in tartan sashes. Floral garlands of lavender, pine, and heather hung from the beams, and ribbons of deep blue and silver framed every arch.
At the end of the aisle, before the stone hearth now unlit for spring, Rhys stood tall in full Highland regalia and O’Donnell colors, flanked by only Myles.
“Are ye sure ye want me doin’ this?” William whispered, as he stepped toward her behind the pipers.
“Aye, ye’re our friend,” Amara said with a soft smile. “And we both trust ye.”
