Page 52 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
By all the saints, he is the bonniest lad I’ve ever seen.
The intensity of his gaze on her did not waver as she and Isla walked slowly down the vast length of the hall. It was as if an invisible cord stretched in front of her going from her heart all the way to Ewan, drawing her closer to him with each step.
As she reached his side, a shaft of sunlight speared through the window, casting a sprinkle of blue, gold, red and green lights that danced across the hall. Tyra breathed deep, her heart fluttering like a butterfly against her ribs.
This was magic, pure and simple. No matter what else may come to pass between them, in that moment and forever after, shewould always be aware of its presence in her heart, whatever it was that was drawing them together at that moment.
As their eyes met, Ewan smiled and reached for her hand, igniting a river of sparks along her arm. Isla moved to stand on her other side, the length of plaid ready in her hands.
Father Conran said a brief prayer, thanking the guests for their company and praising the Lord for his blessing on the couple to be wed.
The ceremony was simple. A far cry from the long mass held for her brother Edmund’s marriage to Annora. But this was an irregular ceremony, held at short notice, outside the kirk, without the necessary publishing of the banns.
“Daes the bride consent tae this marriage freely and without coercion.” Father Conran studied Tyra’s face as she responded. She’d been ready for the question, for the ceremony of handfasting could only be legal if it was made clear it was not a forced marriage and that both parties to the ceremony consented freely.
“I enter this marriage of me own free will. It is what I desire and nay person has used coercion or any other form of persuasion. Me decision tae wed wi’ the Laird Ewan Mackenzie is mine alone.”
Father Conran turned to Ewan and posed the question seeking the groom’s consent. Ewan bobbed his head and answered a simple “Yes.”
Then came the binding of their hands. Father Conran first took Ewan’s right hand and then Tyra’s. They each curled their fingers together and held them tight. She looked up into Ewan’s blue eyes as first Duncan, then Isla, wrapped their wrists and hands with the lengths of plaid. As their eyes met, her heart thudded so loudly she half-expected Ewan would hear it. The warmth of his fingers as they curled around hers sent a swirl of sensation coursing through her veins.
“Now, can each of ye pledge yer marriage vows tae the other.”
Ewan spoke first, his words warming Tyra’s unsteady heart.
“I wed ye, Tyra MacNeacail, above all others tae be me lawful wife. I promise tae protect ye always and pay ye every respect.”
There it was. He promised respect and protection, but nay more. She swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, took a deep breath, released it, and spoke her vow.
“I wed ye, Laird Ewan Mackenzie, above all others tae be me lawful husband. I promise tae be a faithful wife and discharge me duties tae the best of me abilities. I will always respect ye.”
Her vows seemed to stick on her tongue. With no mention of love between them the ceremony hardly seemed real. Yet, a loveless marriage, agreed to by both parties, still bound them together.
She glanced around, half-expecting to see worried faces, heads shaking, at least some reaction to the curt, almost brusque, sentiments expressed in the ceremony. Yet all that greeted her, was a sea of smiling, happy, faces.
Once Father Conran had pronounced them to be husband and wife, they were swamped by well-wishers.
Hamish was there, a wide grin on his rugged face. He patted Ewan’s shoulder. “Well done lad,” he said, before turning to congratulate Tyra. He took her hand and pressed it to his whiskery lips.
“Welcome tae Clan Mackenzie, Lady Tyra.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ewan, his hand at her waist, guided her among the clamor, introducing her to each member of the Council and their wives. Tyra warmed by his touch, smiled, returned the greetings, and accepted the curtsies and the bobbing heads.
Goodness. I shall never remember all these names.
She was almost lost in a haze of disbelief that so many were there to wish her well and that the gathering was in honor ofhermarriage to their laird. She glanced up at the tall, handsome distinguished, figure by her side.
Me husband.
She almost laughed at the unfamiliarity of it. Being addressed as “Lady Mackenzie” was most strange to her ears. There were even some moments when she glanced around imagining Isla was the one to whom the person’s remarks were meant.
Yet, through all the busy confusion, it was as if Ewan could read her mind. His arm remained at her waist guiding her through the throng, steadying her sometimes faltering steps. He bent and whispered in her ear, as if to remind her.
“Ye’re me wife now, Lady Mackenzie.”
Smiling, she looked up, meeting his eyes as the now familiar lightning strike flashed heat through her veins.
