—Torrential, I reply, picking up my fork. But fortunately, the cabin was solid and resilient.
Keira coughs to hide her laughter while Heather’s eyes narrow.
Under the table, I feel Callum place his hand on my thigh, and I relax at his touch.
—You missed the beginning of dinner—and Lachlan’s stories, Ewan tells me from my left.
—My stories are fascinating! Lachlan protests from the other end of the table. I’m sure Jane and Callum would have loved the one about my encounter with that mermaid near Loch Ness.
—A mermaid? I repeat, grateful for the distraction.
—Don’t encourage him, Ewan whispers. He’ll start again from the beginning, and trust me, it’s a story that lasts longer than the construction of the castle.
—In that case, I say aloud, I’ll ask you for a detailed summary later, Lachlan. For now, I’d like to know what else I missed during our absence.
—Oh, not much, Keira replies innocently. Heather was telling us how unfortunate it was that you didn’t have a full traditional Scottish wedding ceremony.
I nearly choke on my sip of water.
—Really? I say, looking at Heather.
—I was expressing my surprise at the absence of certain traditions during your wedding, she explains with a polite smile. The McGregors are usually so attached to their customs.
—Sometimes, circumstances dictate choices, Callum replies in a calm but firm voice. And the speed of a wedding does not reflect the depth of the feelings involved.
His hand finds mine under the table and squeezes gently.
—Exactly, I confirm, holding her gaze. Some people spend months planning the perfect ceremony and end up divorcing a year later. Others get married on impulse and stay together their entire lives.
—Or begin with a practical arrangement and discover much more along the way, Callum murmurs so softly I may be the only one to hear it.
—Nevertheless, Heather insists, deliberately ignoring our exchange, traditions matter—especially in a family like yours, Callum. I remember how attached you were to the McGregor legacy when we were together.
—People change, Heather, he replies calmly. What seemed important to me a few years ago doesn’t necessarily matter today.
—Really? I would have thought certain values remained constant—honor, loyalty, duty to family…
—Honor and loyalty are precisely the reasons I married Jane, Callum cuts in, his voice firmer now. As for duty to my family, it now takes a different form, because Jane is my family.
A stunned silence follows that statement. A deep warmth spreads through my chest at his words. With a single sentence,Callum has placed me at the center of his world, above even the ancestral traditions of the McGregors.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maggie raise her glass in our direction, a satisfied smile on her lips.
—I think, she says, that we should make a toast. To Callum and Jane, and to their own way of reinterpreting McGregor traditions.
Everyone raises their glass, even Heather, though her smile looks more like a restrained grimace.
—To Callum and Jane, the guests echo in unison.
I take a sip of wine, my gaze meeting Callum’s. In his eyes, I see the promise of a future that wasn’t written into our original contract.
Dinner continues, conversations resuming their normal flow. I answer questions about my archery victory, Callum discusses the Highland Games results, and little by little, the attention shifts away from our late and disheveled arrival.
Then a small cry rings out, followed by a muffled curse. All eyes turn toward the source of the noise: Heather, whose emerald dress now bears a red stain from spilled wine.
—I am terribly sorry, Keira apologizes, standing beside her with an empty glass in hand. I slipped. How clumsy of me.
Her tone suggests anything but an accident, an impression confirmed by the discreet wink she sends me.
