“By this handfastin’,” the pastor said, knotting the braid, “ye are bound nae only in body, but in fate.” He nodded once, satisfied. “Speak yer vows.”
Ian’s gaze locked on hers, intense and unwavering. “I give ye me name and me protection,” he said, rough sincerity in his tone.
Arianna felt heat rise in her chest as she answered. “I give ye me loyalty and me strength,” she said softly, meaning more than she had expected.
The pastor smiled faintly. “Then by the laws of God and Scotland,” he declared, “I pronounce ye man and wife.” A murmur swept through the kirk.
Ian released her hands and stepped closer. For a breath, he hesitated, as if giving her the chance to pull away. She did not. He pulled her close and kissed her, firm and claiming, sealing the marriage.
Heat flooded through Arianna at his touch, her knees weakening as the world narrowed to him alone. His kiss was warm and sure, sending a thrill through her that she could not deny. She felt his lips against hers with a tenderness that shook her. His large hands held her firmly in place as she felt his warmth radiate through her sleeves, sparking a fire within her.
When he drew back, her breath came fast and unsteady. His presence loomed over her, and a tingle throbbed in her heart. The cheers of the clans washed over her, but all she could feel was the weight of his presence and the sudden, terrifying certainty that her life had truly changed.
The great hall of McGuire Castle rang with music and laughter as the ceilidh swelled into full life. Ian sat at the high table, his gaze drawn again and again to the woman beside him. Arianna had been comely when he first set eyes on her, but in her wedding dress, she was something altogether dangerous. Her brown hair lay in neat braids, catching the firelight like polished chestnut.
He told himself to look elsewhere, yet his eyes betrayed him. The curve of her full bosom rose and fell with each careful breath she took. Her blue eyes shone too brightly, and her lips, full and soft, pressed together as if holding back words. Heat coiled low in his belly, sharp and unwelcome, and he forced himself to look away.
She doesnae feel the same for me. Refusing to consummate the wedding on the wedding night because she loathes the sight of me.
Ian reached for his cup, grounding himself in the familiar burn of ale. He reminded himself that desire was a weakness best mastered, not indulged. Still, the knowledge that she was now his wife stirred something feral and possessive in him. He shifted in his chair, silently cursing the effect she had upon him.
They sat shoulder to shoulder as the feast was served, the table bending beneath the weight of food. Platters of roast venison and beef were carried out first, glazed and steaming. Trencher bread soaked up thick gravies, while bowls of roasted vegetableswere passed down the line. The scent of herbs, smoke, and fresh-baked bannocks filled the air.
The great hall itself glowed with torchlight and hanging banners bearing the McGuire crest. Evergreen boughs lined the rafters, and long tables stretched the length of the room, crowded with clanfolk and guests. Music pulsed from the far end, fiddles and drums urging feet to dance. It was a display of wealth and power, meant to leave no doubt as to who ruled here.
Ian noticed Arianna barely touched her food. Her fork pushed at the meat without purpose, and the bread before her lay untouched.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Ye’ve scarcely eaten a bite,” he said. “Is the food nay to yer liking?”
She glanced at him, startled, then shook her head. “It’s fine,” she replied softly. “I’m just… too nervous to eat much.” Her fingers tightened briefly around her cup.
Ian’s brow lifted.
“Nervous,” he echoed, a hint of challenge in his tone. “Does bein’ mine make ye so afraid?” He watched her carefully as he spoke. A flicker of fire crossed her face.
Arianna lifted her chin, her spine straightening. “No,” she said coolly. “Ye daenae make me afraid.” Her eyes held his without wavering. “It’s leavin’ me home that unsettles me, nae ye.”
Something in her defiance pleased him more than it should have. Ian gave a low huff of amusement.
“Aye, best ye get used to change,” he said. “This is a powerful hall ye sit in now.” He gestured subtly to the room. “Did ye notice how many clans came to witness this union?”
She followed his glance, her eyes widening as she took in the banners and faces. “I did,” she said. “There are far more here than I expected.” Her voice carried a note of awe despite herself. “It seems half the Highlands have gathered.”
“As they should,” Ian replied, arrogance threading his words. “The McGuires are feared and respected. It’s the price of power.”
She gave a small snort before she could stop herself. “That sounds like a lonely sort of pride,” she said. “Fear only lasts so long.” Her eyes sharpened. “Respect must be earned again and again.”
Ian’s mouth twitched, caught between irritation and reluctant admiration. “Careful, wife,” he murmured. “Ye speak boldly for someone new to this hall.” He leaned closer. “I’ve earned every scrap of what I hold.”
“I’m sure ye believe that,” she shot back. Her fingers finally lifted a bite of food, though she barely tasted it. “But power built only on fear tends to crumble.”
The air between them tightened, words clashing like steel. Ian felt the prickle of attention from nearby seats and straightened.
I cannae let the clan see me falter to a woman, even one as beautiful as this.
“Ye test me,” he said quietly. “That could be unwise.” His tone was low, dangerous as he attempted to pull her into obedience in front of his men.
Arianna’s cheeks flushed, but her eyes did not drop. “And ye provoke me,” she replied. “Which seems equally foolish, for ye would nae want all the clans that have come from afar to witness such a spectacle,” She pushed back her chair. “If ye’ll excuse me, me Laird I need to speak with me mother.”
