Pride on his face, Lord Torridan pushed down the garb covering his own thigh, exposing the familiar symbol. “’Tis a birthmark all within the McKelanfamily share.”
Gasps and excited murmurs erupted around them.
Mind reeling, with the evidence undeniable, Rónán secured his garb and stared at the man who had sired him. “Father?” he whispered, the word he’d never believed he’d ever say, roughon his tongue.
“Aye.” After repairing his garb, with shaky steps, Lord Torridan embraced his son.
Joy surged through Rónán as he returned the hug. Dáire, his name was Dáire. All the horrific memories of the vile man who’d abused him faded beneath his father’s love, and the fact that hehad a family.
“I love you, my son. Welcome home.” Clearing his throat, Lord Torridan’s arm around his son’s shoulders, he faced the others. “I am honored this day to present my oldest son, Dáire McKelan!”
Cheersfilled the air.
“Never—” Rónán swallowed the surge of emotion. “Never did I believe this day would come.”
In the torchlight, tears ran down his father’s cheeks. “Nor I,my son. Nor I.”
Chest tight with emotion, Dáire turned to Lathir, with butone wish left.
As if reading his mind, his father smiled. “As firstborn, ’tis your duty to end the tension between the realms of Tír Sèitheach and Tír Connail, which means—”
“I must wed Lord Sionn’s daughter.” Heart pounding, Dáire strode over, knelt before her, and took her hand. “I love you, Lathir. You have stolen my heart, and I canna live without you. Marry me. I would be proud to beyour husband.”
“And I,” she said, her eyes shimmering with love, “your wife.”
A fresh round of cheers erupted as he stood and swept her into his arms witha heated kiss.
As the shouts died down once he stepped back, his father nodded. “Come, let us return to the castle. You and the others will be hungry and weary. And,” he said with a warm smile to Dáire, “on the morrow, we have a wedding to plan.”
Dáire laced his fingers with Lathir’s. Aye, let them return. He was more than anxious to wed thewoman he loved.
Chapter Eighteen
A fortnight later, with Lathir at his side and surrounded by his friends, Dáire took in the crowd gathered in the great room of Wynshire Castle fortheir wedding.
Lathir smiled up at him. Her golden hair was plaited with a weave of silver, the adornment complementing the silver torque clasping an emerald at the baseof her throat.
Memories warmed him as he glided the tip of his finger along the honed silver. “You were wearing this when we met.”
Her eyes misted. “You remembered.”
“There is naught about you that I could ever forget.” He claimed her mouth in a tender kiss, then skimmed his thumb against the curve of her jaw as he drew back. “More so as our first meeting was with yoursgian dubhat my neck.”
“A memory I shall forever carry.” Mirth twinkled in her eyes. “Mayhap the reason you look a bit dazed?”
He laced his fingers with hers. “How can I not be? In but a few weeks my life has changed, and this day, you and I will wed. And as if that was not enough, Ihave a family.”
“One that lovesyou very much.”
“’Tis as if,” he breathed as his heart squeezed tight, “awish granted.”
Laughter sounded from the front of thelarge chamber.
Dáire glanced up. Paces away, Máire stood beside Tighearnán asÓrlaith, seated on her father’s hip, was chuckling at somethingBran had said.
“Nor was my wish the only one that came true,” he said as he smiled at the small crown askew on Órlaith’s head, remembering how Tighearnán had teased Lathir that his daughter would be asking for a princess crown. “’Twould seem you granted the lasshers as well.”
Tenderness filled Lathir’s eyes. “A small token. The gift naught compared to finding Máire alive.”
