Arran shoved his sword back into its scabbard and stepped away with his hands raised. “Ye dinna have to fight. ‘Tis solely a betrothal agreement to salve her wounds and continue the unity of the Highlands clans.”
“Has she signed? Or are ye wed? Did ye say man and wife?”
Arran shook his head. “Nay, we had no’ reached that point yet.”
Sawny’s weary gaze shifted from Arran to Seamus, then to their priest. “Is my betrothal agreement to Adaira still valid?”
The poor priest’s shocked eyes were riveted on Sawny, as if he was seeing an actual ghost in his holy church.
“Aye,” the poor priest finally stuttered. “She did no’ sign another, nor is she wed, so your betrothal is still in force.”
“Here, here, Father Geordie!” Seamus called out. “We canna just switch betrotheds!”
The priest scratched his head. “Well, ‘tis no precedence for such a thing, but ‘tis no reason we canna do that either.”
“What of my daughter? We should ask what she wants!” Seamus said, his voice tight. Sawny could not make out the meaning of his sentiments, but then, his mind was barely his own at this moment.
However, Seamus, much to Sawny’s dismay, was right. Adaira’s voice was required in this decision.
“I believe I know her answer, but aye, we should ask her,” Sawny agreed.
He shoved his knife back into his waistband and turned to her. Like him, the ravages of his disappearance wore on her, making her thin, with shadows haunting her face. She lost some of her voluptuous curves, and in his mind, he vowed to care for her so that her full health and figure would return.
“What of ye, my love? What is your choice?” Sawny asked her.
Her deep green eyes studied him, as if she still could not believe he was truly alive.
“I thought ye to be dead,” she said breathlessly.
He took her hands in his. “Death is no’ a thing that can stop a love like ours. At best, it can only delay it a bit.” Then he leaned into her, sliding his rough, bearded cheek against her smooth one. “I would always return to ye. I would fight Death himself to hold ye in my arms again. Will ye take me, this broken shell of a man, and make me your husband, again?”
Adaira closed her eyes, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
This.Thiswas her Sawny.
Though it seemed an impossible dream, he was here. With her.
Och, how she had missed this. How she had missedhim.
Was this real? Was he truly in this church, ready to wed her?
She peeked open her eyelids to see her mother standing to the side, a relieved smile on her fair face. As if her mother heard her silent question, Sorcha inclined her head ever so slightly.
Sorcha might be a force to be reckoned with, yet at the end of the day, she was a woman who loved a man and understood the raw need to be with that man.
Even if the circumstances surrounding it were the most bizarre.
“Aye. I’ll wed ye Sawny.”
Sliding his cheek back across hers, his lips found her mouth, and if it was possible to walk the path to heaven, then the sensation of Sawny’s lips on hers was the closest she could imagine. His lips, though dry, were ardent and just as aggressive as she remembered.
A discreet cough next to her drew her face away from Sawny’s. Seamus’s eyebrows rode high on his head.
“Fine, lad. If Arran has no qualms —” he flicked his eyes at the man in question who politely shook his head, “then ye can marry the lass. We can have that arranged. What happened to ye? Where have ye been so long absent?”
Sawny kept his arms around Adaira’s waist as he shifted his attention to Seamus.
“There is so much to tell, and I must speak with ye soon, but right now, I need to marry Adaira.”
