The moment her father stepped down, she rushed forward, her breath catching in her throat.
“Father,” she whispered, her voice trembling as Alistair Whitmore took her hands, his face lined with remorse.
“Lass… I have wronged ye,” he said hoarsely. “I let fear and debt guide me, and I near lost ye because of it.”
Eloise’s eyes softened, and she squeezed his hands gently. “It is past now,” she said. “I forgive ye.”
Before another word could pass, her mother, Isobel Whitmore, swept forward and pulled Eloise into a fierce embrace, holding her as though she would never let go.
“Me brave girl,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I am so proud of ye, for standing strong when the world turned cruel.”
Eloise clung to her, emotion swelling in her chest. “I didnae ken if I would see ye again,” she admitted softly.
Isobel cupped her face, smiling through her tears. “Ye were always strong,” she said warmly.
James approached then, steady and composed, and Eloise turned with a small smile.
“Father, Mother… this is Laird MacAllister,” she said.
Alistair straightened, meeting his gaze with cautious respect, but James spoke first.
“Ye are family now,” he said firmly. “And I will see yer debts settled and yer honor restored, if ye swear to leave the gamblin' behind.”
Alistair blinked in surprise, then nodded deeply. “Ye have me word, me Laird,” he said. “And me thanks.”
Eloise took it all in with pride. She could not believe that her fate had turned to such a fortunate future. She had set out on foot, running from an ill marriage agreement. Then landed at Calibroch with a moody, handsome Laird. Only to become tangled in secrets and a farce that would change her life forever.
I wouldnae have it any other way. He is a good man. The best of the Lairds of this land. He is mine, and I am his. Forever.
EPILOGUE
Eloise stood facing James, her hands trembling as they rested within his. The air felt sacred, alive with the quiet murmur of birds and the rustle of leaves above in the old grove forest near Calibroch.
A length of crimson ribbon was wound carefully around their joined hands by the parson, binding them together in a symbol older than the stones beneath their feet. The officiant raised his hands, his voice carrying through the grove.
“By earth and sky, by blood and name, these two souls stand before us to be bound as one,” the parson declared.
James tightened his hold on Eloise’s hands, his thumb brushing gently across her skin.
“Eloise Whitmore,” he said, his voice low but unwavering, “I vow to protect ye, to honor ye, and to stand beside ye all the days of me life.”
Her breath hitched, emotion swelling in her chest as she listened.
“I vow to give ye nae just me strength, but me heart,” he continued, his gaze never leaving hers. “And I swear before all gathered here, ye will never stand alone again.”
Tears shimmered in Eloise’s eyes as she drew in a steady breath, gathering her courage.
“James MacAllister,” she began, her voice soft but clear, “I vow to stand beside ye, in light and shadow alike.”
She tightened her fingers around his. “I will share yer burdens and yer joys, and I will face whatever comes with ye, nay matter the cost.”
Her lips trembled into a smile. “Ye have given me more than safety… ye have given me a place to belong, and I vow to cherish it, and ye, always.”
The parson nodded, his voice solemn and warm. “With this binding of hands, so too are yer lives bound,” he intoned. “May this knot never be broken, nor the bond it represents undone.”
James leaned closer. “Ye are mine, Eloise… and I am yers.”
She smiled through her tears. “Aye… forever,” she whispered. And as the ribbon held them fast, their hearts sealed what words alone never could.
