Before Hannah could say anything else, another knock sounded at the door.
“May I come in?”
Hannah’s eyes lit up. “‘Tis me husband.”
Violet blinked. A part of her couldn’t believe that a man like Aiden Calder would be gracious enough to attend her wedding. For some reason, it made everything feel immensely surreal.
“Aye. Please,” she called.
The door opened, and Aiden stepped inside. He stopped for a moment, taking in the gown, the pins, Hannah’s bright eyes, and Violet’s carefully lifted chin.
“Well,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “Laird Moore had better ken what honor is walking toward him.”
Violet’s eyes burned. “Daenae make me cry. Hannah has already tried.”
“Then I will be brief.” Aiden offered his arm. “I would be proud to walk ye down the aisle. If ye’ll have me.”
Hannah moved to Violet’s other side. “Both of us, if ye want.”
Violet looked between them, and for one moment, the wedding waiting below felt less like a sentence and more like a road she did not have to walk alone.
“Aye,” she agreed. “Both of ye.”
She placed her hand on Aiden’s arm, then reached for Hannah’s. Something about the action calmed her at once, and she felt nothing but loved by everyone in the room at that moment.
She raised her chin.“Let us go.”
Connor waited at the front of the hall with Alex at his right and started to count in his head all the reasons why this marriage was necessary.
For a start, John’s place would be secured. Violet would have legal protection that no English family could easily challenge, and the neighboring clans would see order where scandal had tried to take root. The other lairds would have their answer, and they would see that Clan Moore was as strong as it had always been.
This had better work, he told himself, a wave of slight despair washing over him.
The priest stood near the altar beside him, his eyes sharp and ready for the event. Clansfolk, friends, and family had gathered to witness the union. Fresh stones had been laid underfoot, and herbs had been tied near the posts. The scent of rosemary and gentle smoke drifted in the air.
Connor kept his hands at his sides.
Alex shifted his weight and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Ye look cheerful,” he muttered.
Connor did not turn his head. “I am getting married, nae attending a fair.”
Alex drew closer, his voice dropping. “Ye see, me Laird, most men on the happiest day of their livestryto look less like they are preparing to sentence someone.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “Most men are fools.”
“Aye,” Alex said under his breath. “Thatdoesexplain weddings.”
Connor let the jibe slide. His jaw already ached from clenching it too tightly, and his shoulders sat square beneath his formal coat. Even the sword at his side felt more natural than the attention fixed on him from every corner of the hall.
For the love of God, he had faced men who wanted his blood with less strain than this.
He was still struggling to keep calm when the door at the far end opened. His thoughts drew to a screeching halt.
Violet entered with Hannah on one side and Aiden on the other.
For a moment, every neat reason Connor had assembled became useless. The gown was not ample enough to hide her. That was the first thing he noticed. She had chosen a gown that moved cleanly when she walked, with the sleeves fitted properly and the line of the bodice adjusted by hands that understood fabric.
Probably hers.
