“Are ye willin’, Connor Davies, Laird of clan McLaren, to stand with this woman in love and honor?”
“Aye,” Connor said firmly, never looking away from her. “I give her me heart and me word, for all the days God grants me.”
The elder turned then to Eva, his gaze kind and searching. “And are ye willing, Eva Whyte, to bind yer life to his in truth and faith?”
“Aye,” Eva replied, her voice soft but unshaken. “I give him me love and me strength, and I will walk beside him wherever life leads.”
The elder nodded and lifted the braided cord, green and white woven tight with care. He wrapped it gently around their joined hands, binding them together.
“By this bond,” the elder said, “ye are joined, not by force but by choice.”
Connor squeezed Eva’s hands, leaning close as he murmured, “I’ll cherish ye, always.”
Eva smiled through the tears gathering in her eyes and whispered back, “And I’ll stand with ye, nay matter the storm.”
The cord rested warm against her skin, a promise made visible.
The elder stepped back, his voice lifting.
“Before these witnesses, I declare ye bound in love and purpose.”
The chapel seemed to exhale as murmurs of blessing filled the air. Connor lifted Eva’s hands and pressed a reverent kiss to her knuckles, his smile unguarded. In that moment, she felt wholly chosen.
As the cord was loosened and their hands freed, Connor drew Eva close, resting his forehead against hers.
“Lady McLaren,” he said softly, a teasing warmth in his tone.
Eva laughed quietly, joy spilling free as she replied, “Me husband.”
Cheers erupted around them as they kissed. Eva felt her knees go weak at Connor’s touch.
Soon they were walking from the chapel to the great hall. She looped her arm through Connor’s.
“Aye, ye may have me as yer wife, but daenae think ye can command me every moment,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Connor’s brows rose, a smirk tugging at his lips, and he leaned close, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “We’ll see, lass,” he said, “I’ve spent enough time training to manage stubborn swordsmen; a stubborn wife shouldnae prove much different.”
Eva laughed as she accepted his kiss.
The hall was a wonder of celebration, long oak tables groaning under the weight of the feast. Roasted meats glistened with rich sauces, and fresh loaves of bread were piled high, alongside bowls of butter and honey. There were platters of smokedfish, cheeses, and pickled vegetables, and every table had large flagons of mead and red wine for the guests.
Connor lifted his cup and cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping across the assembled family and clan members.
“Hear me, friends and kinsfolk,” he began, voice firm but filled with joy, “today we welcome me bride, Eva, Lady McLaren. A villager from our own village. A strong and fearless woman that I’ve bound meself to, and she is bound to me.”
The gathered cheered and applauded.
“Also, we welcome me long-lost brother, Michael, returned to us after many years.”
The hall erupted in cheers and clanging cups in a chorus of clan pride.
Connor’s eyes found Eva’s, and he smiled warmly, seeing her cheeks flush at the attention, before lowering his voice to her alone.
“Aye, well done, Laird,” Eva whispered, teasing, “ye make it sound as if I had nay choice in becomin’ Lady McLaren.”
Connor chuckled, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “Nay choice at all, lass. Do ye nae remember? Being me wife was yer punishment for stealin’ from me,” he murmured,pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “Ye are mine now, and I’ll nae let anyone, least of all ye, forget it.”
“Aye, me punishment will be one I will simply have to endure,” she teased.
