“Are ye well?” he asked quietly, leaning close enough so that only she could hear.
“Aye,” she said, though her voice carried a thread of tension that suggested otherwise. “It’s just that… there are many people.”
He understood immediately.
The fair had been crowded, certainly, but she had not been the central focus, and neither had the clan. Besides, the harvest festival drew people from every corner of his lands and several neighboring ones—faces Edith had never seen, and names she could not possibly know. And they all watched her with curious, scrutinizing gazes.
He put his hand on the small of her back with a firmness he hoped communicated something steadier than his own racing thoughts, guiding her out into the courtyard.
The courtyard beyond had completely transformed overnight.
Long tables stretched along the perimeter, laden with enough food to feed the entire Highlands twice over. Musicians had gathered near the central green, their instruments already filling the air with the bright, layered sound of pipes and fiddles warming toward the celebration ahead.
Banners in Hallow colors hung from every post and archway, and beyond the courtyard, Aaron could see the fields stretching toward the horizon, dotted with the smaller gatherings and stalls of the wider village.
It was, by any measure, the largest celebration Hallow had hosted in years. And every single soul present seemed determined to watch the Laird and his betrothed walk through it.
“There are too many people,” Edith repeated, her grip on his arm tightening further as they moved deeper into the crowd. “I daenae recognize half of them.”
“Neither do I,” Aaron admitted. “Many have traveled from neighborin’ lands. Tenants of MacFaris, I suspect, among others.”
Edith’s steps faltered slightly at the name, though she recovered quickly enough that he doubted anyone else had noticed.
He pulled her closer instinctively, anchoring her against him as they continued through the press of well-wishers and curious onlookers offering bows and congratulations at every turn.
Edith looked up at him then, smiling. It was not the careful, performed smile she always offered whenever they were together in front of the councilmen and clansfolk. It was smaller, more genuine, meant entirely for him.
Aaron’s chest warmed at once. The smile had landed somewhere beneath his ribs with considerably more force than he was prepared for, and he did not know how best to receive it.
He looked away quickly, greeting the crowd and accepting congratulations and well-wishes with practiced grace.
Soon, Edith’s composure steadied until she settled into the performance she had perfected over weeks of careful practice. Except it no longer felt like a performance to him.
Aaron found himself warmed by the way she charmed a cluster of young girls who had gathered to admire her gown, and the way she genuinely laughed at an elderly tenant’s joke about married life.
For the first time, he was allowing himself to be truly present, and for the first time, the event did not seem as frivolous as he had always thought it to be.
By the time they reached the central green where the musicians waited, the morning had settled completely into itself, the sun climbing higher and warming the air enough that several of the older guests had retreated to the shaded tables along the courtyard’s edge.
Caelan appeared beside him, his expression carrying the solemnity he reserved for official announcements.
“Me Laird,” he said, loudly enough for the people nearby to hear. “The clan awaits the openin’ dance.”
Aaron’s chest tightened. This was the moment he had been both anticipating and dreading since the village fair—the public declaration before the entire clan, the first dance that would mark the betrothal as fully, formally real in the eyes of everyone watching.
He turned to Edith. She had gone slightly pale, though she kept her chin high as always.
“Are ye ready?” he asked quietly.
“Are ye?” she countered, a nervous smile touching her lips.
Aaron found himself smiling back, something easing in his chest despite the weight of everyone’s attention.
“Aye,” he said. “I believe I am.”
He led her toward the center of the cleared space, the crowd parting around them silently.
The musicians struck the opening notes of the same Highland song that had played at their first dance weeks ago, the melody settling over the gathered people.
