EPILOGUE
Perhaps a second weddingceremony was a little excessive.
Skye had decided that she didn’t care. After all, her last wedding had been something of a disappointment, on account of the kidnapping.
“Beautiful,” Helena sighed, taking a step back and smiling. “Oh, I’m so glad to be at yer wedding, love.”
Skye laughed, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. The gown was made of Bryden tartan, with pearls sewn into the hem. She’d decided that she liked that style, and it made a clicking sound as she walked, making people get out of her way. Hard not to enjoy that.
“Ye were at me wedding before, Maither.”
“Aye, but that was a political arrangement.” Helena chuckled. “This is the real thing.”
She offered her arm, and Skye took it, the two of them drifting out of the room and along the hallway.
Laughter and music drifted up from the Great Hall, where the party was waiting.
Renewing their vows was all well and good, but Skye had decided to have aparty. She appeared at the banister of the gallery, leaning over. The crowd beneath let out a rollicking cry of delight, raising their glasses and applauding madly.
Evander stood in the middle of the crowd, his head tilted up, looking at her with a smile.
Helena dropped her arm. “Go to him, lass,” she whispered.
Skye threw a smile back at her mother and began to descend the stairs, her hand trailing over the banister.
The crowd parted, creating a space for her and Evander to move together. The floor almost seemed to ripple under her feet. The music died down, but she knew they were only taking a breath, preparing to play again in earnest.
“Ye look beautiful, love,” Evander whispered, holding out his hand.
She took it, their fingers entwining.
“Ye daenae look so bad yerself,” she responded, letting her gaze rake down his loose white linen shirt and thick kilt. “Are ye ready to dance?”
He pulled a face. “Never, I’m afraid.”
She laughed loudly, tilting her head back and letting him spin her in a slow, lazy circle.
“Skye!” came a familiar voice.
Skye broke into a smile, turning to see her cousin elbowing his way through the crowd, towing Nora behind him.
Now that she had properly met Nora—she didn’t count the strange, hurried meeting that day at the Leanan Festival—she had decided that she liked her.
Nora was whip-smart, determined, and rangy. Skye would never have imagined that her cousin would choose a woman like Nora, or that Norawould choose a man likehim.
And yet here they were.
“Sorry, sorry, I am interrupting yer dance.” Creighton laughed. “I just had to speak to ye both. Congratulations! It feels like this is yer real wedding, and the last ceremony was just… oh, I daenae ken. A betrothal?”
“In a sense, it was.” Skye shrugged. “So, Creighton, are ye still planning to wage war on Clan Bryden?”
Creighton snorted, tapping his chin and pretending to think. “Ach, I daenae ken. I suppose it depends on how much ye annoy me, aye, Cousin?”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward him, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Skye laughed, slapping teasingly at his arm.
“Let the woman go, ye wretch!” Nora yelped, tugging at her husband’s arm. “Ye will tangle her hair or wrinkle her clothes.”
Creighton chuckled. “I remember this wee lass coming back from playing outside fairly coated in mud.”
