Page 119 of Steel & Surrender

Standing on the steps before the chapel, his hands bound tightly against Brìghde’s, his chest ached with pride.

What a difference a year and a half made. All those months ago, he’d stood amongst the crowd of well-wishers watching Maggie and Rab make their vows to each other.

He’d hated how happy everyone looked.

He’d scorned how everyone seemed to think a ceremony like this somehow promised a blessed future.

It was just one day in a long life. A long marriage.

He’d been wrong.

Standing there now, Greig finally understood.

It was just one day, aye, but it changed everything.

It was the moment a man chose his path, when he bound himself to another, not through duty or expectation, but love.

A day had passed since he’d sunk to his knees before Brìghde in the chapel behind him. His father had agreed that they would be wed as soon as they wished it—and they wanted their future to begin as soon as possible.

His gaze settled upon Brìghde. She stood before him in the same bonnie blue-grey kirtle she had worn on the night of the Harvest Games dance. The color deepened the grey of her eyes, made the silver of her hair gleam. She’d braided it back and woven through small sprays of late-blooming heather. And there—upon her wrist—the bracelet he’d given her, catching the light.

A chill wind whipped around her, tugging at her skirts, yet she paid it no mind.

She had never looked more beautiful to him.

Her fingers tightened, drawing him back to the moment.

Around them, the courtyard had fallen into a hush. The gathered clan watched from below the chapel steps—his family, hers, their people—all bearing witness.

His mother dabbed at her eyes, her smile radiant through her tears. His father stood beside her, his expression as inscrutable as ever, yet there was no mistaking the warmth in his gaze.

Behind them, the Boyds stood close together. Ada wept openly, Breac’s hand firm at her back, while Eòghan blinked furiously, blushing.

Greig’s chest tightened.

He’d come close to losing all of this.

Father Malcolm’s voice rose, calling them to speak their vows.

Greig’s gaze locked with Brìghde’s as he spoke. “I was forged for battle, or so I once believed … but ye have shown me that a man’s greatest strength lies not in his blade, but in what he protects.” His voice carried across the outer courtyard, rising above the whine of the wind. “I vow to protect ye, honor ye, and cherish ye above all else.”

Her breath hitched, her eyes shining as he continued, “Ye are my hearth, my home, my peace. And I am yers … body and soul.” He paused then, his throat aching as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. “And I swear this, before all gathered here … I will never turn from ye. Never shame ye. Never leave ye to stand alone.”

A flicker of movement caught his eye—his father, shifting slightly, as if those words had struck home.

Brìghde stared back at him. A tear escaped then, rolling down her cheek. She did not wipe it away.

“As the tide returns to the shore, so will I always remain faithful to ye,” she replied huskily. “As the mountains stand through wind and storm, so will I stand with ye.” The crowd stirred at her powerful words, yet her gaze never wavered. “I bind my life to yers … from this moment until my last.”

A deep silence followed.

Brìghde’s fingers trembled in his as Father Malcolm unwrapped the plaid ribbon that bound them.

Smiling, Greig took the bracelet from her wrist only long enough to press his lips to the cool silver, then settled it back into place.

Father Malcolm lifted his hands, his voice ringing out as he declared them husband and wife. Cheers rose almost at once, breaking the stillness and echoing off stone.

Reaching up, Greig cupped her face with both hands. “No more doubts,” he murmured, too low for others to hear. “No more fear.”