Page 79 of Highland Storm

“It’s important to have bagpipes at yer weddin’ to ward away any evil spirits,” said Ethan.

“The only spirits here, I assure ye, are no’ evil,” Hawke told them, nodding to the Mountain Magic.

Hawke’s sister, Heather, walked up with his older sister, Lark.

“Congratulations,” they said, giving Hawke kisses on his cheeks and also hugging Phoebe.

“Out of the way,” came the gruff old voice of Callum. “Hawke, ye need a little of my Mountain Magic to seal the weddin’ vows.” He handed Hawke a two-handled wooden cup. Hawke grabbed it with one hand, because his other hand was around Phoebe.

“Nay!” Ethan’s eyes opened wide. “Ye need to hold the weddin’ cup with two hands, or did ye forget?”

“What does it matter?” asked Hawke.

“Hawke, you know better,” said his mother, Wren, pushing through the crowd. “It symbolizes the two clans joining as one.”

“That’s right,” agreed Phoebe. “With both hands on the cup, it shows the other clan ye are no’ holdin’ a weapon.”

“God’s teeth, it is my weddin’ day, of course I’m no’ holdin’ a weapon,” complained Hawke. “I’m holdin’ my wife.” He leaned over and kissed Phoebe on the mouth again.

Ethan cleared his throat. “Dinna tempt the fates on yer weddin’ day, Hawke. Follow tradition.”

Hawke was about to object, when Phoebe stopped him with her finger to his lips. “Just do it, Hawke,” she said. “We could use all the guid luck we can get.”

“All right,” he agreed, using both hands to give the cup to Phoebe to drink first. She took just a sip and gave it back to Hawke. “If I remember correctly, the groom has to finish what’s left in the weddin’ cup. I’ll do that with pleasure,” he said, drinking down the rest of the whisky.

“Dinna forget to pay the piper with a dram of whisky as well,” said Ethan. “It’s what ye’re supposed to do.”

“Ye are far too superstitious,” said Hawke, holding out the cup for Callum to refill it and handing it to Ethan. Ethan smiled and drank it down.

“Now, how about a little food?” Hawke’s eyes roamed over to the cooking fires.

“No’ yet,” said Phoebe.

“That’s right,” agreed Wren. “Your father wanted to toss the caber before he ate, so the food wouldn’t weigh him down.

“Blethers, Mathair. Do we really have to do that now?”

“Here comes the chronicler and his daughter,” said Ethan.

“Who invited them?” asked Hawke.

“Caleb did, of course,” Ethan replied.

“Your father wanted to make sure they were here as well,” said Wren with a smile. “He’s mentioned more than once to them that he is the champion of the caber toss.”

“Hawke, hurry up. I’m ready,” called Storm, standing in the field that would be used to toss the caber.

“Ye are no’ goin’ to beat me on my own weddin’ day,” Hawke shouted to his father. Then he looked over to Phoebe. “Kiss me, fast.”

“All right,” she said, giving him a kiss. “But what was that for?” she asked with a giggle.

“It’s for luck.”

“I thought ye didna believe in luck and curses,” said Ethan. “Or are ye gettin’ superstitious, too?”

“Ye’re right, I dinna need luck,” said Hawke with a shrug and a wink to his wife. “I just wanted to kiss my new bride.”

“Hawke, are ye comin’?” shouted his impatient father.