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“I’ve spoken to your father already. And if you will agree to take me as your husband, Reina, I would not wait another moment to make you mine. Father Simon is just behind me, willing to perform the ceremony.”

“Your. . . wife?”

“’Tis too soon. I thought as much. Oriana told me the plan was mad, that you would wish for a proper wedding. But with your father here, and you told me last eve—”

He did not finish as Reina tossed her arms around him, nearly toppling them both. When he leaned down to kiss her, she did not care if anyone were to come upon them. Reina cared only that Galien was still here.

His tongue touched hers, and much too quickly, the kiss became something more than a promise of two people who had agreed to wed. Galien confirmed it when he broke away to look at her. “I will admit to wishing for a wedding night, too. I would make you mine this very day, Reina, in every single way.”

Another kind of feeling, this one more primal, prompted Reina to step back and nod toward the plaid. “I am ready to become your wife, Galien. In truth, I’ve been ready for some time.”

Just as he had once before, Galien wrapped the plaid around her in a similar style as he wore himself. Standing back, he offered her his hand. “I hope I’ve given them sufficient time,” he said, wrapping his fingers through hers.

“Sufficient time?” She floated, hand in hand with her betrothed, to the hall. There, where moments ago trestle tables had been filled with the remnants of the morning meal, the hall was now empty of furnishings. Her father stood to the left side of the hall with Galien’s family. Oriana beamed at her.

“My sister convinced me you would say aye and helped me to prepare,” Galien whispered as they walked into the hall. Flowers had materialized where there were none before. The smell of lilac beneath them announced at least some new rushes, though it was not possible they’d all been changed so quickly.

“That is your priest?” she asked of the rather handsome-looking man, likely the same age as her father, standing just below the dais where Reina had been waiting for Galien to appear during the meal.

Was it truly possible she stood here now, still mid-morn, about to become his bride?

“Aye, lass. His name is Father Simon. He’s been at Brockburg since before I was a babe.

“The contracts?” she whispered, still unbelieving this was happening.

“Signed,” he replied. “With the stipulation that you would approve of the hasty betrothal and marriage.”

“Hasty,” she said as others began to enter the hall. Warriors. Servants. One by one, they came from every direction. “Could we have waited a sennight even?” Reina laughed. “Or perhaps until midday?”

“I would delay it if you prefer.” Galien stopped their progress, watching for her response. Leaning forward, he whispered, “But I am loath to spend another day without you in my bed.”

Something she also very much anticipated. “We will live here?” she asked, the import of what was about to happen fully realized as she watched her father speak quietly to the chief.

“My parents have given us a holding just west of here, just across the border to Bristol. If it pleases you, we will live there.”

“And ’tis closer to Anbarth.”

“Aye.”

This time, she caught the eye of the Lady of Brockburg. An Englishwoman, as Reina thought she had been herself. In truth, as Lady Juliette smiled at her, Reina realized she was English too. Learning about her parents, her beginnings, had not changed her. Only opened Reina’s eyes to what had been there all along. Her parents had raised her, loved her, sacrificed for her. If she’d never felt as if she truly belonged, it was not because they did not make her feel it to be so. It had been because the partial truths they gave her made Reina question everything, including her own place.

“My mother,” she said, the only sadness marring this occasion.

“We will visit her soon,” Galien responded. “After Dennochbrook.”

They’d reached Father Simon. “Dennochbrook?” she asked the man who was about to become her husband.

“Aye. I thought perhaps you would like to see it. From there we can go to Anbarth, collect your belongings, and visit with your mother. And Joan, too, of course.”

Just then, Reina realized the voices behind her had grown. Turning, she was surprised to see the hall nearly filled. From less than twenty people to well over fifty. And they were still coming.

“Galien,” she said, turning toward him. “There are so many people suddenly.”

“Rodric has gone to fetch them,” he replied as the volume behind them grew and grew.

“Them?” There must have been near one hundred people.

“Your clan,” he replied. “They are your clan.”