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“I do, with pride, as is my right and duty as Chief of this Clan,” Johnne says, his voice booming.
“Very well,” the priest says.
Johnne steals a kiss on my cheek, a quick hug, then steps back to join the rest of our Clan. The rest of the ceremony is full of pomp and circumstance. No matter that I’d promised myself I’d commit every moment to memory, it all passes by too quick, and truthfully, I can’t take my eyes off Duncan.
As the words end, the priest has us take each other’s hands. He lays a length of cloth that is the tartan of the MacGregors over our hands.
“In the eyes of God himself, you are bound. Before the eyes of your friends, family, and Clan gathered, you are bound. And let this tartan symbolize, physically, how in spirit you are committing one to another. You are bound, from here on out, to care for, to love, and to have one another.”
As he speaks, he wraps the cloth around our wrists then ties it in a loose knot.
“You may kiss the bride,” he says with a broad smile.
Duncan doesn’t do half measures. He grabs my waist and kisses me full-on with so much force he bends me in half, until I’m resting in his arms. The Clan explodes with cheers and laughter as the music rises in volume.
At long last, I have the one thing I’ve always wanted.
The love of my life.
Epilogue
“Yuir fine, Quinn,”Alesoun says.
Sweat is pouring into my eyes, and I move to wipe it away, but before I can another contraction comes and consumes my world. I clench my eyes, grit my teeth, and I push. Magical energy surges, suppressing the pain and discomfort but I’m still acutely aware of it.
I push harder, straining for all I’m worth, then it happens. Fast. The pressure is suddenly gone as the baby passes through and out. I gasp as the contraction comes to an end, then I can’t breathe, straining to hear the first sounds of air being taken by my child.
An instant later there’s a smack followed by a loud, strong cry, and I can breathe. I lie back on the bed, and before my head is down Agnes has placed another pillow. She wipes my forehead with a damp cloth and smiles.
“You’ve done fine, child,” she says.
“What is it?” I ask, panting.
“You’ve birthed a beautiful girl,” Alesoun says.
Alesoun walks up beside the bed, my child swaddled in her arms. She is making soft, cooing noises as she bounces the baby in her arms. She leans over and places the baby on my chest. It makes suckling noises even before I shift it to my breast. It takes a few attempts before the baby and I figure out how to do this, but once it latches on silence falls.
“Congratulations,” Agnes says, patting my arm and pulling the blankets up to cover me and the baby.
“Thank you.” I smile.
Three of the tiny Fae with wings are dancing with the light beams streaming in through the window of the cottage that Duncan built for us. It’s a fine home. One that will be perfect for us to raise our family in.
I look down at our firstborn and my heart swells so much it hurts. She is beautiful. She has shockingly red curls matted to her head. Her pink skin is perfect and her tiny fingers grasp at my breast. She even has tiny fingernails that will need a trimming soon. One of her eyes pops open, the same piercing blue of her father, and I swear she’s searching for me.
“Shh, shh, shh,” I whisper, and she closes her eye and resumes nursing.
“Ach, at least tell me they’re okay!” Duncan shouts.
“You’ll be keeping yuir voice down or I’ll box yuir ears,” Agnes says.
“Don’t tease him, Agnes. Let him in,” I say.
She looks over her shoulder with a disapproving glare but she’s more than accustomed to my ignoring many of her traditions. Duncan doesn’t wait; he pushes past her, racing into the room until he sees the baby on my breast, and then he stops in his tracks with wide eyes and open mouth.
“Oh,” he manages to say.
“Duncan, meet our daughter,” I say, carefully lifting to avoid breaking the suction of her nursing.
