Page 254 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
The sound sent warmth through Ava’s chest.
Millie had managed to make the time to visit, and that meant more to Ava than she would admit. Isobel looked delightedenough for three brides. Outside the room, Ava could hear feet hurrying along the passageway and the excited hum of the castle.
A while later, a maid came to say they were ready below.
Ava drew one breath and let it out slowly. When she stepped into the passageway, her father was waiting with Bruce tucked under one arm like an offended parcel. The little dog started wriggling at the sight of her and let out a soft bark.
“Well,” her father said, looking her over with teary eyes he was pretending not to have, “that should do.”
“Only do?” Ava asked.
“I am trying nae to flatter ye too much. It encourages vanity.”
Bruce wriggled harder, and her father set him down. The little creature ran straight to her, then sat by her dress as if he too understood that this was a solemn occasion and that his usual chaos could be spared for later.
“Ye see?” her father quipped. “Even the beast has manners for once.”
“Daenae praise him yet,” Ava said. “He may still disgrace us all before the vows.”
Her father offered his arm. She took it, and together they went downstairs.
The hall below was bright with faces she loved. Hector stood waiting in formal dress, broader and steadier than he had been before, the weight of his new place sitting well on him.
By the time she reached the chapel doors, the warmth of the day had settled into her bones.
Then she saw Ciaran.
He stood at the front, waiting for her with no shadow on his face. His gaze rested on her as though she were the only thing in the room worth seeing, and the force of that look reached her even across the space between them.
Her father gave her arm the smallest squeeze and then led her forward.
The chapel was full, yet nobody felt far away. Isobel stood smiling through tears she was no longer bothering to hide. Millie pressed a hand to her mouth. Hector looked proud enough to burst. Bruce sat at the back with a ribbon tied badly around his neck and the expression of a dog tolerating nonsense for love.
Ava came to Ciaran’s side and met his eyes. He smiled. Small enough just for the two of them.
Soon, the ceremony began, and the vows were spoken. Ciaran took her hand, his thumb moving once against her skin. The touch grounded her more than the stone floor beneath her feet.
“Ye’re cold,” he whispered.
“Nerves,” she responded, almost automatically.
“Well, we will have to do something about that later.”
She nodded and laughed, almost like he had said the most hilarious thing in the history of man.
By the time the ceremony was over, relief had spread through the chapel so hard that it almost felt like a collective exhale. Laughter rose from the back when Bruce barked once, as if in approval.
That set off the rest of them.
Isobel began crying outright. Millie embraced Hector hard enough to make him stagger back half a step.
Laird MacKenna clapped Ciaran on the shoulder.“Ye did good, lad. Ye did really good.”
“Thank ye, Laird MacKenna.”
Ava turned to look at her husband once more as the joy of their people echoed around them. She had stood in white before and waited for her life to end. Now she stood in white again and felt only peace.
Ciaran stepped close and bent to kiss her, the warmth in the room wrapping around them. Then he drew back slightly to murmur, “If I let one more person hug ye before I have ye alone, I shall die of patience.”
