Page 47 of Desire of a Highlander

But she would need Ronan’s help to pull it off.

Chapter 11

Ronan had never been particularly fond of ceremonies. Too many people. Too much expectation. And to be honest, he didn’t know why he’d agreed to conduct this one.

Yet as he stood in the clearing, the late afternoon sun warm and pleasant on the back of his neck, he had to admit that perhaps Elodie had been right to bully him into it.

Around him, the clearing they used for training had been transformed. Half the village had been busy all morning stringing ribbons between the trees and decorating every available surface with flowers. It almost looked respectable.

David, one of the newcomers Elodie had brought back, stood beside him, shifting from foot to foot and looking like he was trying not to throw up.

“Ye’ll be fine, lad,” Ronan rumbled, clapping him on the shoulder.

David shot him a look. “Easy for ye to say. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Aye,” Ronan said dryly. “That’s generally how first times work.”

That earned him a faint, nervous laugh.

Ronan clasped his hands behind his back and looked out over the crowd that was beginning to file into the clearing. There were no chairs so most seated themselves cross-legged on the grass although a few industrious souls had rolled over some logs for the oldsters to perch on.

A hush moved through the clearing and heads turned as Sarah appeared at the edge of the trees. She had flowers woven into her hair—small white blooms that caught in the sunlight. Her dress was simple but elegant, and he knew that many of the village women had been up half the night sewing it.

Yet Ronan barely noticed. His gaze had already snapped past Sarah to the woman standing next to her.

Elodie.

She too wore flowers in her hair and they framed her face in a way that made something tight pull in his chest.

With an effort he cleared his throat and stepped forward, clasping his hands together in front of him. He arranged his features into what he hoped was an appropriately solemn expression. He’d been to handfastings before so he knew the words but never had he expected to be the one conducting such a ceremony. Strange the things life threw at you sometimes.

Sarah and Elodie swept through the crowd and came to stand next to David. The young man, so nervous only moments before, now seemed as excited as a child on the eve of Yule. His eyes sparkled as they fixed on his bride to be and a wide grin curled his lips. Sarah, for her part, tried to be more demure, giving David a delicate smile but the effect was ruined a moment later when she giggled like a lass.

Having escorted Sarah, Elodie stepped back, but not before her eyes met Ronan’s. He blinked, gathered his thoughts and instructed David and Sarah to hold hands. When they’d done this, he took the handfasting ribbon—a piece of one of his plaids that he’d hastily washed—and tied it around their intertwined hands.

Clearing his throat, he pitched his voice to carry over the crowd.

“David and Sarah, we are all here today to witness the joining of yer lives. A handfasting is more than words spoken or hands bound together. It’s a promise—to stand beside one another in times of hardship as well as plenty. To share each other’s burdens, and to rejoice in each other’s joys.” He smiled at Sarah. “Sarah, do ye freely choose David to walk beside ye through whatever lies ahead?”

“Of course I do!” Sarah said with a smile.

“David, do ye freely choose Sarah to do the same?”

David nodded. “With all my heart.”

“Then join yer hands.”

They did so and Ronan awkwardly wrapped the plaid around them and tied it.

“By these vows, by yer own free choice, and before all gathered here, I declare ye handfasted. May yer days be filled with more laughter than sorrow.” He paused. “Well, that’s it I suppose. Ye are husband and wife.”

The words were simple but their effect was not. A huge cheer exploded through the clearing. People surged forward, clapping David on the back, hugging Sarah, laughing.

Faye and an army of helpers appeared carrying platters of food. Blankets were spread out on the ground. Someone had a fiddle—Ronan didn’t know where he’d found it—and began playing a merry tune. The clearing came alive. It was suddenly filled with laughter and music and dancing.

Ronan watched for a moment then slipped back from the crowd. The forge needed checking. The perimeter needed walking. There were too many things that needed his attention.

But he’d only gone a few steps when young Morag intercepted him. The lass grabbed his hand. “Ronan! Come and dance!”