Page 114 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
“In the presence of clan and kin, do ye, Kian Wright of Clan McKenna, swear to protect, love, and cherish this woman, now and for the rest of yer days?”
“I do,” Kian said, his voice deep and sure. “With all me heart, I do.”
“And do ye, Abigail Lawson of Clan McEwan, swear to walk beside this man, to guard his heart as he guards yers, and to love him with all the strength in yer soul?”
“I do,” Abigail whispered, her fingers tightening around his. “I do, with every part of me being.”
The minister gently wrapped the cord around their joined hands, binding them together in the old ways.
“By earth, by stone, by fire and sky, let these hands be fasted. Let nay hardship tear them apart, and let nay shadow fall between.”
As he tied the final knot, the silence in the chapel was thick with finality.
The minister stepped back. “I now pronounce ye man and wife.”
Kian looked down at her, and for a moment, the world faded into the background. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted slightly, her eyes shimmering with tears she had not yet shed.
But it wasn’t just her beauty that stole his breath; it was the courage she carried, the loyalty in her bones, the strength that had drawn him to her like a moth to a flame.
She was his match in every way. Bold. Gentle where he was fierce. And when she smiled up at him, it felt like home.
“I love ye, Abigail,” he murmured in a low voice, for her ears only. “And I always will.”
“Aye,” she breathed, smiling. “And I love ye, Kian Wright.”
Their hands bound, their vows spoken, they turned to face their clan, not as two but as one.
The chapel erupted with cheers, laughter, and joy. The future unfolded before them as they started the procession from the chapel to the castle.
In the Great Hall, long tables were piled high with roasted meats, preserves, and cheeses, but notably absent of bread and fresh vegetables due to the scarcity of such things.
Musicians played lively reels as the clans celebrated, the tartans of Clan Reid, McEwan, and McKenna mingling in warm camaraderie. At the head of it all sat Kian, his hand resting gently on Abigail’s, his new bride glowing beside him.
He stood up slowly and raised his goblet high. The room fell into a hush at the scrape of his chair. His gaze swept across the hall, lingering on the familiar faces of his kin and the new ones who now stood under his roof as allies.
“To every man and woman in this room, ye are welcome here, nae as guests but as family,” he said, his voice deep and sure. “Clan McKenna is strong, but now we are stronger still, with the Reid and McEwan blood among us.”
Cheers rose from the tables, echoing off the stone walls.
Kian raised his goblet again to quiet them. “For too long, we’ve turned a blind eye to each other’s troubles. But nay longer. From this day on, let there be McKenna, Reid, and McEwan in one bond, one braitherhood.”
He turned slightly, glancing down at Abigail, pride warming his expression.
“And it begins with this union, this love. Me bonnie wife, Abigail, has shown me what it means to stand strong, even when the world tries to break ye.” His voice softened as he looked into her eyes. “She is fierce, she is kind, and she is ours now. A McKenna through and through.”
Abigail’s eyes glistened, and the hall erupted again in loud cheers, fists pounding on tables.
Kian grinned, raising his goblet one final time. “To peace. To loyalty. To family.”
The clans echoed his words, their voices ringing strong.
He sat down and wrapped his arm around Abigail’s shoulders, pulling her close.
“Ye handled that speech like a man born to rule,” she whispered, her smile teasing.
“Aye, well,” he murmured. “I had the finest reason in the world to say the words with all me heart.”
As the feast progressed and guests took to the dance floor, Kian leaned back, content.
