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!”
Before he could utter a word of protest, she dragged him into the circle of dancing.
The fiddle struck up louder, faster now—joined by stamping feet and clapping that set a rough rhythm through the ground.
The circle moved and they each stepped to the left, changing partners.
Morag danced away to be replaced by Elodie.
“Fancy seeing you here,” she said with a grin. “I never took you as the dancing type.”
“I’m not. But try telling that to Morag.”
She laughed. “It’s easy. Just try to look like you know what you’re doing even though you haven’t got a clue. That’s my strategy.”
He felt himself grinning in response. He matched Elodie’s steps, caught her as she turned and gripped her hand when the dance called for it. Slowly, the crowd blurred into the background and Ronan felt the knot in his shoulders loosen a fraction.
Elodie pulled him into a faster step. “Keep up!”
Ronan huffed. “Ye just watch yer own feet, lass.”
He felt his awareness shifting away from the Steading, away from the people watching, and onto the woman in his arms. Dear God, she felt good. Her nearness, her presence. It felt better than good. It felt...right.
The music shifted, the pace picking up, and now the fiddle was accompanied by people clapping in a sharper rhythm.
The dance changed—faster, more demanding.
He knew the steps—he’d learned them as a youth—but it was clear Elodie didn’t.
It was also clear that she didn’t care a jot.
She stamped and twirled, stepped and spun, all the while grinning and laughing.
“Ye are going to fall,” he warned.
“Then you better catch me!”
He caught her hand and took the lead, guiding her through the steps in quick succession. They moved faster. Turned tighter. The world narrowed to the space between them, the press of her hand in his, the beat of the music.
Elodie made a sudden turn and nearly collided with his shoulder. He caught her without thinking, his arms catching her around the waist.
She looked up at him, breathless. “See? I knew you’d catch me.”
The dance surged again and the clearing erupted into movement—others joining, clapping, spinning, laughing. Ronan felt sweat beading his temples, the heat of exertion in his chest.
“Last round!” someone shouted.
“Oh thank God,” Elodie muttered.
Ronan laughed. The music hit its final, frantic burst. They spun together once, twice. The music reached its crescendo...and stopped.
Silence fell across the clearing broken only by the heavy breathing of the dancers.
Elodie was clasped in his arms, her chest heaving, her eyes fixed on him and suddenly she was all that existed.
Before he knew what he was doing, his hand reached up to cup the back of her neck.
Then he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.
The world went up in flames. He tasted the heat of her lips against his. He smelled the scent of her all around him. He felt the fierce way she kissed him back. Oh Lord, she was kissing him back!
His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her against him and her arms circled his neck, her tongue slipping into his mouth with a hot warmth that sent heat racing all the way to his groin. He pulled her tighter, not wanting this moment to end, wanting it to stretch forever—
“Chief!” The urgent shout rang through the clearing, loud enough to be heard above the music.
Ronan ignored it. Not now. Not now. Go away.
“Chief!”
With a growl, he broke the kiss and stepped back to find Eamon standing a few feet away.
“What is it?” Ronan snapped.
The young man wasn’t wearing his usual cocky grin. Instead, he looked worried. Something cold settled in Ronan’s stomach.
“Two of the scouts have just come in from a patrol,” Eamon told him. “They’ve found tracks.”
Ronan tensed. “Where?”
“Outside the valley. Looked like they were heading for the waymeet.”
“How many?”
“They’re not certain.”
A dark sense of foreboding settled on Ronan’s shoulders. It could be nothing, of course. Travelers. Hunters. Drovers. People looking for help.
Or it could be something much worse. He knew which his instincts favored.
“Pull some of the lads out of the celebrations and double the guard on the perimeter. I’ll go take a look at these tracks.”
“Now?” Elodie said. “But it’s Sarah and David’s wedding!”
“I know.”
She searched his face. “Can’t someone else go?”
He wished they could. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, to kiss her again, to not stop kissing her. Ever. But he had responsibilities he could not shirk.
“Ye know I must.”
“I could come with you.”
“No.” The answer came immediately. “I want ye here where it’s safe.”
She folded her arms and scowled at him. “Is that an order?”
He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I know better than to try and order ye to do anything. It’s a request. Stay here. Please. Enjoy the rest of the celebrations. I’ll be back before ye know it.”
“You had better be. Otherwise I’ll come and drag you back myself.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. Then gave a sharp whistle. “Bran. Skye.”
The music had begun again. People were laughing. Children were chasing one another. The whole Steading was celebrating. He didn’t want to leave, not now, but duty had never cared much for timing.