Epilogue
Beatrice was already beyond grateful for Violet and everything she had done for her, but as the next few days plodded along and the handfasting ceremony drew closer, it was a relief to have someone like her around. The servants’ chatter and million suggestions were driving her mad.
“If she wants a marriage like the rest of ye, she’d marry yer husbands and be done with it,” Violet scolded them, chasing out the latest pack that had descended into Beatrice's chambers.
“Thank ye, Violet,” Beatrice sighed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I was losin’ me mind tryin’ nae to yell at them.”
“I ken they’re excited, and I ken they want to be helpful, but we daenae need to hear every little thing they have to say.”
Violet held up the gown the seamstress had sewn for Bea. It hung to the floor, sweeping a long length of skirt behind it.
“I’ve never worn something so beautiful.” Beatrice rubbed the material between two fingers. “It might be too elegant for someone like me.”
“Nonsense. Just because ye’re marryin’ me barbarian of a brother doesnae mean ye arenae elegant.”
Violet helped her into the dress and fastened up the back of it.
Together, they faced a long mirror, and Beatrice was startled by the woman staring back at her.
She was used to being called beautiful, and it was no surprise when she saw herself that way, but the woman staring back at her was a different type of beautiful.
There was a sparkle in her eyes, shaping the contours of her cheeks.
Whatever change had taken place inside of her over the past few days, it was radiating all over her face.
I cannae really believe that’s me. I daenae even recognize meself.
“This mirror must be a magic one,” she laughed.
Violet was standing behind her and adjusting the dress. “Why is that?” she asked absentmindedly, as if she were only half listening.
“Because I daenae think I’ve ever looked quite so…” Beatrice shrugged and touched her fingers to her face. “Just the way I look in this dress…”
“Aye, ye look like ye’re a day away from becomin' Lady MacSween.”
“Nay, it’s more than that. I daenae ken how to say it.”
Violet rested her chin on Beatrice's shoulder, the two of them studying her reflection together. Beatrice saw Violet’s eyes move sharply over her, trying to figure out what she had not been able to express. After a moment, her eyebrow arched, and she smiled.
“Beatrice, what ye’re seein' is simple to explain.”
“Och? What is it, then?”
Violet hooked a finger under Beatrice's chin. “Ye’re seein' a lass in love.”
“Is Lady MacSween ready for the ceremony?” Tyler asked as Leo poured him a glass of whisky, before they sat across from each other in the study.
“Aye, she has her dress and the other lasses to style her hair. What else could she need?”
Tyler tilted his head, then brought the glass to his lips and took a long sip.
Leo waited for him to speak, as there was clearly a topic he wanted to bring up.
“I suppose I should have asked if her parents would attend,” Tyler said, carefully wiping his mouth. “I ken that her father wasnae thrilled about the marriage bein' recognized by the elders.”
As if I care what that miserable old man has to say.
“They have been invited,” Leo answered. “If they choose nae to attend, then that is their prerogative.”
“A terrible decision, if I do say so meself.”
“Aye, but then we ken that Patrick Whitmore is prone to makin' terrible decisions.”
Leo was already itching to be with Beatrice again.
He had given so little thought to her parents or anyone else, for that matter.
Violet and Shona had kept the two of them apart, giggling as if it were some kind of game to deny him and his bride their carnal desires.
He had seen a pleading look in her eyes when they pulled her away towards her chambers, cackling over their shoulders that the two of them would have plenty of time for lovemaking soon enough.
But we could spend every moment up until the handfastin' ceremony in bed. We could present ourselves in front of the council spent from lovemakin' and all that happier for it.
He knew their moment was coming, and he tried to be as patient as possible. It was a struggle to be without her even for a couple of days. Now that they had consummated what had been simmering between them, it was as if Violet and Shona had torn the air out of his lungs, the blood out of his veins.
“Tomorrow is the ceremony,” Tyler reminded him when he rose from his seat. “Ye only have to wait one more day.”
“Dear God, let me make it till then,” Leo mock-prayed.
But the hours ticked by interminably slow, and the fire that burned inside of him grew higher and hotter with each passing second.
Beatrice had never seen the courtyard look as ethereally gorgeous as it did the night of the handfasting ceremony. There were dozens, maybe over a hundred, torches lit and burning with an effusive, halcyon radiance as clansfolk, friends, and loved ones gathered together in patient waiting.
I’ve been the most patient among them, though. The days I’ve been waitin' have seemed like years.
Above them, a battalion of banners flapped in the wind, the clan colors proudly displayed for everyone to see.
The sight of those colors, of the family and kin she was about to belong to, sent a rush of excitement through her. She had no misgivings about setting aside the name Whitmore, one that meant quite a lot to her through her childhood, and becoming a MacSween.
She saw Violet moving through the crowd, directing and instructing as she stepped.
Everyone wants this to go perfectly, her most of all.
She paused for a beat.
Nay. Nay one wants this to go more perfectly than I do.
But in her heart of hearts, she knew that the only way for this ceremony to go wrong was if Leo walked away from it all.
If there was a storm, a disaster in the kitchens, or if an unruly guest caused a scene, none of that would take this moment from her.
She only wanted to end the day as Lady MacSween.
The trappings of it mattered little to her.
“Ye have the face of a lass in love,” Morag told her as she drifted past, clutching a censer overflowing with aromatic smoke. She lifted the censer so the fragrant fog broke like waves across Beatrice's chest and shoulders. “Aye, for good luck and for fertility.”
“What’s in there?” Beatrice asked.
Morag answered with an exhalation, blowing more of the smoke across Beatrice's body, whispering words too low and quick for her to decipher.
“I have blessed ye, lass,” she said. “Ye have been blessed many times before, I can tell ye that, but this is a blessin' for the ages.” She rested a hand on Beatrice's stomach. “A blessin' for the Laird to have his heir brought forth, healthy and strong.”
Violet approached to hear the last bit, winking at Beatrice as she gently pushed Morag out of the way. “Aye, let them get to the weddin' night first, will ye?”
Morag bowed her head and resumed her route through the congregation, perfumed smoke trailing in her wake. There were several pauses as she waved it over a smiling couple or a cheerful, curious child.
“Are ye ready?” Violet asked.
Beatrice stared out at the sea of faces, her gaze landing on her parents. There was no remorse, no anger, nothing but happiness on both their faces, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of it.
“Me parents have come,” she murmured. “After all their talk and all of me father’s nonsense, they are here.”
“Aye, they came to their senses. Just in time, too.”
Violet took Beatrice by the arm and led her to the dais, where Leo and the clan elder were waiting, two long cords clutched in his long-fingered hand. Leo’s face was solemn but not sad. He wasn’t looking anywhere else; he only had eyes for Bea.
He is takin' this very seriously. I’m giddy and bursting at the seams.
Next to the dais, Eloise and James stood arm in arm, whispering to each other as Beatrice approached. When she drew closer, Eloise pressed her hands together as if in prayer, then touched the tips of her fingers to her lips and extended them towards Bea.
“Me beautiful cousin,” she breathed, barely loud enough for Beatrice to hear.
Not that she needed to; she knew exactly what Eloise was thinking.
She told me that this could happen. She told me that love could be real, and that marriage could mean somethin' more than survival.
Her mother’s eyes glistened with tears in the golden light.
Beatrice was struck by a slight pang of sadness and sympathy for the woman.
Her endless warnings about what life was like, what men were like, were just a reflection of the sacrifices she had made to stay safe.
She had had no other choice, and Beatrice felt an immense gratitude for her at that moment.
I am here and joinin' hands with Leo because she did what she had to do for me, for all of us.
“Aye, doesnae she look bonnie, wee one?” Beatrice heard Shona ask Effie, who responded with an enthusiastic aye!
All the eyes on her made her shy at first. The idea of everyone staring and waiting, studying her dress and her walk as she made her way through the crowd, felt daunting.
But now that she was there and Violet was leading her to her love, none of that seemed to matter.
The eyes on her were kinder than she could have ever imagined, excited for their new Lady to take her place alongside their Laird.
As she was brought to the dais, Leo reached his hand out to her.
There was a pulse of energy when their fingers connected, and Beatrice did her best to hide the shiver it sent through her.
It had only been a couple of days since they had been together, but it felt so much longer than that.
Even in the sacred warmth of the ceremony, her thoughts of him were wanton.
Tyler stood a few steps behind Leo, the light of glory and dignity illuminating his face. He bowed his head as Beatrice took her place on the dais.
“Ye have honored all of us, Beatrice,” he told her. “We are privileged to have ye among our ranks.”
“I am the honored one,” Beatrice responded.
Tyler shook his head and bowed again. “Nay, ye daenae understand the gift ye have given us.”
“And the gift ye shall be givin' us,” Leo added, clasping her hands in his own. “The gifts ye have given me are already beyond words.”
Aye, Leo, then we feel the same about this.
The clan elder joined their hands and looked out over the crowd with his arms held out from his body. “The bindin' of lives, the bindin' of futures.”
Leo took one of the ritual cords and tied it around Beatrice's wrist. The elder handed her the other one, and she did the same. A wave of sighs and muffled sobs rippled through the crowd. People she had never met, had no connection to, smiled at her with the light of pure joy in their eyes.
“Ye are bound together in this life,” the elder continued.
“Ye shall face the world and its troubles as one. Ye shall experience joy and gratitude as one. Ye are promised to each other, come what may.” He leaned forward, his hands resting on theirs.
“Ye are Laird and Lady of this clan till there is nay breath left in either of ye.”
He lifted their hands above his head. As he did, the gathered crowd erupted in cheers, chants, and whistles. The deluge of it was overwhelming, and Beatrice found herself laughing. She felt loved, wanted, admired, and appreciated.
Leo’s gaze did not waver from her, as if the noise meant nothing to him.
It’s as if he cannae even see beyond me. As if there’s nay other person in this courtyard. Only me and him. Beatrice blushed with pride at the thought.
Leo pulled her against him, cupping her face in his hands. He leaned in so close that no one else could have heard what he was going to say to her, even if the courtyard was silent and still.
“In the trees,” he whispered warmly in her ear, “in the wishin' trees. I only wished I could have held ye forever.”
Beatrice rested her hand against his chest, smiling as he pulled away from her. The raucous noise beyond the dais had faded once he spoke to her. The crowd was still cheering and chanting, but she heard nothing aside from Leo’s voice.
“I only wish I could tease ye forever,” she replied, with a coy smirk.
Leo laughed. Not the booming laugh or the rough laugh she had heard from him occasionally. It was a laugh so fragile, so gentle that she was sure he had never made a sound like that before in his life.
It’s for me. He is their Laird, but he is me love.
They faced the crowd together, their wrists bound and their eyes shining towards the future. Both their wishes had been granted, and their fates were made clear.
Destiny, as they understood it, had brought their hands and their lives together, and they looked towards the future as one.
The End?