Page 141 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

Donaldina met Roy’s gaze.

“Roy MacIver,” the priest continued, “will ye take Donaldina MacNicol as yer wife, honoring her blood, her name and the authority she carries?”

Roy answered without hesitation. “I will.”

Father Maol turned to her. “Donaldina MacNicol, will ye take Roy MacIver as yer husband, honoring his blood, his name and the duty he carries?”

Once, the question would have felt like a door closing. Now it seemed to open before her.

“I will.”

Father Maol took the ceremonial cord from the altar. It was not the one that had fallen during the attack. Mairi had woven a new length from threads of MacIver red and MacNicol green.

The priest wound it around their joined hands. Roy’s thumb brushed once across Donaldina’s knuckles. It was the lightest touch. It steadied her more than any oath.

They spoke the traditional vows first, promising loyalty to God and clan, shelter in winter, aid in hardship, and honor to the houses that shaped them.

Then Father Maol stepped back. Donaldina asked that space be left for words of their own.

She looked at Roy. The hall waited.

“I was promised tae ye before I understood what promises cost,” she said. “I believed the accord meant me future had been decided by men who would never live it.”

Roy’s hand tightened around hers.

“But ye came tae Dun Ard and gave me what the agreement didnae.”

His eyes held hers.

“Choice.”

Donaldina drew a slow breath.

“I choose ye, Roy MacIver. Nae because a King commands it. Nae because the clans expect it. I choose ye because ye stand beside me without asking me tae become smaller.”

Something unguarded entered Roy’s face. He lowered his head slightly, as though the words had struck too deeply to meet without effort.

When he spoke, his voice was rougher than before. “I spent years believing anything I loved would be taken from me.”

Donaldina’s throat tightened. Roy looked at their bound hands.

“Ye taught me that protecting something doesnae mean keeping it behind walls. It means trusting it tae stand beside ye.”

His gaze returned to hers.

“I choose ye, Donaldina MacNicol. Wherever that choice leads.”

Father Maol placed one hand over theirs. “Then before God, clan and all gathered here, I declare ye husband and wife.”

For one heartbeat, the hall remained quiet, then both clans erupted. Cheers struck the rafters. Cups hammered against tables. Hamish shouted something indecently triumphant before an elder silenced him with a glare.

Roy released the ceremonial cord from their hands. Donaldina scarcely had time to draw breath before he touched her face. His palm was warm against her cheek, rough with old scars.

“May I?” he asked.

She smiled. “A little late for caution.”

Roy kissed her. The hall disappeared beneath the warmth of his mouth and the quiet certainty of his hand at her waist. Donaldina gripped the front of his coat, mindful of his injured shoulder but unwilling to allow distance between them.