Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends #1)(32)
Agnes cried out, “She looks like an angel!”
“Aye, she does,” Brigid replied.
“I’m standing right here,” I said.
Their laughter tinkled into the room like rustled wind chimes as Brigid moved beside me. She wore an emerald gown, setting off her creamy, alabaster skin and deep-copper hair. It was a shame Fingall couldn’t see her now—he wouldn’t be marrying her tonight like they’d wanted—but not once had she let his absence bring her down. In fact, my altruistic girl had been the most ecstatic of the group about my big night ahead.
Brigid’s silver eyes danced with excitement as she grabbed my hand, leading me out the door. “Come. They’ll be waitin’ for us.”
Our small, female caravan, led by Iain’s newest guard, Fergus, rushed to catch up with everyone. We crossed the drawbridge and traveled down a narrow path in the woods, emerging into a large clearing. Two huge bonfires blazed about thirty feet apart, bordering either side of a natural amphitheater. The entire clan mingled on the near side of the clearing.
A priest I hadn’t noticed before stepped through the crowd. “Hello, my dear Brigid.” He grasped her hands and kissed her forehead. He spoke with an English accent. “And, my dear, you must be Isobel.” His sun-leathered face crinkled into a smile. “I’m Father John. I’m to marry you tonight.”
With all the commotion, I’d wondered if there would be any formality. Relief must have shown on my face, because the priest laughed. “Never fear, my child. We’ll bless these unions in the eyes of God.”
Iain burst through the crowd, looking nothing short of magnificent. He wore a crisp white shirt beneath his plaid with the brightly colored ribbons from my pennant fastened to his hip by his family’s brooch. Two fresh braids at each temple draped down below his shoulders, framing the clean-shaven face of the gorgeous man I remembered from California; and yet, in so many ways, he seemed worlds-apart different.
My heart stopped as Iain gave me a head-to-toe visual filled with admiration, love, and a healthy dose of lust. In two strides, he reached my side, pulled me into his arms, and kissed the breath right out of me.
“You’ve never looked more radiant, Isa.” He brushed the words into my ear on a whisper, sending goose bumps down my side with a punctuating growl.
Father John tsk-tsked us, pushing his arms between our shoulders, separating our faces.
Iain’s glare stopped the clergyman.
“Wait until I marry you, Iain. You’ve only a few minutes longer.”
Iain defiantly strengthened his hold around me, and Father John chuckled, shaking his head.
The priest climbed onto a low wooden platform erected between the bonfires, and a hush fell upon the crowd. Fragrant smoke from juniper and oak branches swirled up into the night breeze, floating toward the full moon that peeked above the pine-topped horizon.
Father John began. “We congregate in celebration of life: to rejoice in the fertility we are granted, to cherish what we’ve been given, and to bring forward life anew. In honor of those things, we bind together several couples in holy matrimony. Before God and your clan, these men and women pledge their love and loyalty until parted by death.
“This celebration of Beltane is a special one. Laird Iain Brodie will be mated to his bride Isobel, bringing strength to the clan and surrounding it with love and stability.”
Iain tightened his arms around me at the priest’s words. I glanced up, locking eyes with the man whose love for me poured out in his mesmerizing gaze. He broke our silent connection, kissing my temple as the ceremony continued.
“Step forward, Iain and Isobel. Do you accept the terms of this matrimony with all your heart and with loyalty to God?”
“I do,” we replied in unison.
The priest nodded, then motioned to another couple, one of Iain’s guards and his betrothed standing on our left.
“Step forward, Calum and Rowena. Do you accept the terms of this matrimony with all your heart and with loyalty to God?”
The guardsman and his bride pledged their vows beside us, as did seven other couples paired together to be united. Loud cheering concluded the group wedding as Iain’s lips claimed mine in a searing kiss.
The crowd swept away the priest and disassembled the platform, tossing the dry wood into the hungry flames. A sea of people parted into an aisle, creating a path leading between the two fires and the empty clearing beyond.
Iain bowed his head to me and said, “Weel, Mrs. Iain Brodie . . . ready?”
I nodded, grinning wide. He led me straight between the blazes, pausing midway through. Heat flared against my back, but I had no complaint as Iain embraced me, kissing me more passionately than he’d ever done before. My knees buckled as I melted into the full-throttle kiss, our lips and tongues intertwining. A white-hot blaze ignited deep within me, surpassing the two burning behind us. The crowd hooted and shouted as Iain ushered us the rest of the way through the tunnel of fire.
We turned and faced the crowd from the other side. Iain pulled me back against his solid chest, locking his hands around my waist. I dropped my head back, grinning broadly, witnessing the historical event unfold.
The other newlywed couples followed in our footsteps, even emulating our midjourney kiss. Afterward, a group of men herded one representative livestock of every kind: horse, cow, sheep, and goat. People carried various crop items through, like wheat and root vegetables. Within minutes, the entire clan had passed through, and the celebration kicked into high gear.