Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector #2)(71)

“Hello? I know you’re in there. I just heard you talking about Auntie Jo being huge before I knocked.”

“I’m almost ready, T. Everyone just needs to be patient.” Joanna yanked the much more comfortable maternity sundress down over her head and shook it down her body. This was a lot more comfortable, but she sure didn’t look like the average bride.

“Tyler, are you still out there?” Lucia turned toward the door.

“Maybe.” A shuffling just outside the door gave him away. “If I’m ’posed to be I am.”

“Yes. You’re supposed to be because you have to give Auntie Jo away like we practiced. You wait right there so you don’t get dirty. Okay?” Lucia fastened the brooch necklace around Joanna’s neck and did her best to fluff some life back into Joanna’s limp curls. “Curls are futile. Not with this humidity.”

“Just pull it back into a bun. I don’t care at this point.” Joanna kicked off the lace pumps she’d donned to match the wedding dress and slid on her leather sandals in their place. “Might as well be comfortable from head to toe.”

“You look beautiful,” Lucia said as she stepped back and smiled. Her gaze fell to Joanna’s more-ample-than-usual bustline and her smile grew even wider. “Trust me. Grant will love the dress.” She hurried to the bedroom door and pulled it open. “Oh, Tyler!”

Poor Tyler. Joanna could tell by Lucia’s tone that the boy was in trouble.

“I told you to stay clean.”

“You know I can’t wear white, Mama. You said so yourself.” Tyler proudly marched into the room, grass stains on the belly and elbows of his white dress shirt and the knees of his white pants. He held out his hand to Joanna. “You ready, Auntie Jo? You sure look pretty. I don’t think you look huge at all.”

Joanna’s heart melted. No one with an ounce of feelings could stay angry with the boy and he knew it. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

They made their way down to the sandy bend in the river located just below Grant’s home. Guests filled the white chairs lined up along the beach in front of the white arch laced with ribbons of the MacDara colors and vines of ivy. Bagpipers stood on either side of the arch, and drummers and fiddle players stood beside them. The musicians serenaded the crowd with what Joanna could only guess were authentic Scottish ballads.

Dwyn MacKay stood inside the arch with a length of MacDara tartan ribbon and a dagger in his hands. Grant had warned her about the ceremony. Told her it was the old way—not so far back as the century from which he came, but it was a part of Scotland’s history. He’d hesitantly asked her if she’d be willing to do it. Whatever made Grant happy was fine with her since they’d already made the marriage legal at the courthouse last week.

Her heart rate shifted to an excited hammering as she and Tyler stood at the end of the path of white rose petals and waited. Grant was breathtakingly handsome in full Highland dress with his vest and short suitcoat. Broad chest, hair slicked back into a sexy man bun. A sigh escaped her. She could definitely spend the rest of her life with this man. This is the right decision.

Grant’s gaze caressed her from the top of her head to the tips of her freshly pedicured toes. He smiled proudly and nodded his approval. The warm glow of being totally and unconditionally loved rushed through Joanna. Grant didn’t care what she wore. All he cared about was that they were together.

Tyler led her to the arch and handed her to Grant. “I know I didn’t say nothing when we ’hearsed but I need to say something now. You better be good to my Auntie Jo or you’ll have me to deal with.”

Joanna flinched at the quiet tittering that rippled through the crowd. Tyler meant every word he’d said and she wouldn’t have his feelings hurt for anything in the world.

Grant stepped forward and went down on one knee in front of the child. He removed his dagger from its sheath and held it up in the old way that Scots pledged their fealty to their chieftain. “I swear to treat yer Auntie Jo with love and respect in this life and the next. She is my heart and soul. I’ll protect her ’til I draw m’last breath.” Then he kissed the haft of the dagger and bowed his head.

“You’re a good man, Uncle Grant. You have my blessing.” Tyler patted the top of Grant’s bowed head, then turned and marched to his seat in the front row between his mother and Taggart MacClendon.

Joanna turned and smiled at Lucia, who was beaming with pride.

“Let us begin,” Dwyn announced in a strong, deep voice that in no way sounded as though it could’ve come from his short, slight body. “Your hands, please.”

Both Joanna and Grant held out their right hands, palms up. Joanna pulled in a deep breath, praying she wouldn’t pass out during the next part.

Dwyn held the dagger up to the sky, closed his eyes, and mouthed a silent prayer. Then he steadied both their hands as he made a quick cut in each of their palms.

“Well done, lass,” Grant whispered as they clasped their hands together.

Joanna drew in a shaking breath and wet her lips. That wasn’t so bad.

Dwyn wrapped the plaid cloth around their hands and pressed the blade of the dagger atop it. He nodded first at Grant, then Joanna. “I bind thee upon this day, but know this—the connection will nay be complete until ye’ve said yer vows to one another, aye?”