Jack tried to shake away his feelings of unworthiness, but they lingered, long enough to make him doubt himself and what he was doing. Until he remembered what Adaira had spoken to him nights ago, on her knees.
None of them are the one that I want.
She would never know what those words had done to him.
His eyes searched the hills. The land rolled like a song, dappled with purple heather and gorse. The light was beginning to cool with dusk, and Adaira had yet to appear.
He should have insisted they marry in the hall. A safe, predictable place where the spirits couldn’t trick them. He envisioned the bracken, the rocks, and the grass manifested in physical forms, coming between her and him. What if they led Adaira astray and Jack was left here, standing in a thistle patch until midnight?
“Take a breath, Jack,” Torin said. “She’ll be along.”
Jack swallowed a retort. He turned his face into the wind and closed his eyes, the air sweet with the fragrance of rain. A gust blew over him, lifting the hair from his brow as if fingers had brushed it away.
Faintly, he heard Frae calling his name.
Jack opened his eyes.
He saw Adaira walking through the grass to meet him, Sidra and Frae on either side, holding her hands. He watched her approach in a red dress, her hair loose and crowned with flowers, and he was struck almost senseless by the sight of her. Jack couldn’t breathe, nor could he fathom the truth that she was coming to him. Or perhaps he could. Because the truth was … she wasn’t looking at him.
Her eyes were cast down to the heather as she ascended the hill, stoic as if she were walking to her death.
Jack didn’t take his eyes from her, waiting. Look at me, Adaira.
She was five steps away, her face pale until their gazes locked. Gradually, the color returned to her cheeks, like roses blooming in starlight. She stood, beautiful and proud in the gray-washed light; she seemed not of this earth, and Jack was like a shadow next to her. Serenity spread through him the longer he regarded her. Peace, like a gentle poison, quelled the anxious blood within him. He extended his hand to her, a quiet offering. He didn’t quite believe this was happening, not until Sidra and Frae relinquished her, and Adaira claimed his waiting hand with her own.
Her fingers were shockingly cold. A brush of winter, defying the sultry air and the heat of his skin.
She glanced up at the churning clouds above them, and Jack felt how she trembled. It eased his own shaking, and he tightened his hold on her, hoping it would steady them both. If we must drown, let us do so entwined.
Adaira’s gaze returned to him, as if she had heard his musings, and there her eyes remained, for she saw him at last. Her old menace. A slender smile danced on her lips, and he was relieved, recognizing that mirth within her. Despite the weight of the past few days, he could still coax it from her without a single word.
He acknowledged it then. She had just accomplished the sweetest revenge. Here he was, about to bind himself to her. To give his vow with a willing heart. And he marveled at her.
Torin was saying something. Jack didn’t hear a word as Adaira brushed her thumb over his knuckles.
“Shall I go first?” she whispered, and Jack nodded, doubting his voice.
Mirin brought forward a long strip of plaid, surrendering it to Torin. Jack felt his and Adaira’s family gather close around them in a loose circle as if they were embracing the two of them.
Torin began to wrap their hands with the strip of plaid, knotting it once as Adaira spoke her vow.
“I, Adaira Tamerlaine, hereby take you, Jack, to be my husband. I will comfort you in sadness; I will lift your head and be your strength when you are weak. I will sing with you when you are joyful. I will abide beside you and honor you for a year and a day, and thereafter should the spirits bless us.”
Jack’s thoughts whirled. Mirin had helped him memorize these vows last night, and yet his mind went utterly blank. Adaira’s grip on him eased as the silence rang. The mere envisioning of her walking away broke the dam that had welled within him. The words rushed forward like a song he had learned, long ago.
“I, Jack Tamerlaine, hereby take you, Adaira, to be my wife. I will comfort you in sadness; I will lift your head and be your strength when you are weak. I will sing with you when you are joyful. I will abide beside you and honor you for a year and a day, and thereafter should the spirits bless us.”
Torin made another knot around their hands, this time to represent Jack’s vow. After that, Alastair provided a golden coin. It had been broken in half, and each piece strung onto a chain. The laird bestowed one half of the coin on Adaira; the gold flickered as the chain settled against her collarbones. He next draped the other chain over Jack’s head.
Adaira hadn’t wanted rings to symbolize their vows. Perhaps because she knew Jack was particular about his hands. But the truth was that Jack hadn’t cared for either one—ring or half coin—until he listened to the chain settle and felt his piece of the coin rest close to his heart. He was glad to have something tangible to portray his promise to her.
“I hereby pronounce you bound as one,” Torin declared, and a cheer rose from Frae. “Would you like to seal your vows with a kiss?”
Jack felt Adaira’s hand stiffen in his. He watched her eyes narrow as she slightly angled back, a graceful warning. They hadn’t discussed this, but it was evident that it was the last thing she wanted.
Jack hesitated only a moment before he lifted their bound hands and kissed Adaira’s knuckles through the plaid.
It was over and done with. It had scarcely taken five minutes, and Jack felt weak in the knees when he thought about how much his life had just changed.
His mother was kissing Adaira’s cheeks, and Sidra was squeezing his arm, and he didn’t know what came next. They weren’t sharing a bed; they weren’t partaking in a wedding feast. I don’t want a celebration, Adaira had said to him the day before. The days are too heavy, too somber for such things.
“Shall we return to the hall?” Alastair asked, rising from his chair with Torin’s assistance.
“I …” Adaira began, but then frowned. “Da, I said I didn’t want a feast.”
“Adaira,” the laird said, his voice a gentle rasp. “You are my only daughter and the heiress. Did you think you could escape a handfasting without a little celebration?”
Adaira glanced at Sidra and Torin. “The days are too dark for such things.”
“The days may be dark,” Sidra said. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t feel joy. We want to celebrate with you.”
“And perhaps your bard will play a song for us, Adi?” Torin added, brow arched as he met Jack’s gaze.
Jack wasn’t prepared to play for the clan. But everyone was suddenly looking at him, and he realized that he had secretly been waiting for such a moment.
“Yes, of course,” he said, anxiously touching his plaid.
“Then let us go, before the rain comes,” Torin said.
Their small party began the walk back to the castle.
Jack was surprised by the congregation that had gathered in the courtyard. At the sight of his hand bound to Adaira’s, cheers rose.
He didn’t stop; he led Adaira to the hall, forging a path in the crowd. He was only aware of her—how cold her hand was in his. How close she walked at his side, her crimson dress fluttering with each step. The sigh that escaped her.