A good long while took far less time than either of them had anticipated.

On the eve of Christmas Tide, just a few short months after that fateful night, Albert MacAulay married Laurin of Clan MacAdams.

Just as his father and brothers had given the MacAulay broach to their brides, Albert gave his to Laurin. Before they were to go to the kirk, he went to her room to give her his gift.

When he stepped into her room and caught sight of her, with her gold hair falling in soft curls down her back, his head spun. He paid no attention to what she wore, only those long, soft curls and dried flowers sprinkled through them. Her face, so bonny and bright, her smile… he drank it all in. “Ye take me breath away, lass,” he told her.

She smiled up at him. “Ye be verra braw yerself this day.”

“I have somethin’ to give to ye,” he said. “’Tis a MacAulay tradition.”

Her excitement increased a thousandfold when she realized what he spoke of. The brooch. Even though she already knew about the tradition, having learned of it from Josephine and Kathryn, she remained quiet. ’Twas his story to tell, his tradition to keep.

“It be a brooch that each MacAulay lad receives when he turns six and ten. I want ye to have it, to wear this day,” he told her as he pulled the bundle of fine linen from his sporran and carefully unwrapped it.

Made of pewter, in the center of the brooch were two hands, one decidedly masculine, the other feminine. The masculine hand held the feminine hand in his palm. In the center of her palm was a tiny ruby. To one side, the circle had been engraved to look like stars twinkling near a crescent moon. On the other, were the words aeterna devotione. Eternal devotion.

Just like Joie’s and Kathryn’s, she thought as her heart skipped several beats.

“’Tis beautiful!” she exclaimed. “I shall treasure it always.”

“I have something else to give ye,” he said. From his belt, he pulled another linen-wrapped bundle and placed it in her palm.

Carefully, he pulled back the corners of the linen. Inside was a sgian dubh. The handle was made of wood and carved into it were the same two hands, twinkling star and crescent moon. Under that, the same inscription, aeterna devotione, along with each of their names.

With eyes brimming with tears, she looked up at him in disbelief.

“I never want ye to ever again feel as though ye can no’ defend yerself. I never want ye unarmed. Though I do no’ plan on ever leavin’ yer side, there could be a time when I must.”

“Thank ye, Albert,” she said before wrapping her arms around him.

He patted her back, grateful and blissfully happy.

They embraced for a long while before she stepped away. Carefully, she set the items on her table before lifting a bundle of her own. “It be no’ nearly as nice as what ye’ve given me,” she said as she handed it to him. “But ken it be from me heart.”

Quirking a curious brow, he carefully untied the string and pulled the linen away. Inside was a piece of blue silk. Lifting it, it unfolded into a square, no more than eight inches by eight. Upon closer inspection, he could see all the fine embroidery. Tiny flowers and vines had been stitched around the border. In the center, stitched in dark blue were the words, Ubicumque cor meum cecum; Wherever ye go, my heart will be with ye.

“’Tis beautiful,” he said. “Almost as beautiful as the lass who made it.” He kissed her tenderly, wishing for all the world he could let loose the passion bottled up inside him for these many months.

“Yer certain ye want to spend the rest of yer life with me?” she asked him. She pulled in her bottom lip and looked hopeful, yet uncertain.

’Twas the same question she’d been asking for weeks. “Aye lass, I have never been more certain of anythin’ in me life.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Are ye certain ye want to marry me? I be told I can be a wee hard headed at times.”

Laurin smiled brightly. “That be true,” she said. “But I think I can live with that.”

He kissed her once again before quitting the room. Josephine, Irline and a dozen other women raced into the room and shut the door behind him.

“Did he give ye the brooch?” Irline and Josephine asked in unison.

“Aye, he did. And me own sgian dub as well!”

’Twas said by many that they’d never seen a man happier or more proud than Albert MacAulay. ’Twas also said that never a prettier bride had ever stood at the MacAulay alter, save for Josephine and Kathryn.

The following spring, Josephine and Graeme welcomed their first child into the world. A healthy baby girl they named Marielle after Josephine’s mother. That fall, Laurin and Albert welcomed their first baby, a wee babe with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. They named her Kathryn.

Over the next few years, Marielle and Kathryn were blessed with four brothers each. Brothers they doted on and loved fiercely.

Marielle and Kathryn MacAulay would grow to be the best of friends, closer than cousins. They would be sisters of the heart.

And on her twelfth birthday, when Josephine and Graeme presented her with the Gladius and journal, Kathryn made her a promise. “I shall help ye protect the Gladius and yer heart. I’ll no’ let ye marry a man ye can no’ trust above all else. I’ll make certain ye marry a man worthy of both yer heart and the sword.”