“Are you ready?”

Heather nearly glowed with excitement as she finished arranging the short train of Ysmaine’s deep blue silk gown.

“I believe so.” She looked down at herself. The small bouquet of white flowers shook slightly in her hand, but that shaking was the result of excitement. She had never felt so happy.

Tucked into the bouquet was a small piece of woven cloth which she would present to Quinn as a symbol of the home she would make for him and their family. Sarah had already tucked sixpence into her leather shoes for good luck.

Niall beamed with pride. “I could not be prouder of ye if ye were my own daughter,” he vowed. “I know your dear mother and father would be proud of ye today.”

“I am just so happy to have you here,” she beamed in return, tears threatening to flow. She had fought them all day, each moment more tender and meaningful than the last. When Sarah had washed her feet, when Heather, Dalla, and Alis had helped her dress and arrange her hair into a heavy twist on the back of her head. When Margery and her sister, Beatrice, had presented her with her bouquet, complete with Quinn’s wedding band tied to it with a piece of velvet ribbon.

All the while, the women had shared tales of marriage. It had been a lovely day, full of laughter and jibing among all of them. Beatrice was expecting her first child with her husband Broc, and she was having a much easier time of it than her sister. Margery had spent the entirety of her time in bed, very ill.

“It was worth it,” she smiled, her firstborn son crawling around and getting into everything as bairns were so apt to do.

“Your time will come, too,” Alis had assured her. “And you will find how wonderful it is.”

“I hope for many children,” she’d confessed. “I grew up alone and would not have that for my child.”

All of them waited at the church, in the village beyond the manor house. Only Heather and Sarah had remained with her at the house, both of them carrying bouquets which resembled her own, prepared to serve as her attendants during the march to the church.

The two of them set out at a stately pace, ahead of Ysmaine and Niall.

Niall took her arm, and they began their march. Ysmaine was sure to start with her right foot, as to begin with her left would mean bad luck.

The bells rang in the church, the sound echoing through the air as she and Niall marched on to where Quinn and the guests waited outside the doors of the church. She could see the gathering of friends, family, and villagers, and her heart took off at a rapid pace when she realized her intended waited in the midst of them.

Her Quinn.

They would be husband and wife in short order.

“Ye make a lovely bride,” Niall assured her, patting her trembling hand. “Quinn is a lucky lad. I’m only sorry the two of ye will not settle down in your family home.”

“I am glad you purchased the land,” she murmured. “I would rather it go to you than to anyone.”

“I suppose I shall leave it to Hilda when the time comes,” he chuckled. “As it ought to be.”

Yes. That would make everything perfect.

She saw the smiling faces of so many she had already come to care deeply for. Rodric and Caitlin, who had recently celebrated the birth of their daughter. Brice and Alana. Fergus, Brice’s brother, and Rodric’s brother, Padraig. They had stayed beneath the Duncan roof for nearly a fortnight, catching up and sharing stories with the Duncans late into the night.

Most important of all, at least as far as Quinn was concerned, was the presence of Lennox and his family. It would take time for Lennox to regain his full strength and health after so many months spent in prison, but after a week he already looked worlds better than he had upon his release.

Lennox exchanged a warm smile with her as she passed, the bond between them already firm.

Heather and Sarah stepped aside once they reached the foot of the stairs leading to the church doors, revealing Quinn and the priest who waited for her at the top.

When their eyes met, the love she saw there was almost too much for her heart to bear. She thought it might burst from her, so strong was this certainty that she touched a hand to her chest, as though making certain things were as they ought to be.

Her fingers brushed against the string of pearls Quinn had gifted her for their wedding. “Not the same as having your mother’s pearls,” he had explained upon presenting them to her the night before, “but my small attempt at making things right. Perhaps you shall give them to our daughter on her wedding day.”

Would that the entire world knew that such joy was possible.

She stood to Quinn’s left, before the priest, who handed them both a small piece of charcoal which they used to draw a circle around them. As they drew, they recited the caim.

Quinn met her smile with his own, taking her hand according to the old priest’s instruction. They recited the vows as per the priest’s command, exchanging gold bands to symbolize their union.

With the vows finished, the priest bade them enter the church for communion and the blessing of the food for the feast. Once the ceremony had commenced, the guests and villagers would carry the food up to the house before celebrating.

After that? Neither of them was entirely certain.

They might stay beneath the Duncan roof, or they might live among the Andersons. They might strike off on their own.

It mattered little as Ysmaine took the arm of her husband, the two of them walking side by side into the church.

No matter what they decided, they would be together.

Which was as good a place to start as Ysmaine could imagine.