When a Scot Ties the Knot by Tessa Dare

struggling to focus. “Who’s this lass?”
    Maddie offered her hand. “I’m Madeline.”
    â€œThis is your sweetheart?” Grant asked Logan. “The one what sent all the letters?”
    Logan nodded. “I’m marrying her. Right now, as a matter of fact.”
    â€œAre ye?” The man stared at her for a moment, and then a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. Grinning, he dug his elbow into Logan’s side. “You lucky bastard.”
    In that moment, Maddie knew one thing.
    Private Malcolm Allan Grant was her new favorite person.
    He’d made her feel pretty on her wedding day. So long as she lived, she would never forget it.
    â€œSay, can we go to Ross-­shire soon, Captain?” Grant asked. “I’m keen to see my nan and the wee ones.”
    â€œTomorrow,” Logan said. “We’ll go tomorrow.”
    â€œThat will be fine.”
    That settled, Logan steered her to the center of the room. “We’d better get on with it.”
    â€œWho’s going to officiate?”
    â€œMunro will do the honors, but we dinna need anyone to officiate. There aren’t any rings to bless. We’ll keep this traditional, like the Highland ways of old. ’Twill be a simple handfasting.”
    â€œA handfasting? I thought those only last for a year and a day.”
    â€œIn novels, perhaps. But the kirk put a stop to temporary unions some centuries ago. That doesna stop brides and grooms from exchanging vows in the old way. We clasp hands, like so.” He took her by the wrist, gripping her right forearm with his right hand. “Now take hold of me.”
    She did as he asked, curling her fingers around his forearm as best she could.
    â€œAnd the other,” he prompted.
    He claimed her left wrist in the same manner, and she held onto his. Their linked hands now formed a cross between them. It looked something like a cat’s cradle or a children’s game.
    Logan nodded at Munro.
    The man stepped forward and wound a length of plaid around their linked wrists, tying them together. Maddie watched, transfixed, as the strip of fabric wound over her wrist and under his, lashing them together.
    Her heart began to beat faster. Her breathing, too. Her brain began to feel as light and misty as a cloud.
    He must have been able to tell. His grip tightened on her wrist.
    â€œCan we not do this in private?” she whispered.
    â€œThere must be witnesses, lass.”
    â€œYes, but this many? It’s only that . . .”
    She couldn’t finish her plea. The numbness had closed in on her, just as it always did. The cold found her, no matter how well she hid. And the ice encased her from toes to tongue, forbidding her to speak or move. Her pulse beat dully in her ears and time’s progress slowed to a glacial creep.
    â€œLook at me,” he commanded.
    When she did, she found him staring down at her. His eyes were intent, captivating.
    â€œDinna worry about the others. It’s only me and you now.”
    His low words of assurance did something strange to her. Something she would have thought impossible. They heated her blood from the inside out and made her forget everyone else in the room. He’d erected a shield against that beam of attention.
    It truly was just the two of them now.
    Suddenly, the rain, the dark, the candles, the primal symbolism of being tied to another human being . . . It all seemed magical. And more romantic than she could bear.
    She was visited by the strange, unshakeable sensation that this was everything she’d dreamed of since she was sixteen years old.
    Don’t, she pleaded with herself. Don’t imagine this to be more than it is. That’s how all your trouble starts.
    â€œNow ye repeat the words as I say them,” Logan said.
    He murmured something in Gaelic, and she repeated the words aloud as best she could.
    â€œGood,” he praised.
    Again, she warmed inside.