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"Stay with me," Marcas said again, "and I'll spend every day proving ye chose well."

Neilina had meant to say the words as they were written. Instead, she heard herself say, "I chose ye the day ye lowered yer sword."

"I take ye, Marcas MacKinnon, as my husband, and I'll nae be possessed by any man living, ye included. But I'll be yers. I'll be yers as long as I'm breathing, because I want tae be. Because I decided."

The silence stretched.

Then Marcas laughed again and cupped her face in both his scarred hands and kissed her, there on the steps, before the priest had said a word about it.

The courtyard erupted.

"Ye're supposed tae wait," she managed, against his mouth.

"I've waited long enough."

"The priest⁠—"

"Will survive." He kissed her again, deeper. "Mo chridhe. Ye said ye were mine."

"I said I'd be yers. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

"Ye'll have tae spend the rest o' yer life finding out."

"Gladly," he said, and from somewhere behind them a hundred voices cheered.

Return to Marcas and Neilina two years later, where their happily ever after is filled with love, laughter, and a little Highland mischief… until a beautiful surprise promises to make their family even bigger.