The Ghost by Greyson, Maeve (best motivational books to read .txt) 📕

“Do ye, Magnus Jedidiah de Gray, take this woman as yer honored wife and helpmate? Swear to always provide and protect her? Keep her at yer side, whether ye be rich as a king or poor as a pauper, ill as a bloated beast or fit as a fine Highland day, until death so parts ye?”

“Yer book uses those words?”

“Never ye mind. Just answer the question.” The priest drew himself up, looking as though he was about to rain down hellfire and damnation. “I shall have ye know I’ve married a good many souls in my day.” His eyes narrowed at the witnesses trying not to laugh out loud. “My words stuck well enough, I reckon.” With an imperious jerk of his head, his voice grew louder. “Count their bairns and their years together, aye? Now, do ye take this woman or not?”

“I most certainly do.” Magnus pressed a kiss to Brenna’s hand. “For all time.”

Father William swatted at their hands with his Bible. “No more kisses ’til I say.” He shifted his attention to Brenna, and his stern gruffness disappeared. “And now, my child, do ye bind yerself to this man? Hardheaded, infuriating soul that he is? Vow to stay at his side through prosperity or suffering? Cherish him all yer days ’til death shall part ye?”

“I do.” She blessed Magnus with a loving smile. “Forever and a day.”

The priest snapped his book shut and tucked it into the crook of one arm. He resettled his stance with a pleased bounce. “Verra good, then. In the eyes of the church and the record books of Scotland, I now proclaim ye man and wife. Let no man tear asunder what God Almighty hath joined.” He pointed at Alexander. “And all God’s people said?”

“Amen!” Alexander bellowed, and the others echoed the same loud and clear.

Father William graced Magnus with a perfunctory nod. “And now ye may kiss her proper.”

With the greatest of care not to crush her wee bundle of heather and ivy, Magnus cradled her face between his hands and eased forward to seal their vows. His heart stuttered when she brushed away his touch and turned aside.

“Catriona?” She held out the flowers.

With happy tears and a big smile, Catriona hurried to take them, then returned to her place beside Alexander.

“I shall let nothing come between us.” Brenna slid her arms around his neck. “Not even flowers.”

“I dinna believe I couldha married a wiser woman,” he observed, then shared a kiss that forged their union with the heat of a smithy’s forge.

“Well done!” Alexander cheered.

Graham and Ian roared Clan MacCoinnich’s battle cry, nearly shaking the rafters with their chanting of je ressuscite!

“To the hall!” Alexander waved Magnus and Brenna forward. “The couple shall lead us to their banquet.”

Magnus noticed Brenna’s hesitation and how her hold tightened on his arm. He leaned in close as though kissing her cheek but whispered, “It will be all right, m’love. Show them yer courage. How ye fear nothing—most especially how ye dinna give a damn about any judgments they have no right to make.”

With a loving touch to his cheek, she smiled. “How can ye read me so well?”

“Because we two are a proper match.”

“All are waiting,” Catriona gently called out from behind them.

After leaning up for a quick kiss, Brenna pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. “I am ready.”

She lied, but Magnus admired her for the effort. He held tight to her hand, walking proudly beside her. They made their way to the main hall that had already filled with people. Word of their private ceremony and the celebration feast had spread like fire touched to dry tinder. Folks continued to mill into the room in a seemingly endless line of arrival.

Two long rows of tables, running parallel down the center of the massive room, had several seated. Benches along the walls and beneath the gallery were almost full as well. Servants bustled among the guests, ensuring everyone’s tankards didn’t run dry. Food wouldn’t be offered to those at the tables and benches until the chief and his guests at the head table had been served.

Torches and candelabras burned brightly, even though the sun still hovered above the horizon. Its brilliant beams poured in through the windows lining the upper gallery. A trickle of sweat started between Magnus’s shoulder blades, trickled down his spine, and pooled in the crack of his arse. Even with no fire in the hearths, the room had warmed with the heat of the late August day, and so many assembled.

He fought the urge to keep walking once they reached the head table. It would be easy enough, just power through the archway and escape up the stairs to their chambers. Nay. He daren’t do such. Brenna might think him ashamed of her. Instead, he helped her maneuver the abundant yardage of her gown so she might sit. He took his place beside her after scooting her close enough to reach the table.

“Thank ye.” Brenna drew a lacy cloth from between the cleft of her breasts and daubed it against the back of her neck, then her throat. “’Tis verra warm in here,” she said, shielding her words behind the kerchief. “How could so many arrive this quickly? The hall was almost empty when I passed through.”

“Food, drink, and gossip are impossible for most to resist. Especially this time of year. The days are long, and the weather fair enough to make a walk from the village and even farther just a wee stretch of the legs.” Magnus motioned for a servant to fill her glass. “At least the chief’s candles are already lit. Pray they burn quickly. Alexander promised one round only.”

“Chief’s candles?” She looked at him as though he had gone addled with the heat.

After plucking a juicy slice of pear from the platter of fruits and cheeses, Magnus pointed it at the candelabra burning on their end of the table. “Those are the chief’s candles. When they burn out, everyone knows the gathering