Chapter 14

14

S aoirse leaned forward with a smile, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “So, ye have nae heard of handfastin’ then, Miss?”

Thalia shook her head. “No, I haven’t. What is it?”

“It’s one of our oldest wedding traditions,” Saoirse explained. “It’s when the couple’s hands are tied together with a cord or ribbon during the ceremony. It symbolizes their bond, ye ken?”

Rowan chimed in, her voice warm and inviting. “Aye, it’s a beautiful custom. Some couples even use their family tartan for the ribbon, makin’ it all the more special.”

Thalia nodded, imagining how meaningful such a gesture could be. “That sounds lovely.”

“Aye, it is,” Saoirse agreed. “And speaking of tartans, after the ceremony, there’s the sashing of the bride. The groom’s family tartan is draped over the bride’s shoulders, showin’ she’s now part of his clan.”

“Does the Laird have family to do that, or who drapes it?

Rowan chuckled, a twinkle in her eye. “Don’t ye worry about that, lass. It’s nothing too grand. Just a wee way to say ye are one of us now. The Laird will place it, and no doubt that Cillian will be gifting it.”

“Cillian?”

“Aye, he’s as much the Laird’s brother and kin as anyone else.”

“Does the Laird not have siblings?” Thalia asked, finally getting an answer to her questions.

“Nay, it is only himself.”

Thalia smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. “I suppose it’s nice to be welcomed in such a way.”

Saoirse’s grin widened. “Ye’ll see plenty more too. Like the Quaich. The bride and groom take their first drink together from it, a sign of trust and unity.”

“Aye,” Rowan added, “It’s often filled with whisky or wine and passed around to the guests after the couple drinks. It’s a way to share the celebration with everyone.”

Thalia’s brow furrowed slightly as she tried to keep up with the influx of new customs. “It’s all so different from England.”

Rowan gave a knowing nod. “That it is, lass. But it’s full of meaning.”

Saoirse leaned back, her expression softening. “There’s also the Luckenbooth brooch — it’s a symbol of love and loyalty. The groom gifts it to his bride, and it’s often pinned to her gown. It’s a way to show she’s cherished and protected.”

Thalia touched the neckline of her dress, as if imagining such a brooch there. “That’s… beautiful.”

“Aye,” Rowan said with a nod. “And if ye want a bit of extra luck, I will add a sprig of white heather to your bouquet. It’s said to bring good fortune.”

Thalia couldn’t help but smile. “Oh certainly, yes!” Her brow then furrowed playfully. “I suppose it wouldn’t be a Scottish wedding without bagpipes.”

“Exactly,” Rowan agreed, and Saoirse laughed heartily.

“There’s the ceilidh, too — a dance where everyone joins in, no matter if they ken the steps or no’. It’s all about having fun together.”

Saoirse nodded enthusiastically. “It’s lively, and ye will be on your feet all night.”

Thalia laughed softly. “It sounds like quite the celebration.”

Rowan laughed before replying, “Sure, plus the Laird has sent out letters to all of his comrades. So, I expect several hundred to show, especially if the clan chiefs are gathering. They’ll bring some of their men with them as well. These unions are never small affairs.”

“I see…” Thalia said, setting her tea down.

Saoirse nodded, her expression softening. “And we’ll be here to help ye every step of the way, Thalia. Ye are one of us now.”

Thalia felt a warmth spread through her chest, a sense of belonging she hadn’t expected to feel so soon. “Thank you, both of you. This all means a lot to me.”

As if reading her mind, Saoirse mused, “Was there anything else ye needed?” She finished the tea in her cup and set it down on the table between them expectantly. Her eyes met Rowan’s, as if they were both on the same page.

“I… I can’t figure out how to handle my sisters…” she said tentatively.

Saoirse nodded her head thoughtfully. “Oh, aye, kin...”

Rowan smiled and patted Thalia’s hand. She knew at once that this was an issue that she was not going to get help on.

The tension between Finn and Thalia all came to a head as she walked back to her rooms to get ready for dinner that evening. Just as she took to the stairs, an imposing figure stepped into the stairway. It was Finn, of course, his expression hard.

“Thalia,” he said, his voice tense, “I need to speak with ye.”

Thalia’s heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes, but she forced herself to remain calm. “Of course. What is it?”

“Not here,” Finn said, his tone brooking no argument. “Come with me.”

Thalia hesitated, glancing back at her sisters. “I need to finish getting ready for din?—”

“It will wait,” Finn interrupted, his voice leaving no room for discussion. “This is important.”

Thalia swallowed hard and nodded silently before following Finn down the corridor. He didn’t say anything as they walked, his steps were quick and determined. Thalia could feel the tension radiating off him, and it only served to heighten her own anxiety.

What could this possibly be about?