When Fate and Whimsy Combine…

S amhain was the day when the veil between the living and the dead was at its thinnest.

Such was a pagan belief and Father Issac would disapprove for certain. Well, he already found little about her to praise.

Rhona awoke in the middle of the night. It was a sudden ending of her slumber, like an interruption. She blinked, trying to decide if she'd heard something, or if it was just her longing for company.

Whatever the cause, she was wide awake. So much so, that she felt like something was waiting for her outside the little shed. Wishful thinking or not, Rhona crawled out from beneath the bed she'd made of her surcoat. She listened for a moment but couldn't detect any sound of rain. So she opened the door, just a tiny amount.

She gasped at the sight in front of her. The sky, which had been covered in dark clouds, was suddenly free of them. It was nearly magical, for the stars were bright and the crescent moon looked like a smile waiting to greet anyone willing to venture out into the night.

And there in the middle of the meadow, was the well.

Its smooth stone exterior stood there where it had not been the last time Rhona looked out of the door. A thick branch had grown over it with a rope was wound onto it.

And there were candles. At least a dozen of them were set around the new well. Their wicks were lit, and the yellow flames danced in the night breeze.

Peadair was there too.

He stood tall and perfect, just the way she remembered him. Tonight, the candles illuminated his face, showing her that he was looking at her.

The wind blew from behind her like it was urging her up the hill to where the well was and where Peadair stood.

Rhona didn't intend to argue. She'd never felt so confident, never wanted to walk somewhere more in her life. Never really understood the word destiny until that very moment for she felt as though things beyond the mortal world were urging her along.

She didn't know what awaited her, but she knew it was the only path to walk. By the time she made it to him, she was breathless, but she knew it wasn't the walk that had taxed her. Her heart was hammering because somehow, Peadair was her future.

"We have finished the well, lass," he muttered when she'd reached him. "It is time for us to go home."

Her breath caught. The idea of him leaving made it feel like her heart was being torn in half.

He lifted his hand, offering it palm up. "Will ye wed me, lass? Come away with me with no more than my promise that ye shall have a good life."

Rhona was already placing her hand into his before he finished asking. She blinked in surprise when she heard him, though. "Wed?"

Peadair tilted his head to one side. "Aye. I would not care to curse this well by behaving dishonorably and stealing ye away without marrying."

"You have stolen my heart," Rhona declared.

There was a chuckle from behind Peadair.

Or maybe it was Peadair who rumbled with amusement. From the darkness beyond the circle of light the lanterns cast, men moved forward. They made a half circle behind Peadair.

"Do ye mind, lass?" Peadair asked. "Will it bother ye that ye will not respect yer father's wishes for ye to take the veil?"

Rhona shook her head. "My mother promised me that someday I would fall in love. My father gave us this house to live in, happily. It was his widow who decreed I should take the veil, and later my half-brother out of spite and greed."

Rhona discovered she was holding her breath by the time she finished. There was a tension in the air, even if she didn't quite know the cause of it. Peadair smiled at her before he turned his head to look across the new well at something still concealed within the darkness.

A shadow shifted and formed into a man. He moved forward, his hands tucked into the wide sleeves of his religious robe. He looked for a long time at Rhona. She stared straight back, for she'd spoken truthfully.

"I will wed you," the priest stated firmly.

The men behind Peadair nodded and made sounds of approval.

But Rhona made a small sound of protest. Peadair's grip tightened around her fingers. As long as she lived, she knew she would recall that little squeeze, for it was an impulse and something that couldn't be faked.

He longed for her, just as much as she wanted their union.

Like they were two parts of a whole.

"Speak, Child," the priest urged. "Is there guilt stirring inside of you? If so, you cannot take a holy sacrament."

"I do not have a dowry," Rhona muttered, fighting back the urge to cry. "My house has been given to the Church. Even this clothing I wear has been given to them."

"If the dowry has been given, you should take the veil," Father Isaac declared.

The pain Rhona had felt before was nothing compared to the agony that stabbed through her at that moment. She clasped Peadair's hand tightly, earning a reassuring squeeze in return.

"As to that, Father, what has value to me is this well," Peadair said. "If we can keep the English away from it, that is dowry enough. I have the blessing from me Chief."

"You do?" Rhona asked.

Peadair returned his gaze to hers. "Aye, lass. I would not dishonor ye with anything less. I half-feared ye'd not be waiting for me, but I needed to return home to speak directly to me Chief before returning with a bride."

Rhona felt her cheeks warming. Even in the dim light, Peadair's gaze shifted to her face, making it clear that he saw the blush.

"Is there a witness to this agreement?" the priest asked.

Hamish cleared his throat. "Aye."

The priest nodded. He turned back to Rhona and Peadair and lifted his hands out from beneath his chasuble to begin the ceremony.

The wind blew around them, teasing her ankles while the priest intoned the words that would bind them together. The concept of unity suddenly blossomed into something altogether more encompassing than Rhona had ever understood before. It was beyond her imagination, and she happily gave herself completely to it.

Now and forever.