Seducing a Scottish Bride by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

—”
    “Whoever the woman is, she should ne’er have given you such a thing.” He looked at her, careful to keep his gaze above her
     neck. “ ’Tis a siren’s toy.”
    “I know.” Gelis laughed.
    Ronan frowned. “Do you see the man in the shadows behind the high table? The gaunt one with flowing white hair and a raven
     painted on his robe?” He indicated the ancient, not surprised to find his stare on them. “That man is Torcaill, and he’s here
     to bless our union. I do not care to keep him waiting.”
    “Neither do I,” she quipped, her dimple flashing. “I am pleased to see you so eager!”
    Ronan made a noncommittal humph and offered her his arm. It was the best he could do without telling her that what he was,
     was eager to be gone from her. A fool could see she’d take great glee in unraveling his plan.
    Proving it, she refused his arm and set her hands on her hips. “Your friend Torcaill is holding a binding cord.” She turned
     to watch the ancient approach the high table, the long golden cord dangling from his hands. “Why does he need the like?”
    “Because he will use it to bind our hands when he —”
    “You wish him to handfast us?” She stared at him, eyes wide. “I thought —”
    “We never spoke of a handfasting!” Valdar slammed down his wine cup. “ ’Tis a true betrothal ceremony we need.” He leaped
     to his feet, his eyes blazing like a Norse thunder god. “A betrothal this e’en, with a wedding soon to follow.”
    “We ne’er spoke of aught.” Ronan met his glare, for once allowing his greater size and strength to work to his advantage.
     “Torcaill will perform a handfasting, as I summoned him to do.” He turned to the Black Stag, his voice firm. “A handfasting
     is as binding as a betrothal or wedding. As honorable. I chose it because of the circumstances at Dare. If, after a year and
     a day —”
    “Pah!” Gelis waved a dismissive hand. “I will not feel any different months from now than I do this day. We do not need a
     trial marriage.”
    “I deem it sensible.” Her father leaned forward, entirely agreeable. “I will leave here with a lighter heart, knowing this
     day’s deed can be so easily undone.”
    “Not so!” Gelis lifted her chin. “A handfasted couple is as married as any other once certain intimacies are accomplished.”
     She smiled again. “After that, no one can unsay the pact.”
    Her father’s expression darkened.
    A bit farther down the high table, her scar-faced uncle took a slow sip of wine. “That being so, you have no cause to reject
     such a ceremony.”
    “Then so be it.” She gave a light shrug, her gaze on the druid’s golden cord. “I am not worried.”
    Ronan braced himself, his own worries multiplying with Torcaill’s swishy-robed preparations. “Aye, so it shall be done,” he
     agreed.
    Already the ancient stood before them, his gnarled fingers wrapping the silken cord around their joined hands, his incantations
     binding them with words even more constricting than his sacred golden rope.
    Drawing a tight breath, Ronan glanced at the raftered ceiling, wishing the graybeard had words that would make the rest unfold
     with equal ease.
    Unfortunately, something told him there wasn’t enough druidic magic in the world to help him.
    He was wholly on his own.
    Left to his own devices to convince Gelis MacKenzie she wanted nothing to do with him.

Chapter Four

    F or you, my lady. Sugared almonds.” A pink-cheeked boy with bright red hair placed the sweets on the high table, carefully
     setting them next to the trencher Gelis shared with the Raven. “My lord thought you might like them.”
    “I am fond of sweets.” Gelis reached for one, her words causing the boy’s flush to deepen. “Thank you.”
    Beside her, Ronan stiffened. “Sugared almonds are Cook’s favored fare, offered to all Dare’s guests.”
    “Say you?” She had her doubts about that, but flashed her best smile all the same.
    Seeming