His Mate, His Enemy novel · Chapter 24 of 24

Chapter 24: By Choice

We were married in May, on the rebuilt ferry dock, with the lake behind us.

Nobody brought a rite book.

Molly checked twice.

She stood at the foot of the dock in her green cardigan with Wyatt on her hip.

She patted the pockets of everyone who walked by.

"No cards," she told the first elder. "No cards, no knives, no old women with sticks."

"I'm standing right here," the Moon-Keeper said.

"I know. I'm keeping an eye on you."

The old woman laughed so hard that her goat, which had been allowed to attend, bleated in sympathy.

Dane stood on Lorcan's side of the dock, which no one had expected.

He still leaned on the cane when he thought nobody was watching.

He had asked, in his dry way, whether a man who'd taken a silver blade for the truce was entitled to a good seat.

Lorcan had told him he was entitled to the best one.

Both packs filled the shore.

They stood mixed together on the stones, Ironwood red-browns and Blackwater greys, and a boy of nineteen was selling lemonade to both.

I came down the dock in my mother's old ivory dress, which Molly had taken in at the waist.

My father's coat hung from a nail at the end of the pier.

I'd asked for that.

Lorcan was waiting at the end in a plain dark suit with no ring on his right hand.

He wore the iron one on a cord inside his shirt, because he said it belonged to the pack and not to his finger.

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