Lucan.
“Anamchara,” Lucan greets with a soft smile and a direct glance into my eyes. “My lovely anamchara.”
What it does to me to hear him use this word. I put my hand over his mouth. “You can’t speak Irish to me in church,” I warn, keeping my voice soft in the hopes that I’m saying this for his ears alone.
Lucan’s eyes snap to mine the moment my palm meets his lips. He kisses my hand but doesn’t otherwise move. “Fayr enuf,” he murmurs.
I give him a nod so prim Mary Poppins would be proud, and lower my hand to my lap. “Thank you.”
Donal has been cueing the congregation to grab their songbooks and turn to “Mary Did You Know.”
Lucan’s gaze stays fixed to mine as he reaches out with his long arm, his tailored suit making him look even more masculine, even more impressive, if it’s possible. He plucks a songbook out of the tray, setting it so that it’s opened with the left side on his thigh, the right side of the book on my thigh, and he turns expertly to the page with “Mary Did You Know,” either because he was listening better to Donal than I was in regards to the page number, or because Lucan just knows the book that confidently.
Either way, his competence is sexy. So is his direct look.
To my shock, he holds eye contact until the congregation finds their pages and begins to sing, the rustling and the hush before the song begins turning absolutely electrifying. Lucan shares the book with me on our laps and brings his arm up behind me, resting it along the length of the pew, connecting our bodies shoulder to knees until my skin hums. It’s the weirdest, most innocent-feeling flirting I think I’ve had since my playground days.
When the song ends, and Donal asks everyone to kneel for final prayer, I whisper to Lucan, “I’m ready for the Mating Ceremony. Whenever you are.”
I expect him to meet my eyes to acknowledge what I’ve said. He does—but he also grabs me and hauls me against him, not letting me go even while we pray—he just guides us down to the kneeling pillow and we join the prayer like that, embracing each other.
When it ends and everybody moves to stand, Lucan hauls me up and calls out to the whole congregation, “Susan and I are getting Mated!”
Everybody cheers.
Easily two hundred voices reflect off the stone walls, the reverberation impressive to the ear. “Congratulations!”
The girls are going wild beside us, like we’ve won the lottery.
Gazing at Lucan, I know we have.
I tug him to me and set my mouth against his ear so he’ll be able to hear me over everyone’s excitement. “Will your mom and dad want to be here for the ceremony?”
He pulls far enough away that he can meet my gaze. “I don’t want to wait another moment. They’ll understand. But what do you want?”
I smile and search his eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, we became a thing back at the parsonage.”
Ginny makes a squeak beside me, pulling both our attention to her. She’s almost bouncing on the pew, eyes bright with happiness even as she looks a touch guilty. “Sorry for eavesdropping, I can’t help it!” She taps her ear. Her werewolf hearing works perfectly well in her human form. “Guys, we’re so happy for you!”
Charlotte starts waving wildly beside her.
I glance in the direction she’s waving—up front—and see Finn and Rooker standing off to the side of the podium, beaming at us.
Finn calls. “We’ve got you covered, lads! Don’t you worry!” He’s shed his choir robes, and he’s carrying something with Rooker. Something on a long wooden slab, something that, although it’s covered in white silk, is shaped exactly like a—
He draws the cover off to reveal a three-tiered wedding cake. Snowy white, with gold and bright yellow ribbons of icing swirling all around the frosting.
Unless there was a bakery shop that just happened to have this on hand, someone (or several someones) stayed up all night baking and decorating this magnificent edible artwork.
“Maggie!” Finn shouts, grinning. “Come here and lend us a hand, would you? Yeah, Liam, you can come help too.”
The pair of them clamber over us and scramble out of the pew, enthusiastic for the chance to get closer to the cake.
Finn jerks his chin to items that weren’t present beside the pulpit a few minutes ago. There’s a five-gallon bucket with a metal lid, a stack of paper bowls with a