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  Ah, ye cannot get away that easy, vixen.

  I giggled back at him in my mind and swam with all my might to give him a good chase. He quickly caught up with me though, and his arms coiled around me like a snake. He pulled me up out of the water and I barely got in a breath before he possessed me with his mouth, his tongue demanding and pulling against mine.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist and he moaned with pleasure, his hands running up and down my naked back. His kiss broke off sharply and he held me close, breathing hard and watching the water play over my breasts, pressed against his chest.

  “Wait,” he said, and I instantly began to argue until I saw the smile in his eyes. He kissed me once again and then swam away, leaving me quivering and confused. He swam over to the dock and dug something out of his sporran, then returned to me with a triumphant smile, taking me in his arms again. “I wanted to ask you proper and do this right, but you’ve forced my hand and called me out, as it were, so I cannot wait any longer.” His face got serious and he pulled one hand up to stroke my cheek.

  “I’ve wanted to make you my bride since the moment I laid eyes on you in that meadow, but I didn’t know how. I could kiss you and touch you, but I could never lie with you because I’d no way to offer you marriage. I’ve no priest for a ceremony and I couldn’t ask for your father’s blessing. I prayed to God every night and every morn as I sat watching you sleep.” I opened my mouth to protest and he put one finger to my lips.

  “And then, last night on the way back from the city, God answered my prayers and gave me an extraordinary gift when your father outlined the criteria of his blessing over your future husband.” His eyes were full of emotion as they held mine. “I’ve naught much else to offer but I do promise you, Lindsey Waters, before God himself and to your father on earth, that I love you more than my own soul, that I respect you, that I will always be honest and tell you the truth, even if it hurts me to say it. There is naught in this life or the next that I want more than your happiness, and I swear to you that I will stay with you as long as it is in my power, if you will be my bride.”

  Tears streamed down my face as I nodded feebly, overcome with emotion. He took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers and holding it against his heart. “Many years ago in Scotland, couples would have to wait as much as a year for a priest to come through the Highlands before they could be rightly married in the eyes of the church. So we had a tradition called handfasting, where a couple could pledge their love for one another and be married in the eyes of God for a year and one day. And at the end of that time, they’d either be officially married by a priest or they’d go their separate ways.”

  “But I don’t want to be married to you for a year and a day. I want to be married to you for the rest of all time. And we may not even have another week.” The flame of hope within me started to dim with worry.

  “I don’t know how much time we’ve got, but I love you this moment and I’ll love you forever. The angel promised that love would redeem me and I don’t know how, but I know that it will. So I will not count the days if you’ll promise me the same, my love.” I nodded, slowly at first and then more emphatically, the tears beginning again.

  “I do. I do! I love you, Aiden MacRae.” I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him, my heart straining in my chest. I felt the warmth of God’s presence flow throughout my limbs and knew that He approved, however much time we had. Aiden held me close as we kissed, then pulled away, grinning.

  “And I love you, Mrs. MacRae.”

  The title sounded strange and wonderful to my ears and I could tell he felt the same as he said it. He slid a ring on my finger and I realized it was what he’d taken out of his sporran earlier. An intricate looping design was carved into the gold ring, with a large emerald in the center and two brilliantly clear diamonds on each side. I squealed with joy and he laughed, swinging me around in a circle in the water.

  He scooped me up in his arms like he was going to carry me across the threshold and walked slowly toward the beach, his eyes full of emotion and passion. I clung to him with my arms around his neck as the water fell away and he lay me down gently on the sand. He stood before me, dripping wet, and my whole body shivered with desire. I reached my arms up to him, and we made love in the sand, our bodies moving together in rhythm with the waves.

  “Oh, my love, ma chérie, mo chridhe.” The words tumbled out of him as we lay there panting, twitching with aftershocks. I was completely spent, physically and emotionally, lying there in the sand with Aiden in my arms, and yet I’d never felt more alive and in love than at that moment. I kissed his forehead and his breathing slowed to a deep, satisfied rhythm, and he rolled onto his side next to me.

  “You are amazing, my bride. I cannot even describe what you do to me.” He propped himself up on one elbow and smiled down at me with half-closed eyes. He ran a sandy finger down the length of my body from my neck to my knees and I returned his dreamy smile.

  “Oh, I think I know.”

  He grinned at that, chuckling softly and lay back on the sand. I nuzzled up under his arm with my head on his chest and curled my leg around him, and we lay there talking and touching in the sand until the stars came out.

  Chapter 15

  Goose bumps rose on my flesh in the cool evening air, though Aiden still felt warm to the touch. “Brrr… how do you stay so warm?” I asked.

  He rubbed his hands over my back to try and warm my skin. “I can’t say for sure. I’ve just always been that way. I very rarely get cold and when I do, it doesn’t take me long to get warm again. It’s no wonder that you’re chittering though, since you’ve skin as thin as paper, my bride.”

  “Well, it’s going to be freezing,” I said, “but I’ve got to rinse off all this sand.” I jumped up onto the dock, ran to the edge and dove in. Gasping from the shock of the cold water, I emerged to find him smirking at me. When I dared him to follow suit, he shrugged and slowly walked into the lake, eyes locked onto mine, his face never registering the chill of the water. “How do you d-d-do that?” I asked.

  “The lochs in Scotland are colder than this by far and we lads used to jump in when there was snow on the ground,” he said as he pulled me into his arms. The warmth from his body wrapped around me, drawing out the chill and heating my blood. Moonlight reflected on the water and in his eyes as he held me. I ran my hands over him, rinsing off the sand. He dipped his head back into the water and sighed contentedly as I worked my fingers through his hair. He did the same for me, then scooped me up into his arms and started walking back toward the beach.

  “Again? Already?” I said. His chest shook with laughter as I held onto his neck.

  “I had in mind to carry you to the cabin so you wouldn’t get sand on your feet. But aye, I would love to do it again whenever you like.” Heat flashed in my cheeks at having mistaken his gallant gesture.

  Once he set me on my feet inside the door, he cast himself back into a dry kilt and linen shirt, though he left his feet bare. I didn’t exactly have a trousseau but remembered that this was, in fact, my bridal night, so I imagined myself in a floor-length white silk nightgown with spaghetti straps. Aiden set to work rebuilding the fire and I sat on the couch, watching him with my feet tucked under me.

  “You know, I’d never seen a man in a kilt before I met you,” I said.

  Aiden kept working with his head in the fireplace as he arranged the logs and paper. “Aye?” he responded.

  I think it’s really sexy.

  He froze for a second, then dropped the wood into place and turned to me, one eyebrow raised. “Aye?” he repeated. I nodded and giggled. His eyes swept over my nightgown and he smiled appreciatively. He lit the fire and then sat next to me on the couch. I put my legs over his and he stroked them under my nightie.

  “You have the softest skin,” he said.

  I played with his hair, enjoying the warmth that had begun to emanate from the fire. “Well, I haven’t had to shave at all since I came here, wh
ich is nice.”

  “You shave your legs? Like a man shaves his face? With a straight edge?”

  I chuckled at his perplexed expression. “Sort of. My armpits, too.”

  “I noticed you’ve no hair in your oxters. But why would you do that?”

  “For the same reason you just said—because it’s soft and smooth. And because guys like it.”

  “Hmph.” He frowned and pulled my nightgown up to my knees, exposing my legs. After running his hands over them, he sighed, his eyes meeting mine in surrender. “You’re right. I do like it.”

  I grinned and he leaned forward to kiss me softly. I held his face as we kissed and the firelight glinted off the gems in my wedding ring. “Where did you get this ring? It’s so beautiful,” I said.

  “I’m glad you like it. It belonged to Uncle Alex’s mother, Nanny Fraser. My aunt and uncle didn’t have any children, so he gave the ring to me. My brother Duncan had Graunie MacRae’s ring to give to his bride, but since the Frasers were very wealthy, my ring was worth a great deal more than what Duncan had. I never showed it to him, though. I didn’t want him to punch my face in.”

  “Come on, he wouldn’t really.”

  “Oh, indeed he would. Mam used to call us wild dogs because we were always bloodying each other over something. We had an unspoken rule that we couldn’t use our weapons against each other, but anything else was fair game. Mind you, he was a fair bit older than me but I held my own.” He barked out a laugh then, his face breaking into a huge smile. “In fact, once I even…” His face flushed red and he turned away, waving his hand in dismissal. “Never mind.”

  “What? Tell me!”

  “It’s fair embarrassing. I cannot tell you.”

  “Please?” I asked in my sweetest tone.

  He laughed and shook his head like I was mad. “I don’t know what it is about you but you always surprise me. You seem to get pleasure from the oddest things. First my kissing the bird woman at the palace and now this. I’m not sure you’re well.”

  I smacked him on the arm, my face set and determined. “Quit stalling. Come on, out with it.”

  “All right, all right. I was going to say that we had such a bad brawl one time that I broke his nose.” My eyes grew wide but I kept quiet, waiting for him to elaborate. “I was… well… how do I say it?” He coughed, steeling himself, and the words tumbled out of him in a confession.

  “I was thirteen years old, out in the field tending the horses. Eachann, our brown stallion was mating with the grey mare Arabella. She had her tail in the air and he was pulled up behind her, his front legs pressed against her sides as he took her, and I stood there watching them. And to be quite honest, I was very excited by it. Duncan saw me watching the horses and said something that I will not repeat to you.” He frowned at me in warning to not push him on it. “I was so embarrassed that I went after him in a wild rage and didn’t stop until I’d broken his nose and he apologized.”

  I stifled a giggle, not wanting to hurt his feelings but he could see the mirth in my eyes. He shook his head, laughing. “Uncle William took the strap to me awful fierce for what I’d done. Twenty lashes and my arse was so blistered that I couldn’t ride a horse for a week!” He winced and dramatically rubbed his backside. “But it was completely worth it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. He so deserved it, the auld bugger.”

  My giggles broke loose and he joined in, relieved to have gotten through his story. “Well, I’m glad your uncle didn’t do any lasting damage to your arse,” I said, “since I happen to be rather fond of it.” I reached out and pinched him in demonstration.

  “Are ye now?” he asked, laying on the accent thick. With a wicked gleam in his eye, he leaned me back against the couch and I promptly forgot what we were talking about.

  Chapter 16

  In the morning, I sang along with the stereo while making huckleberry pancakes. Aiden came up behind me as I ladled batter into the skillet and put his arms around my waist. We swayed back and forth to the music.

  “You’ve a beautiful voice, mo chridhe. I’ve been meaning to tell you that.”

  “Thanks,” I said. He spun me around and we danced around the kitchen. “Did you know that you sing in your sleep? I’ve spent a fair amount of time watching you sleep and you’ll often hum a song in your dreams.”

  “No, no one’s ever told me that before.” I giggled as he twirled me around, then dipped me dramatically at the end of the song. He gestured to a small, framed picture on the wall, one of me when I was about five years old.

  “I like that painting of you as a lassie with the pig tails in your hair, holding up the wee fish that you caught, looking so proud. How did the artist make it so clear?”

  “It’s not a painting, actually. It’s called a picture,” I said, setting a plate in front of him as he sat at the card table. “It’s made with a little square box called a camera. Come to think of it…” I rustled through the drawers in the kitchen. “Aha!” I exclaimed, digging the digital camera out from under a stack of cloth napkins. I sat down on his lap, my cheek pressed close to his and, holding the camera out in front of us, snapped our picture. I switched it to playback mode and handed it to him. “See?”

  “That’s incredible. How do you get it out of the box, then?” He shook the camera up and down.

  “No, you have to have it printed on paper. Would you like to see some more?” He nodded, taking a bite of breakfast, and I fetched the old photo album from the living room. He thumbed through it as we ate, then pointed out a photo of me at age two in a pink polka dotted bikini making a sandcastle, my toddler belly sticking out like a round melon.

  “My goodness, you were a cute wee bairn with your curly hair short and tight on your head like a bonnet.” He turned the page. “Ah, here’s one of your parents back when they were younger,” he said. Mom and Dad were gazing into each other’s eyes, sharing a private smile, obviously unaware that someone was taking their photograph. “Perhaps they weren’t always so unhappy together, eh?” I pulled the album around so I could see it better and studied the picture with a frown.

  “You’re right. They look like they’re in love to me,” I said and pushed the album away, not willing to examine the feelings that stirred up in me.

  “What about your parents?” I asked. “What were they like? I remember your mother from the painting at the château, but I don’t know what your father looked like. Do you remember him much at all?”

  “Aye, I have a few memories of him before he died.” He smiled in remembrance, his eyes far away as he ate, quietly thinking. I was eager to ask him more but decided to wait until he was ready to continue. He took a sip of coffee and then leaned back in the chair with a deep breath, his hands behind his head. “My Da… he was… how do I describe him? Larger than life, I suppose, though I don’t know if he really was, or if that’s just how I remember him because I was so young when he died. He was tall and strong, but agile like a man half his size. He loved to joke around and people would cross a room to be near him.

  “My mam, she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. She was gentle and motherly, but easily overwhelmed by us lads. Da kept us in line, but she had a very hard time with us after he died.” He grew silent, swept up in thoughts of his family lost long ago. He shrugged, trying to shake it off. “They loved each other something fierce, though. That I knew fine, even as a wee lad. And though I was only six when he died, I learned what it means to love a woman from my Da.” He reached out and took my hand, looking down at my wedding band as he rolled it back and forth with his fingers.

  “Do you suppose I could meet them?” I asked, knowing it would be difficult for him to see them again, but really wanting to share in his past. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, as if he’d never thought of casting the memory for me.

  “Hmph. Aye, I suppose I could take you there to see them. It’s a pity they cannot meet you. I think they’d like you very much.”

  When I leaned across the table to kiss him,
his lips were sweet with maple syrup.

  “I would love for you to meet them. Still, I must warn you that I don’t have many memories to choose from. They may not be so… delicate.” His eyes twinkled and I cocked one eyebrow at him, intrigued. He broke into a full belly laugh and set me on my feet, taking my hand as he cast the memory before us.

  The warm kitchen melted away in waves and the cold, damp air of Scotland wrapped its fingers around me, making me shiver in my long skirts and heavy woolen cloak. Our breath created translucent puffs in the wintry air and I huddled close to Aiden. He seemed perfectly comfortable in his linen shirt and kilt even though a light dusting of snow covered the ground. His mother stood next to us outside the front of the castle, trying to contain two fidgeting little boys.

  “Shhh, lads, they’ll be at the gate soon enough,” she said. Her plain skirts and overcoat hung on thin shoulders, though she stood a head taller than me. Curly strands of blonde hair snuck out of her bonnet, trickling down over her shoulders. Anxiety lined her face as she attempted to keep the boys in line. Aiden and Duncan pushed and shoved one another, completely undeterred by their mother’s admonitions to be quiet. I smiled at their miniature kilts and wavy blond hair, flowing loose over their shoulders.

  The sound of horses reached us and I could just make out a small band of men at the far end of the bridge. Aiden’s mother released her hold on the boys’ shoulders and they took off running across the bridge. Duncan reached the men first and cried out to the big, red-haired man at the head of the group. His father’s face broke into a wide smile. He reached down a calloused hand and pulled the boy onto the horse in front of him in one easy motion. He ruffled Duncan’s hair and squeezed him with a large forearm until the boy gasped for air. Aiden finally made it to the horses, wheezing out a “Da!,” his face filled with pure joy at the arrival of his father.

  “Aiden, my boy!” his father called out in a deep, booming voice. He expertly shifted his weight on the horse to reach low enough to pull him up. Aiden crawled over his brother, purposefully stepping on Duncan’s hand, I was pretty sure, and latched himself onto his father’s back like a monkey.