The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3) (30 page)

“I don’t mind at all.” She smiled through the tears filling her eyes.

A bath, a change of clothes into a gown and an hour later she and Hunter walked to the church with Margaret and the soldiers in attendance. It seemed fitting. Perfect. Inverness’s church was much more opulent than the one in Loch Moigh. This one had a lovely marble floor and stained-glass windows, not elaborate scenes, but geometric in design. Simple yet elegant.

Meghan’s walk down the aisle was not what she’d imagined when she thought about getting married. Her gown, too short by a good two inches, was not white, but blue, and she held no bouquet. Her mother, father, brothers and grandparents were not sitting in the pews. She bit her lip and blinked against the sting in her eyes.

Hunter looped her arm through his. “I ken ’tis a hasty affair, love, but I dinna want to wait another moment to make you mine. We must ride for home on the morrow, and—”

“It’s all right. I was just thinking of my family.”

Hunter put his arm around her shoulders. “I am sorry for that, lass.”

“I don’t blame you for what happened. I never did.” She laid her head on his shoulder for a second. “Áine brought us together.”

They reached the altar where the priest awaited them. He lowered his brow and pursed his lips in disapproval. “This is highly irregular, my lord. No banns have been called, and I have no contract for marriage before me. Must I marry you in the back of the kirk? Is the lady, er . . .”

“Nay, Father,” Hunter said. “We must travel in haste, and I think it best for the lady’s honor if we say our vows before we leave. She will be unescorted by any other women on our journey.”

Tieren stepped forward. “You will be well compensated for your trouble, Father.”

The priest’s brow rose a smidgen, and he spared her a glance. “Are ye being forced into this, my lady?”

“No.” She looked into Hunter’s beloved gray eyes. “I am more than willing.”

“So be it. Kneel here.” The priest moved behind the altar and began the mass.

“It’s in Latin,” she whispered. “I don’t understand a thing he’s saying.”

Hunter leaned close. “No matter. I pledge to honor, cherish and protect you all the days of your life, Meg.” He reached into his sporran and pulled out a band of gold.

“Where did you get the ring?”

“From the smithy. If it does no’ fit, we’ll have him fix it.”

The priest cleared his throat and sent them both a stern look. Her heart fluttered away in her chest, and the priest droned on. She hardly noticed. Hunter knelt beside her, his eyes filled with love and tenderness as they met hers. They made the appropriate responses when the priest asked it of them, and Hunter slipped the ring on her finger when told to do so. Happiness filled her near to bursting. Never in a million years would she have guessed she’d be snatched from her time, only to find her love in the past.

Finally the mass ended. She was married. Her husband clasped her hand in his and led her out of the church. Amidst the congratulations, Margaret whispered that she’d had the same chamber Meghan had stayed in the night before prepared for their wedding night.

A small feast awaited them in the great hall. Food was the last thing on her mind. Hunter led her to the table on the dais and helped her settle into a chair, while servants poured wine and ale. Every moment she’d shared with Hunter since the day he’d snatched her from the exhibition with her father played through her mind. She smiled.

“What is it,
mo céil
e
?”

“I was just thinking about what led up to this point.” She leaned against him, soaking up the warmth he radiated. “I will always miss my family, but I’m happy.”

“It gladdens my heart to hear you say it. You were right all along, Meg. I was as blind as your grandmother’s thirteen-year-old pug.” He winked. “What is a pug, if you dinna mind my asking?”

She held her hands out to show him about how big most pugs were. “They are funny little dogs with pushed-in faces that make snoring noises when they breathe.” She chuckled at his disgruntled expression. “I was frustrated with you when I said it.”

“I imagine you were.” He rubbed her palm with his thumb, his gaze filled with tenderness. “But you have forgiven me, aye?”

She nodded, and answering heat uncoiled within her. She couldn’t wait to be alone with him. Meghan ate a few bites, had a goblet of very nice wine, and nudged her husband in the side. “How long do we have to stay here?”

“No’ another moment.” He rose and held out his hand to help her up. “My lady wife and I bid you all good eve. Our thanks for joining us to celebrate our wedding.” He bowed to the small group of soldiers who were more than happy to stuff their faces and drink ale. The men cheered and stomped their feet.

“We’re in the chamber I had last night, Hunter.” She held on to his hand with both of hers.

“I would prefer to be with you under the sky and the pines like we were. That morning will always hold a place in my heart.”

“We argued,” she said, frowning up at him. Anticipation quickened her pulse, and a surge of desire swept through her.

“You gave yourself to me.” He opened the chamber door and waited for her to enter. “I will never forget how sweet you were in my arms that morn.”

The covers on the large four-poster bed had been turned down, and a nice fire burned in the hearth. Two goblets and a pitcher of wine sat on the table in the corner. Sunlight poured into the room from the window. Everything was perfect. She turned the ring on her finger. “Our wedding night is more like a wedding afternoon.”

“Still, I propose we remain abed until morning, wife.”

“I’m all for that, husband.” She walked into his arms and tilted her head up for his kiss. He brushed his lips over hers and then nibbled at her bottom lip. Shivers of anticipation raced along her nerves. She put her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, gratified when he groaned. Tugging and unbuckling, Meghan soon had him the way she wanted him—gloriously naked. Hunter returned the favor, and they held each other in the middle of the room.

“Dinna ever leave me, lass. Swear it.”

“I would never leave you, Hunter, but—”

“Dinna say everyone dies. I ken as much.” He stared intently into her eyes. “That’s no’ what I mean. I took you from your time. What if you get the chance to go back?”

“I’m right where I am meant to be.” She tightened her arms around his waist. “I will stay with you forever. I swear it.” Her family would always be with her in her heart, but deep in her bones she knew she belonged with Hunter, whatever the century might be.

“I ken my place now, Meg.” He kissed her, stroking her skin with his callused hands, building the fire already smoldering between them. He nuzzled her neck and whispered, “In your arms, I am home. This is where I belong.”

Hunter scooped her up and carried her to the bed, placing her in the center of the feather mattress. He stretched out next to her, and his heated gaze roamed over her. “Mine.”

Meghan ran her palms over his muscled chest. Would she ever get used to how powerful he was? “Mine.”

He chuckled and rolled over to cover her. Keeping his weight propped up on his elbows, he grinned down at her. “Beag Curaidh, ’tis true. I am yours.”

His lovemaking was slow, tender and reverent. Passion flared, but her husband kept the fires banked. In this she was in perfect agreement. She wanted the sweet melding of their bodies and souls to last. Together they climbed to the peak of pleasure. Hunter called out her name when he came, and she fell apart in his strong arms.

Satisfied and happy, she lay in her husband’s arms. “We’re riding into a war at home.”

“Aye.” He tightened his arms around her. “With you by my side, I’ve no doubt of the outcome, lass. You are
almost
as skilled as I.”

“Almost
?
”
She pushed herself up to glare at him. He laughed, and his joy turned her insides to melted chocolate. He’d lost so much, gone through so much as a child, and seeing him so happy meant the world to her. “Any time, any place, consider the gauntlet tossed.”

“Och, I only tease. You are every bit as skilled as . . . Allain.”

She huffed out a disgruntled breath. He ran his hands up and down her arms, chuckling again.

“I would have you train our men in the mixed martial arts, Beag Curaidh. ’Twill give us another advantage against our enemies.”

“I would love to train our men.” She should tell him about gun powder, cannon and pistols. They would change things forever, and she wanted their clan to be prepared. Not now though. She didn’t want to talk about wars and fighting when she had only loving him on her mind.

“That reminds me,” he said as he got up and crossed the room to their pile of discarded clothing. He snatched up his sporran and opened it. Pulling out her spurs, he shot her a sheepish look. “I am ashamed to admit that I kept these.” He padded back to the bed.
“
’
Twas selfish, but I wanted something to remember you by, and these . . . Och, you are a knight in every sense of the word, and your spurs, more than anything else . . .” He placed them in her outstretched hands. “Nothing could be more fitting to remind me of you. You will always be my Beag Curaidh. I will never forget how you saved Allain’s life, or how you defeated me so easily the day I took you from your father.”

Meghan held the spurs in her hands. Her father had given them to her when she’d passed all his tests of skill and strength. Her father had trained her. Had he suspected all along one of his children would travel back through time to balance the scales? Meghan set the spurs aside and held her arms out to Hunter. She was sure of one thing. She loved her pea-brained, obstinate knight, and her home was wherever he might be.

E
PILOGUE

O
ne Year Later

H
unter paced around his great hall. “Was it like this for you when Sky Elizabeth was born, Da? Did you make yourself ill with worry?” he asked, glancing at Malcolm where he sat by the hearth, his legs outstretched and an ale in his hands.

“Aye. What father to-be does no’ worry?” Malcolm shot him a crooked smile.

“At least my Erin is with her, lad.” Robley held up his mug of ale. “And Lady True. She could no’ be in better hands.”

“Aye, I ken as much, but . . . hasn’t it gone on too long?” Hunter stared at the stairs leading to his chamber, where Meghan labored to give birth to their son. “I should go to her.”

“Nay.” Robley shook his head. “You should turn your mind to something else. The women will send someone with word should you be needed. Tell us how it goes with you and the MacKenzie clan?”

Malcolm straightened in his chair. “Aye, have there been any acts of aggression of late?”

Hunter stood before the hearth. “None for several months now. We are surrounded on all sides by MacKenzie land, but your lands border theirs to the east, and we’ve the Sutherlands to the north. For every croft they’ve raided, I’ve retaliated threefold. For every attack and ambush where they’ve taken a MacConnell life, I’ve taken ten of theirs.” Hunter glanced up the stairs again. Did he only imagine he heard the cry of his newborn son? “The MacKenzies will trouble us no more, of that I am certain.” He glanced at his foster father and Rob. “My thanks to you both for coming, and especially for bringing Erin and Ma with you.”

“Och, we would no’ have missed the birth of our first grandchild for anything, Hunter.” Malcolm’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “Your ma and I are gladdened to see you so content.”

The doors to the great hall opened, and Áine entered, bringing the scent of a soft summer rain into the hall with her. She wore the guise of the old crone, of course. She always did whilst visiting.

“Shite.” Malcolm shot up from his place and moved as far away from her as he could without leaving the hall.

Hunter grinned. “Áine, welcome.” He gave his fae ancestor a hug. “You’ve come for news of our bairn?”

“I need no news.” She patted his cheek. “Stop worrying, Grandson. Meghan and your heir are both fine.” Turning to glance at Malcolm, she arched a brow. “You have no reason to fear me, Malcolm. Have I not told you oft enough? Must you cower in the corner so?”

“I dinna fear you, madam.” Malcolm stayed where he was. “I simply find this corner of the great hall particularly comfortable.”

True appeared at the top of the stairs and started down. “Hunter, come meet your son. He’s perfect, and Meghan is well. She’s asking for you.”

He ran for the stairs, taking them three at a time, his heart thundering away in his chest.

Erin peered down the corridor at him. She held the door open. “Everything went well, Hunter. I’ll leave you with your wife and son for a while, but I’ll be back to check on her soon.”

“My thanks, Erin.” He gave her a quick hug. “We are so blessed to have you here.” His eyes stung as he caught sight of his wife. She held their swaddled bairn to her breast, and she fair glowed with contentment and happiness. He swore his feet scarce touched the floorboards as he made his way to her side. She scooted over to make room for him, and he lowered himself to the bed beside her.

“Let me see our wee lad, my love.” He put his arm around her just as their son’s eyes closed.

Meghan placed their bairn on her lap and unwrapped him. “Isn’t he beautiful, Hunter?”

He put his forefinger under his son’s tiny hand, and the lad’s fingers took hold. Hunter’s heart turned over in his chest. “That he is, my love. Ne’er has there been such a perfect bairn, and he’s ours.” He drew her close and kissed her forehead. “What shall we call him? Did you decide between Connor or Mahon?” He touched his son’s downy head. “May I hold him?”

“Of course you can hold him. He just ate, so you might want to pat his back a little.” Meghan laid a folded piece of linen on his shoulder, and then she wrapped the blankets around their son again. “Remember to support his head.”

“Aye, my love. I do have younger foster sisters and brothers, you ken. This willna be the first time I’ve held a bairn.” He took his son from her. “You must be tired. Why don’t you rest? I’ll be right here to watch over you both.”
Now and forever.
His chest filled with pride and love as he beheld the small circle of his family. Their circle would grow with time, but for now, he had more than enough. He wanted for nothing.

She yawned. “I hear footsteps in the hall. I’ll rest once everyone has gotten a chance to meet Connor.” She glanced at him. “I hope you’re OK with the name. If we have another son, we’ll call him Mahon after your father.”

“Agreed.” Their chamber door opened, and Malcolm and Robley
entered.

“No more than two at a time can visit, and for no more than a few moments.” Malcolm came to stand by their bed.
“
’Tis Erin’s orders.” He leaned close. “Let’s have a look at him, my lad.”

His foster father and Robley made a fuss over Connor for their allotted time, and then they left. Áine entered next. Her face lit with joy, and the corners of her birdlike eyes creased. He no longer had any trouble with her true appearance, but for the sake of their villagers, she came to them as Madame Giselle. Now that the old baron had passed, his clan no longer feared their fae heritage, and many, especially those who possessed fae abilities, suspected the old crone was more than she appeared to be.

“It’s good to see you, Áine,” Meghan said. “Would you like to meet the newest member of our family?”

“Aye, let me hold him.” She held out her arms. “You are well, child?” she asked Meghan.

“I couldn’t be better, thank you,” Meghan said, beaming.

Hunter didn’t hesitate, and rose with his son against his shoulder. Placing the bairn in her outstretched arms, he told her, “We’re calling him Connor after Meghan’s father.”

“He’s a fine lad,” she said, rocking him gently and gazing at his face. “A fine lad indeed.”

“I owe you my thanks, Granddam.”

“Nonsense. You owe me nothing. Take care of your family, Hunter.” She kissed Connor’s forehead and handed him back. “I’ll check in with you from time to time, but for now, I must leave.”

For an instant, her appearance wavered and shimmered, and he caught a glimpse of her true being. “We will miss you, my lady. Dinna be gone for too long.”

Áine’s soft laughter filled their chamber and his heart.

“Time is relative, Grandson. A moment to me is a lifetime to you. If I wish, I can visit you as a wee lad, or as you will be in your dotage. Time does not stretch out in a line as you mortals think, but coils and bends over itself. It is a road with many stops along the way, both ahead and behind. Know this: you have my blessing and my protection in all things.” Her eyes glowed blue. “I want only the best for you.”

A nod was all he could manage. His heart was so full, speech was beyond him. His gaze went to his wife.

“We will miss you, Áine,” Meghan said. “Don’t be away from us for too long, whether in the past or the future.”

As always, Meghan kent exactly what he felt and what to say. She was his center, his love, and he couldn’t imagine his life without her. He nodded again, and Áine took her leave.

Hunter moved back to his place beside his wife. He placed their son on his lap, and they both watched as Connor slept. “I love you, Beag Curaidh.”

“And I you,” she whispered with a yawn.

“Sleep, lass. I have your back.” His wife sighed and placed her head on his shoulder. He drew her close and rested his cheek on top of her head as she closed her lovely brown eyes. Content, he held his family in his arms, secure in his place and in his purpose.