“I’d rather we both took all of our clothes off,” Ronan teased.
“You didn’t say aught wrong. I realized I’m truly content being here with you just as we are. I could—want to—get used to it.”
Ronan kissed Abigail’s forehead before she tilted her head back, her need reflected in his whisky-hued eyes. She would happily drown in them if she could stare at him all day. He lowered his mouth to hers, and their kiss began softly. Abigail mused silently that Ronan was a quick study. He’d moved past his tentativeness and hesitation. He led this kiss, coaxing Abigail to open to him, cradling her skull and positioning her head, so he could devour her. His hand slipped beneath the yards of wool wrapped around her and grasped her backside. When her hips rocked forward, he tightened his grip. Abigail was ready to maul him, not caring who watched. The hand that already grasped the back of his leine tugged with impatience, while the hand that rested on his chest slid up to cup his jaw.
Abigail’s cool fingers against his scorching flesh made a heady contrast. Ronan reminded himself that they weren’t truly alone, and it was far too cold to ruck up Abigail’s skirts and take her against a tree, despite how the thought made his cock pulse. The feel of her lush backside in one of his hands while the other cupped her breast nearly made him cast aside his honor in favor of delicious sin. There was no doubt in Ronan’s mind that they were suited physically, but even before they kissed among the trees, he’d had little doubt that their personalities complemented each other.
They both panted as they pulled apart and gazed at one another. Soft smiles playing on their lips, a shared secret of what passed between them. Abigail closed her eyes once more, locking away the moment as a memory she would cherish until she was too old to remember. Ronan cupped her jaw and rubbed his nose against hers before dropping a tender kiss on her lips.
“I would remain out here forever, but you shall freeze, Abby. Then we won’t be able to enjoy aught.”
“I certainly don’t want that. I’m not eager to return to the keep, but now that you mention the cold, I must admit my toes are rather chilled.” Abigail cast him a flirtatious expression before she whispered. “But most of me is surely overheated.”
“I’m surprised I’m not melting the snow around us,” Ronan murmured. “I’d like to go for a walk tomorrow if the weather holds. Not just so we can do this, though I hope we do. I’d like time to talk. I want to know more aboot your life on Lewis and Stirling. I’d like to get to ken what you expect in a husband, a marriage, and life in a new clan.”
“I’d like to ken the same—I mean what you expect in a wife,” Abigail chuckled. “I want to learn aboot the MacKinnons, and I want to learn more aboot you. What I already know has convinced me—” Abigail snapped her mouth shut before she gave away how she felt.
“That we already suit?” Ronan provided. “And not just like this.”
“Aye.” Abigail nodded, relieved Ronan didn’t appear to think her foolish or disagreed.
“I still wish to know you better, Abby. But I want that because I believe we are well matched, because I think what exists between us already is the basis for something more.”
“I feel the same, Ronan. I want it to be more.”
“As do I.” Ronan brushed his lips against hers before they turned toward the tree line. Ronan whistled, and the men materialized like apparitions. They chatted as they walked back to the keep, sharing what they liked most about the island upon which they grew up and what they missed most about it. They chuckled when they finished one another’s sentences, their sentiments mutual. By the time they arrived at the keep, they were both certain they were more than halfway to being in love.
Ten
Abigail smiled as she watched Ronan joke with the man who rode beside him. She’d spent the rest of the week between their interlude in the library and their departure from Stirling enjoying Ronan’s company. It surprised her how accommodating the queen was. They’d been able to go for walks when the weather permitted, and they’d even gone riding one afternoon. They’d stopped to take in the vista, but with their horses shielding them from their guards’ view, their chatting soon turned into kissing. But when Abigail’s nose turned red and her eyes watered, Ronan hurried to take her back to the warmth of the castle.
Now she rode in the center of the party of riders headed to the Hebrides. It was the sixth day of their journey, and they’d encountered excellent weather despite traveling north. It was cold with frequent flurries, but no heavy snow. Ronan took turns leading their group and riding beside her. She encouraged him to ride at the front, where one would expect to find a laird, but he’d pulled her aside their first night and made it clear through his touches and kisses that he wanted to be near her as much as he could. Under the guise of guarding Abigail when she needed privacy as they made camp, they slipped away together. But they knew they couldn’t linger too long. Between the weather and their guards, much more than kisses and running their hands over one another wasn’t possible.
Ronan looked back over his shoulder and shot Abigail a knowing look that heated her from the inside out. They had a week’s worth of travel left before Abigail would reach Stornoway. They’d agreed that Ronan and his men would travel to the Isle of Lewis, so Ronan could request permission to court Abigail in person. She also suspected that he was nervous about her traveling with only a handful of guards in winter. She watched him say something to the surrounding men before he let them pass him on either side. Abigail rode up beside him.
“How’re you faring, Abby?” Ronan asked softly. “Your eyes are very glassy.”
Abigail pulled the scarf from her mouth and nose to speak. “I’m well. It’s just the wind.” She smiled warmly as Ronan’s brow furrowed. She could tell he wanted to disagree, even order them to stop early for her sake, but he nodded.
“What are you most looking forward to the moment you step inside? Other than getting warm,” Ronan chuckled.
“Besides speaking to Kieran and making him understand why you’ve come? I’d say playing with my nieces and nephew,” Abigail shared.
They’d spoken at great length over their six days on horseback, telling each other more about their childhoods and lives on their islands. It surprised neither of them how similar their experiences were living among the Hebrideans. They shared stories of their clan history, and it fascinated Abigail to learn that the MacKinnons believed they were descendants of St. Columba and the earliest kings of Scotland, the Alpins and MacAlpins. The folklore Ronan shared made Abigail believe in the validity of the MacKinnons’ claims.
Abigail retold the legend of the Fairy Flag and how it protected the MacLeods of Skye. When Ronan smirked and nodded his head, Abigail hissed and warned him that the fae would come after him. The MacLeods of Skye and Lewis believed Titania, the wife of Oberan, the king of fairies, was a “ban-shi”and warned the clan about impending attack and death. The MacLeods of Skye were the protectors of the “Braolauch shi” and could rely upon it in times of danger by unfurling it and summoning the fae to aid them. But if they unfurled it a third time, both the flag bearer and flag would be swept away to a mystical land of the fae. With her earnest expression and serious tone, Ronan relented and agreed it was possible. She’d broken into a wide grin and struggled not to laugh. She admitted she believed some parts of the legend, but not to the extent that the MacLeods of Skye did.
As morning passed into afternoon, Ronan watched the sky darken with thick clouds that looked ready to burst. He feared a blizzard awaited them. They approached Glencoe Pass, and he considered whether they should push through before the storm began or try to seek shelter in a cave. He feared keeping Abigail exposed to the elements when she already looked to be struggling, but he didn’t want them trapped if the blizzard snowed them into a cave. They would all freeze. He glanced at Abigail, whose eyes crinkled at the sides. He knew she was smiling beneath her scarf. He swept his eyes over the men who accompanied them and knew he didn’t have long to decide. There were a dozen guards along with the couple. If it started snowing, even lightly, it would slow their train of riders as they wound through the pass and into the glen.
“We need to make haste,” Ronan called out. “To a gallop.”
They’d been cantering at a comfortable pace, but a diagonal shadow from one cloud told him it had already begun to snow on the other side of the pass. The clouds moved toward them. The group spurred their horses, and Abigail tucked her head to hide her face from the wind. Ronan was proud of how Abigail made no complaints about the weather or the hard travel. He knew she didn’t dare since her men traveled because it was her wish to go home. He still admired her hardiness. As they entered the pass, the wind whipped around them, making Abigail struggle to stay upright. The flurries gathered on her eyelashes, and she feared her eyes might freeze shut. It could be slow going in many parts of the path, where the uneven ground forced the horses to trot in a line lest they take a wrong step and go lame.
“Laird MacKinnon,” a MacLeod guard called out. Ronan looked back over his shoulder to see his fear realized. The guard’s horse limped with each step. Ronan looked at Abigail and could tell her strength was draining faster than anyone else’s.
“Halt,” Ronan called out. He pulled a spare plaid from his saddlebag and snapped it open before wrapping it around Abigail. He swung down from his saddle and crunched through the accumulating snow until he reached the warrior and his horse.
“I dinna ken what happened, ma laird. He followed the other’s hoofsteps, but suddenly he began hobbling.” The guard ran his hand along his horse’s leg and lifted it to look at the hoof. “Bluidy hell! Begging yer pardon, Lady Abigail. Look, ma laird.” The man pointed to where the shoe was loose and had slid across the hoof. The nail had ripped part of the sole. The weight of a rider could have permanently injured the horse.
