It was as if . . .
“Jamie?” It was the barest thread of sound. “Mo chridhe?”
She cupped his jaw with one of her wee hands.
“Youpromisedtae never leave me. Youpromisedthat it would only ever be me for ye. Youmarriedme, Kieran MacTavish! How could ye renege on that? How could ye?!”
Joy blazed through him.
A scouring wildfire, cleansing his soul in its wake.
He raked a hand into her hair. Pulled her to him. And kissed her.
No thought. No finesse.
Just a bone-deep need for connection, for this moment . . . with hiswife.
She responded with near savage hunger, crawling onto his lap and pressing her body into his.
At last!
She was in his arms, kissing him just as he remembered.
Kissing him as ifsheremembered.
“My love,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his cheek, his jaw, his throat. “Husband.”
It was too much.
He thought he had lost her yet again . . .
And now . . . this . . .
The pressure in his chest built and built.
A terrible sob tore through him.
Then . . . another.
He clutched her to him.
“My Kieran. Darling.” She gathered him close, holding his head to hers.
Her own greiting soon mingled with his.
The relief!
The agonizing joy of it.
She was here.
She had remembered.
They held one another for a long while, until their harsh sobs quieted and Kieran felt equal to speaking once more.
“T-tell me,” he whispered, wiping his wet cheeks. “Tell me what h-happened. What changed?”
“It was the fireworks. Or rather . . .” She paused, thinking, resting her head on his chest. “I finally allowed myself to be receptive to the thought of ye. I was so scared of my memories, so paralyzed. But once I opened myself up to the possibility, the fireworks battered through the rest of my barriers, and my memories came flooding back.”
