He pulled back, looking down at her. His heart in his eyes, his face solemn. “I did not expect ye, Arabella Hughes. I did not plan for ye.” He shook his head and heaved out a breath.
Green eyes shining with emotion, he reached for her muddy hand, taking it in his and holding it against his chest. “But what does that matter when I’ve come tae love ye like I do? When if ye leave, ye’ll break me? Cleave my very heart in two?” He swallowed hard, his voice rough. “I love ye.” He pressed her hand to his heart. “And I ken what I’m asking ye tae give up, Arabella. I ken. But I’m asking anyway. Stay. Stay here in the Highlands and marry me.”
It had been almost two months since she’d arrived in Scotland. Two months since this place had begun to work on her mind and heart, its winds tugging at her, its vistas soothing her, smoothing away her sharp angles, softening all the rigidity that had been bred in her from the day she was born.
Scotland. She remembered the journey north, thinking it was one of Dante’s nine circles of hell. But now she saw it as a haven. A heaven. A place where she’d come to know herself, to know what she wanted.
And even covered head to toe in mud, she wanted Gavin Alexander McKenzie.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Yes?” he pressed.
“Yes, I’ll stay.”
“And?”
She smiled up at him. “Marry you.”
Heart bursting, all of Arabella’s hesitations, every qualm and fear and worry were razed under the force of Gavin’s gaze. His mouth was on hers again, yearning and sweet. Impossibly soft.
“Gavin,” she whispered.
“I think I loved ye from that very first day,” he said between kisses. “The haughty set of your chin. Your insults. The way ye tried tae be so prim when inside of ye was a fiery Scottish lass.”
She laughed against his lips. “It took me a little longer.”
“I dinnae believe it.” His fingers brushed behind her ear. “Ye loved me from the moment I stabbed that piece of fish and put it in my mouth.”
She giggled, not denying it.
He kissed her again, slowly, tenderly, as if sealing the agreement between them.
When they finally pulled away from one another, Arabella’s skin was humming, her heart singing. She took his hand, threading her fingers through his. “Do I still get that tour of the abbey you promised me? I’d like to know why you love this place so much, Gavin.”
“Of course.” He nodded, face grave. “But before I do, I have just one question.”
“Yes?” Her voice was a breathless whisper.
He grinned down at her. “Now who, exactly, would ye say initiated that kiss?”
IT WAS LATE afternoon as Gavin guided Baird up the hill toward Nan’s house. He glanced over at Arabella, riding with her usual faultless posture even though she looked as if she’d fallen into a muddy bog. Gavin was halfway certain the groom trailing behind them thought them both mad, but he didn’t care. Not when Arabella had agreed to marry him.
Not when, after he made her his wife, he would finally have a family again.
“We cannot let Grandmother see you,” Arabella told him, laughing. “Heaven knows what she’d think ifbothof us come home covered in mud.”
“I have a fair idea of what she’d think.” He flashed her a roguish grin. “And she’d be right.”
Arabella shook her head at him but then turned, catching sight of something. Her body stiffened.
Gavin followed her gaze to a carriage parked at the top of Nan’s drive.
Arabella’s face had drained of color. Eyes distant, she jerked on the reins. Her grip was tight, but he could see that her hands were trembling.
It was her parents. It had to be.
Gavin was trembling himself, not with fear but with anger, watching the way their mere presence affected her. Hehad the instinctive urge to step in front of Arabella, to shield her from what was coming.
