But now, realization flooded her.
“No, Mother,” she said, certainty gathering within her. “Marrying Gavin doesn’t mean I’m rejecting you. I amchoosinghim. Choosing the path that will bring me happiness. And if you reject me because of it, that would be your choice, not mine.”
A heavy weight, one she’d carried far too long, slid from Arabella’s shoulders. But it didn’t prevent the weepy feeling that was climbing up her throat. “You made your choice, Mother, as you had every right to do. But that doesn’t mean I have to make the same one.”
AS SOON AS Arabella’s mother left, Grandmother came straight up to her room.
Before Arabella could say a single word, Grandmother’s arms went around her, and she was encompassed in the warmest, fiercest hug the woman’s petite frame would allow. Arabella sobbed, her body shaking with a rush of emotion. And once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop, as if the reality that it was over, her decision made, was finally catching up with her.
Grandmother led her to the bed, arms still around her, as she continued to cry. They were not tears of regret, but rather an exclamation point that marked the end of her parents’ control and the beginning of Arabella’s self-determination. It took a long while before she’d cried herself out. When she’d finished, streaked tears drying on her face, Grandmother urged her to lie down, placing a pillow beneath her head and rubbing circles on her back while Arabella fell into a deep sleep.
When she woke, it was nearly nine o’clock. Her skin, still caked with dirt, felt dry and cracked. Her throat was parched. Grandmother called for a bath and a dinner tray, tending to Arabella herself. She was slow and thorough as she washed Arabella’s hair, her ministrations gentle.
Molly was long gone, insisting she be allowed toaccompany Mrs. Hughes back to England, and Arabella hadn’t voiced a single protest. Indeed, she felt a quiet sort of satisfaction at the thought of her mother being subjected to Molly’s incessant whining on the long journey back to London.
After she’d bathed and eaten, Arabella had desperately wanted to ride over to Gavin’s, knowing he was probably frantic with worry. But it was long past dark and far too late.
And Grandmother had a better idea.
They sent off a brief note, making the necessary arrangements for the next morning.
Arabella rose at five. She took special care with her appearance, wearing a sky-blue gown that would bring out the color of her eyes and arranging her hair in a loose chignon.
And then, shawl draped about her shoulders, she walked outside, drinking in the vista as the first rays of sun broke over the mountains. How different it felt now than when she’d first arrived, still heart-wrenchingly beautiful, still wreathed in an ethereal mist, but now the sight was familiar. Now it felt like home.
She kept a brisk pace up and over the hill toward Gavin’s home. It was there she met Rory, dressed in full Highland attire, all ready to play. She nodded for him to begin.
Seven minutes later, no doubt following the awful sounds of Rory’s bagpipes, Gavin emerged from his house. At the sight of him, Arabella’s heart skipped a beat as if racing forward to meet him. This time,hewas the one rumpled and half-dressed, purple shadows beneath his eyes. Had he not slept at all?
She waited, leaning back against the wall of the house, arms crossed over her chest.
He turned and their gazes met. His steps were measured as he approached her, as if he somehow thought this might be a dream.
When he stopped three feet in front of her, her face broke into a grin. “Do ye enjoy the bagpipes, Mr. McKenzie?”
There was a single heartbeat before he was sweeping her into his arms, pressing her so close that not a whisper of a Highland breeze could fit between them. “Ye stayed,” he whispered against her hair.
“I stayed,” she laughed, face pressed into the hollow of his neck. But then she pulled back a little, wanting to meet his gaze, wanting him to feel the truth behind her words. “Because I love you, Gavin Alexander McKenzie. And I cannot imagine my life without you.”
He pressed a kiss to her brow, his arms tightening around her. “Nor I without ye.”
They held each other for a long moment before a note of teasing crept into her voice as she asked, “But are you sure you want to marry me, Gavin? I’m stubborn. And hardheaded.”
He touched his forehead to hers. “Am I not just as stubborn? Just as hardheaded?”
“I’m a horse thief,” she reminded him.
His breath became hers. “All my horses are yours, Arabella Hughes.”
“And I’m prone to throwing things,” she warned. “Rocks. Mud.”
“Insults,” he continued for her, eyes laughing. “Yes, my darling, I ken. And I love ye all the same.”
And then, so there could be no question about who initiated it, Arabella went up on tiptoe, framed his face in her hands, and kissed him.
