Lilia leaned forward with a shy smile and held out her hands. “I missed you,” she whispered.
He gathered her up into his arms, senses reeling at the incrediblyalivewarmth of her and the strong healthy beat of her heart against his. Her soft laugh as he squeezed her tighter assured him that his love truly lived. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, closing his eyes and nuzzling into the fragrant silkiness of her hair. “Lore a’mighty, I never thought to hear yer voice ever again.”
“I missed you,” Lilia repeated, clutching him tighter as though she feared he would slip away.
Graham drew back and stared deep into her eyes, struggling to give his heart a voice, searching for a way to let his soul speak. “I would have ye know the depths of my love for ye—” The words stalled out. His mind, body, heart, and soul risked exploding with the turmoil of his emotions. “Mere words canna tell ye how I feel at this verra moment—now that I hold ye safe once more.” He brushed a reverent kiss across her lips then pressed his forehead to hers. “My love for ye is too great to be measured—or named.”
She tilted her head and gifted him with a long slow kiss then eased back, hooked her arms around his neck, and smiled up at him, pure joy shining in her eyes. “And I love you more.”
He rose to his feet, never looking away from the most beautiful green eyes he’d feared he would never look into again. He lowered her to her feet, then took her hands in his and held them tight. He’d come to a decision. It was time to make it so. “We must return to the future—as soon as ye’ve visited with yer family for a bit. We belong there—not here—in this time.”
Lilia stole a quick glance over at Granny and the girls, then faced Graham once again, confusion shadowing her face. “I’d already decided we would stay here permanently if you wanted. I thought you’d be happier here.” Her voice grew softer and she shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why would you want to return to the future and stay?”
“I will not risk losing ye again.” Graham cupped her cheek in his hand, his fingertips laced into her hair. “This place . . . this time . . . it is too filled with danger. I’ve learned my lesson. I canna protect ye here. I canna keep ye safe.”
She squeezed his hands, her brow creasing with an apologetic look as though she wished she didn’t have to say what she was about to say. “All times have danger, Graham. No century is free of risks. You know that—right?”
“The future doesna have the raw danger of this place.” He looked to Mother Sinclair. The matriarch encouraged him with a sad smile and the barest dip of her chin.
He brought Lilia’s fingers to his lips and gently kissed them. Tucking her hands to his chest, he rubbed his thumbs back and forth across her knuckles. “Mother Sinclair has warned me of the heartache and pain this time has a comin’. Ye dinna belong here, Lilia. Ye couldna bear it, ye ken that as well as I. We will return to yer Edinburgh. And yer odd friends.” He squeezed both her hands and smiled. “Our bairns will fare much better in the future, as well.”
“Bairns?” The love sparkling in her eyes made his heart sing. Lore a’mighty, how had he ever lived without this woman?
“Aye.” Graham nodded, assuming as serious a tone as he could muster. “Many children. Ye said Eliza’s house was entirely too quiet. I’m thinking we could change that.”
“I did say that.” Lilia grinned, snuggling tighter into his arms. A soft low chortle escaped her as she reached up and pulled his face down to hers. “Somehow I think home will never be quiet again with you around.” She brushed his mouth with a tender claiming kiss. Molding her mouthwatering curves against him, she playfully licked the tip of his nose. “And I’m going to love every loud minute of it.”
EPILOGUE
A little over two years later . . .
Scotland: Mid-thirteenth century
Awarning squawk, irritated and shrill, alerted Lilia to her eight-month-old daughter’s impending tantrum. She quickly broke off her conversation with Trulie, glancing around the garden for who currently had her child and what might be displeasing the fiery-tempered little diva.
Eliza Catriona, fondly dubbed Izzy-Cat by Auntie Vivienne back in twenty-first-century Edinburgh, had entered this world with a head full of flaming red curls and a disposition to match. In the child’s uncompromising, eight-month-old opinion, there was but one person who could do no wrong and that individual was her father.
“What ails ye, wee one?” Coira asked, balancing the fussy little redhead atop the rounded shelf of her pregnant belly. Coira’s husband of six months, Clan MacKenna’s new head stable master, Liam, stood beside her, glancing back and forth between red-faced little Catriona and the mound of his unborn child with anOh hell nolook on his face. Ever-patient Coira just smiled and bounced the babe back and forth, attempting to calm her with a lilting song and jiggle.
“Nap time maybe?” Trulie asked, holding newborn son, Ian, in the crook of one arm while also keeping a firm hold on four-year-old son Rabbie’s hand.
If only it were that simple.Lilia hurried over to Coira, motioning at Graham, who had just pushed through the low swinging gate leading in from the main bailey. Graham grinned from ear to ear, visibly lengthening his stride to double-time it across the garden to his wife.
“She spotted you. I told you to lay low so someone else could hold her for a while.” Lilia totally failed at maintaining the scolding tone. How could she chide him? Graham adored his daughter even more than his daughter worshiped him.
Catriona’s wail hit a particularly jarring note as Lilia lifted her out of Coira’s arms. “I’m so sorry but she’s spotted her daddy again. When he’s around, she has a fit if anyone else is holding her.”
As soon as Graham took hold of squirming Catriona, the wily minx split the air with a delighted squeal, filled both chubby hands with her father’s beard and yanked in perfect rhythm with her tiny white-socked feet kicking the lace ruffles of her best dress.
“There’s my wee lass. There’s my sweetest Catriona-rose.” Graham winked at Lilia and Coira, beaming proudly as he took his daughter to sit with seven-year-old Chloe and her owl, Oren.
Kenna walked up with one-year-old Fiona on her hip, her shy blue-eyed daughter chewing on her thumb while she frowned down at her rowdy, four-year-old twin brothers, Caeden and Jamie, who were currently running circles around their mother. Kenna snapped her fingers and pointed the boys over to the bench with Graham, Chloe, and little Catriona. “Take Rabbie and go visit with Catriona. She’s going back home in a few hours.”
“But she’s a girl, Mama—and jus’ a wee bairn,” Caeden complained. “Aye,” Jamie chimed in with a bob of his tousled head. “Auntie Lil shouldha brought her puppy and left that wee banshee at home. She is too loud.”
“Get over there and be civilized before I heat up your backsides.” Kenna took a threatening step toward them. All three boys scurried away at survival speed. Kenna rolled her eyes and shook her head at Lilia. “I am so sorry.”
Lilia laughed and waved away Kenna’s apology as Mairi joined them and sent her three-year-old son, Sawny, over to play with the older children. Ronan, Colum, Gray, and Coira’s husband, Liam, joined Graham to help keep the lively herd in line.
