I see them out as quickly as is polite, and take the stairs back up to the bedroom, two at a time. “I know there’s a long line of family waiting to be called for their time with ye, my bride. But I canna take one more fecking visitor.”
Grinning, she scoots over, patting the bed invitingly. “What do ye think about turning off our phones and pretending there’s no outside world for a while? No murderous cartels. No family - though they are very nice! No clan business, aye?”
“That is an excellent plan, my bride.” I pull her onto my lap, resting my chin on her hair, sweet with the scent of jasmine from her shampoo and thankfully, only the barest lingering traces of hospital disinfectant.
“Wait.” She holds up her phone. “What does this mean?”
It’s from Sloan.
I feel that it’s my duty as your sister-in-law to warn you that once you’re up and about, The Lady Elspeth will be charging down from Edinburgh to plan your huge wedding at the MacTavish Estate. Rest up. Carbo-load. It’s a lot to handle. I mean, A LOT.
“What is this?” The blood drains from Bella’s face, leaving her sheet-white. “What is going to happen?”
Rubbing my eyes, I groan. “Ah, feck. The wedding. She’s still holding it against me that the family priest didn’t marry us the first time.”
“I dinnae know if I’m ready for the full MacTavish experience!” She’s trying to scoot away from me and I grab her ankle, pulling her back.
“I’m gonna take ye away from here. I dinnae give ye a proper honeymoon, and now’s the time. I will tell my grandmother that there is no planning to be done until we’re back and ye are ready. This means I will be the first male in my family to stand up to The Lady Elspeth and it is possible I will not survive the encounter. But itwillbe done. Pick a place that you’ve always wanted to see, and I’m taking ye there.”
“Oh. I like that.” She sighs in relief. “There’s only one absolute requirement that I have, so ye can pick with that in mind.”
“Aye, of course, love.”
So serious, my wife, fixing me with a firm glare. “Nowhere near an ocean. Not even close. In fact, not even a lake or a river. The desert. The desert sounds good. How much trouble can we get into in the desert?”
We both laugh, holding each other and feeling the bloody remnants of the last few weeks fade away.
She’s right, though. No fecking ocean.
Epilogue
In which Arabella and Logan create more sounds for her treasure box.
Logan…
“We’ve checked off Tibetan Prayer Hour with the Buddhist monks at the Drepung Monastery. What’s next?”
“I will never forget that moment.” Bella lights up when she brings out her sound memories, like they spark a flame inside her.
Our honeymoon has turned into an extended vacation and no one had a word to say about it after I spoke with my grandmother. It was a conversation I will never forget, no matter how hard I try.
Oddly, Bella wanted to hear the low buzz of the needle as a tattoo artist in Bangladesh added two more marks to the side of my hand, and “Arabella” in script on the left side of my neck. She put her head on my chest, listening with a blissful grin as the amused artist winked at me.
We sat on the sand at Praia do Norte Beach inNazaré, Portugal to hear the sound of some of the biggest and most powerful waves in the world. Bella’s lips were blue from the wind and spray, but she refused to leave until she was sure she had the sound set deep in her treasure box.
“This might surprise ye, but the next sound I want to put in the box is back in Glasgow.”
“Really?”
She’s smiling at me and it’s hard to decipher, a bit shy, a touch of mischief. “Aye. I canna tell ye until we go home.”
Back in Glasgow…
We’re sitting in the bell tower and it’s mid-morning. It’s a rare day of bright sun and the light of it on my bride’s face is beautiful. She’s piled up all the pillows from our bedroom and from the other guest rooms as well, making a fluffy mountain of them in the middle of the tower.
She’s wearing my favorite tiny pink nightie and a sultry expression, lounging on her pillow throne. “Are ye ready to hear what sound I want?”
Reaching behind my neck, I pull off my shirt. “I have a feeling I’m gonna be naked for this one.”
