“The doctor has a few more tests. We’re on a wait list.”
“Let’s find her,” I said, “and tell her she’s moved up the waitlist. My pop?—”
“Wants to murdermyclan.” A rough laugh barked from his lips as we strolled down another corridor, glancing into stonewalled rooms.
“I’ll figure something out.”
He stopped mid-hall, runner rug stretching endlessly beyond him. “You’ve been a sister to her. Thank you.”
Alongwhile later, rolling green fields surrounded Lachlan and me. A farmhouse sat in the distance, and we passed a hobbit-like door tucked into a hill, searching for Jordyn. Eventually, we climbed a cliff overlooking Loch Ness. The water gleamed like a mirror, catching every blade of grass and patch of sky.
Lachlan’s phone rang. After a brief call, he hung up. “Jamie found his bride. She’s with Ava.”
“Who?” I frowned.
“Kieran’s wife. The only Irishman my father tolerates. Rumor is Ava can’t have kids, after—we believe she had a kid in the past. Anyway, anyone who asks risks a Glasgow smile. If they’re together, Jordyn won’t feel alone.” Lachlan scrubbed a hand over his face. “Hopefully, Ava helps. I saw fear in Jamie’s eyes. Haven’t seen it in years. Mam won’t survive if …”
I curled myself into his arms. “It will happen. The best doctors in the world will make it happen. Pop has always wantedto give them more than the money he stuck in her bridal bag. Jordyn deserves a baby.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead. “Are you marrying me tonight, Natasha?”
“Ye—” A pure light source captivated my periphery. Woah. I ran down the hill toward the dock. The sunset hit the lake at an angle that made me frame my hands together, imagining the shot.
That shot.
“Actually,”—I grinned, stepping onto the wood planks—“I’ll marry you tomorrow. At this exact time. Twenty-four hours.”
“No.” He strode over the wood, passing a rowboat that lazed in the water. “Marry me this second.”
Lachlan pulled me into his arms, pressing himself against me. “You can’t …” His voice lowered enough to caress like desire over my skin. “Can’t say no. Not to me.”
“But,”—I began in between kisses—“the sunset. My family … I’ll marry you tomorr?”
“I’ll marry you every day of your life, Natasha. Always be a grand affair. Always be me serving you, loving you, praising you …” He bit the flesh at the hollowest point of my throat. “Turning your every wish into my command. My condition?”
“No,” I purred, hardly coherent enough to string a simple word together. My legs locked around his waist, and he lowered me to the dock. “No conditions.”
The dock rocked gently underneath our weight, wood damp from the loch mist. Lachlan’s lips brushed mine, slow at first, then greedy. This gorgeous man couldn’t drink me in fast enough. His hands framed my face, rough and calloused, yet holding me like I was something fragile.
My pulse raced, skin hot under his touch. “You’re impossible.” The damp wood was beneath me as his weight pressed into me, heavy and delicious. My phone slipped from mypocket and clattered against the planks. Why did people wear clothes? Obstacles.
“Say yes, Natasha.” His hands moved in a leisurely pursuit over the hollowest point of my belly button.
Pure torture. Passion throbbed through me and fluttered my stomach. Why hadn’t I married this man the day we met? Speaking of twenty-four hours, we should’ve walked down the aisle the next day. I moaned against his mouth, tasting the love and the groan on his lips.
My fingers threaded through his tussled tresses. Not even thinking straight anymore, I murmured, “Our baby needs this hair.”
“Nae,” he whispered, “our bairn will have your beauty, your fire. Nothing else matters.”
“Yes, Lachlan, yes.” The dock creaked beneath us, the loch whispering against the shore. For a heartbeat, nothing existed but him—his mouth, his hands—the heat flooding between us. The surge of need. And the race between us to taste, caress, touch.
I popped the first button of his crinkled linen?—
Crack. A sound like a subdued crackle rent the air.
The sound snapped the world in half.
Lachlan’s body stiffened over mine.
