“Twenty minutes’ difference,” he said after a beat. “Seems we’re finally getting the timing right between us.”
“The quip!” Her eyes danced with happiness.
Or maybe that was his own joy reflected back.
“Ah, God, Meghan,” he said, hoarsely. “My arms have been so empty without you. My days. My nights. I want them all with you. Marry me, please. And I will—”
“Yes.” She cut off the rest of the pretty speech he had planned and practiced.
“Well done, Culross.” Oleander applauded from above. “You should have seen the rubbish jests she’s been occupying herself with. Had her in tears, they did.”
Some of those tears freely fell—too many.
Culross tenderly dusted them away.
Meghan rubbed her cheek against his. “Your whiskers are back.”
“It is not because of the cold.”
“It is cold though,” she pointed out.
His lips twitched.
Meghan’s brow pulled. “Your mouth.” Her lips quivered. “Your beautiful mouth.”
Yes, it was still a sight. “What of my nose?”
“Also beautiful, you arrogant man,” Meghan murmured, and then brushed a kiss upon the organ.
“You did not ask what I was busy with.”
Meghan scowled. “No, because if it did not involve you whisking me away and loving me for the rest of our days, then it was not important enough for you to stay away.”
He thought about that. “Fair enough.”
The fact remained, however, the McQuoids had to be dealt with.
“Culross!”
Bracing his shoulders, Culross dragged Meghan closer. “McQuoids-Smiths.” He looked to the audience of brothers, cousins, sisters, and he was sure he was missing some, but there were so many. “I am marrying Meghan because I love her, and that is what she wants. And if she wants me to pave England in gold, I am going to do it for her.”
That shut the McQuoids up.
Only for a moment.
“Plus, there is the matter that I, as her brother, have granted permission,” Oleander said.
“Also,” Andromena shouted from her place at the window, “why would Meghan want England paved in gold and not Scotland?”
Oh, hell. “She would want both.”
That appeased the young ladies overhead.
Not Meghan. “I don’t want gold, August,” Meghan said, her voice catching. “I only want you.”
“Culross.” Mr. Campbell Smith spoke as the head of Meghan’s family. “I accept your offer.”
“Sorry, Camp, I already saw to it.” Oleander thumped his brother on the shoulders.
