A forest of female hands shot up, accompanied by cries of “Me! Me! Me!”
Emilia had abandoned her translation duties for a moment to join the throng. Her hand was not in the air like the others. She was just smiling at him and looking directly into his blue eyes.
Adam walked around inspecting all the giggling women till he came to Emilia. He pulled her into his arms, kissed her, then smacked his lips experimentally.
“This one seems fine,” he declared, smiling into her eyes. “I will take her.”
There was a moan of disappointment from all the other women.
“Thank you, M’Laird,” she smiled. “I promise to be a good wife.”
“Now that I am betrothed to this lady, can I be your Laird?” he begged.
“Aye!” came the jubilant chorus.
The next few hours were magical, as Adam moved amongst his people, shaking hands and receiving their thanks. His sore arm was forgotten as he basked in the love and gratitude of the people who were now his.
When the last hand had been shaken and the last bow made, Adam turned to Emilia and sighed with satisfaction.
“Let us go to my house,” she said firmly. “We need to see to your arm, and Mammy can make some haggis tonight. She has had it for two days so we cannot keep it any longer, and I know you will find a place to put it!”
Adam suddenly realized that he was ravenously hungry, and longing for the haggis, which he loved. His mouth watered all the way to Emilia’s house.
Agnes was already cooking and supper was almost ready, while keeping a close eye on Mara, who was helping by stirring a pot of gravy. The little girl’s eyes lit up and she squealed when she saw Adam, and he was obliged to pick her up before she knocked the vessel over.
She assisted Emilia with the dressing of Adam’s arm by holding the bowl of warm water, and then she kissed him better and gave him a hug. Then he had to tuck her into bed and lie with her while she went to sleep.
“Are you my paw now?” Mara asked Adam sleepily. Emilia translated, and Adam nodded. Mara smiled and closed her eyes.
Agnes had gone to bed, so they lay on Emilia’s bed wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing lazily and laughing softly.
“You will have to marry me now,” Adam murmured.
“Why?” she asked, smiling.
“Because I cannot be a laird otherwise,” he replied. “I will not be Scottish enough.”
Emilia looked into his mischievous blue eyes.
“M’Laird, you are becoming more and more Scottish by the minute!” she laughed.
“I must go back now,” he said regretfully.
“Stay,” Emilia said, and the word was almost a command. “No one will care.”
He laughed softly. “You have talked me into it,” he said at once, and closed his eyes, smiling.
Adam woke up the next morning with a warm feeling of wellbeing, then realized why. He was in Emilia’s bed, and she was lying against him, her hair draped over his shoulder. He was still fully dressed and so was she. In the dawn light, sleeping so peacefully, she looked younger and more vulnerable, and a wave of tenderness washed over him. He wanted nothing more than to love her for the rest of his life.
She woke up slowly and smiled at him. “Good morning,” she said drowsily.
“Good morning to you too,” he replied. “I think I should go before your mother sees me. I know you said she would not mind, but I am not willing to take the chance. What if she kills me in front of Mara?”
Emilia smiled. “She would never do that. She might hit you with a skillet, though! You had best go.”
He laughed and kissed her softly, then crept noiselessly outside, pausing only to blow her a kiss.
Emilia went to get herself some ale, but when she turned around Agnes was standing, hands on hips, glaring at her.
