“It’s exactly what I needed … my old ways brought me little joy in the end. It’s a relief to leave it all behind.” He slid his hand across the stone, covering hers. Heat flared low in her belly. He’d taken her twice more during the night. She ached in places she hadn’t known existed—and didn’t care.
“I wanted to bring ye here this morning … it felt right,” he said, holding her gaze. “But there’s an important matter we must attend to.”
She tilted her head. “Have I forgotten something?”
“I promised to make ye my wife. I will not delay.”
A grin split her face. “And how do ye propose to do that? There isn’t a priest for miles.” Her eyes widened then. “God’s teeth. Ye don’t mean to ask yer father to wed us?”
He laughed. “No. We’ll travel to the Dounarwyse kirk. The priest there is a friend. He’ll wed us at once. I’ll ask Diarmaid and Eithne to join us, as witnesses.”
Excitement fluttered beneath her ribs. “Today?” she breathed.
“Today,” he said firmly.
Stepping back from the stone, he took her hand in his and squeezed. “Come, lass. Let’s tell our friends the happy news.”
EPILOGUE: YE HAVE YER WISH
THE STABLE ROOF had torn half away in the night.
Ailean stood on a ladder, hammer clenched in his hand, staring at the ragged gap where the wind had ripped through the thatch. One of the beams had fallen too. Cold air knifed in. The horses stamped and snorted below the pale sky, uneasy.
“Satan take winter,” he muttered.
“They’re here!”
He twisted to see Fiona racing across the courtyard, skirts gathered, cheeks bright with cold. She pointed to where three horses had just entered the southern edge of the cobbled space.
Ailean barked a laugh, his irritation at the ruined roof forgotten. “Of course, they are.”
He’d missed his friends of late and could have done with their help with rebuilding the tower. However, pride hadn’t let him inform either Craeg or Greig about his change in circumstances until recently. And when he’d finally sent missives, he’d invited them both for Yule.
Craeg waved as they approached, grinning. Hazel rode bundled in wool beside him; her cheeks were pink with cold, her smile warm. Greig followed, shoulders locked against the wind.
They drew up before the wrecked stable.
Craeg took one look and snorted. “What happened here?”
“Last night’s storm,” Ailean called down. “Ye’ve arrived just in time to lend a hand.” He paused then. “But first, let me introduce ye all to my lovely wife, Fiona.”
He marked the way her cheeks flushed at the introduction. She’d been nervous about this meeting. She wanted his friends to like her.
“Well met, Fiona,” Craeg said warmly.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet ye,” Hazel added.
The two women held each other’s gaze, and Ailean knew at once they understood one another. They would get along. Both practical, both grounded. Two women who’d defied convention for love.
Meanwhile, Greig swung down from his saddle with a heavy thud. He then grimaced. “Greetings, Fiona,” he said roughly before his gaze flicked up to where Ailean still perched on the ladder. He shook his head. “I don’t believe it … we ride half of Mull and get pressed into labor. What sort of welcome is this?”
Ailean eyed him. “Do ye want wet and cold horses tonight?”
Muttering an oath under his breath, Greig limped over to the beam lying on the newly laid cobbles. His gait was uneven, his jaw flexing with every step. He was in pain, yet doggedly pushed on. “Come on then … let me help ye with this.”
Within moments, the courtyard burst into motion. Craeg hauled fallen rafters aside. Ailean and Greig lifted new supports into place. Fiona and Hazel gathered scattered thatch, sorting salvageable bundles.
The wind bit hard, but sweat soon warmed them. And although the damage had vexed him earlier, Ailean found himself smiling as he worked. Aye, he’d done the right thing in inviting his friends here.
