She smiled. “Never happier in all my life.”
“And this is just the first day, love.” He wrapped his arm around her as they stood by one of the campfires, the music almost drowning out his words.
Her happiness seemed too good to be true.
He stepped away from her and gently took her hand in his again. He slowly led her away from the festivities toward their tent.
She wrapped her free hand around his arm as they walked, slowly, but with purpose. Her pulse thrummed and her mind twirled with all the things to come. She glanced up and he looked down at her, a smile on his lips.
They moved away from the warm fires and into the coolness of night. Neither one spoke as they climbed the hill toward their campsite. When they arrived, Arran started a small fire of their own. The shadows from the flames flickered on the canvas tents.
Eleanor simply watched Arran, savoring every move he made. His coat became tight as he bent and set the logs on the flames, his muscles rippling beneath the fabric.
When he turned and caught her admiring him, he only smiled and then motioned her to join him by the fire. “’Tis been a long and exciting day,” he said. “I thought we might sit for a minute and visit before we retire.”
She went willingly and sat beside him on an overturned log for that purpose, relieved for a bit of normalcy. The fire was warm, banishing the tremors she’d begun to experience at the thought of being alone with him for the first time.
He put his arm around her, pulling her close. “You dinna need to be scared of me.”
“I’m not scared,” she said, though it was a half-truth. She wasn’t scared, but she was very nervous.
He kissed her temple, his lips smiling against her skin. She was warm and complete beside him. And slowly, as they just sat there, her nerves began to fade. This was Arran MacLean, the man she had loved for four years. The man she’d written about in her journal more times than she could count. The man she had dreamt about every single day since the day she had met him.
There was no other place she’d rather be than here, beside him, as his wife.
“What will we do now that you and the others have returned?” she asked. “Will we go back to the Red River Valley?”
“Aye. For a time. Lord Selkirk plans to meet us there. We must take back Fort Douglas and restore the colony.”
“And will the de Meuron soldiers aid in this endeavor?”
“Aye.” He nodded, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “They will settle opposite Colony Gardens on the eastern side of the river.”
His touch was deliriously distracting, but she was able to ask, “And will they stay in Assiniboia?”
“That is the plan.”
“And when might we leave here to meet them in Assiniboia?”
“Within the week. My men will rest from our journey and then we must continue.”
“A week?”
“Aye.”
“And will you rest?”
He made a sound deep in his throat. “Not when you look so bonnie.”
A delicious shiver raced up her spine. “And will we stay in Assiniboia? Or will we go somewhere—”
He touched her chin and turned her face toward his. “We will go wherever you want to live. But we need to aid Selkirk in restoring the colony first. Does that suit you?”
She nodded.
Arran kissed her, slowly and deliberately, making her weak with longing.
“Do you still want to talk, lass?” His voice was low and gravelly, as if it took all his willpower to speak. He slowly moved aside the shawl she wore to reveal a bit of her bare arm. The day had been warm enough for the short sleeves, but the evening had become cool. When he touched her skin, gooseflesh arose, but she did not feel cold any longer. “Because we can stay by the fire as long as you like.”
