This was her chance.
She could finally choose her fate.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
But as her eyes crestedover his tacky, mussed hair that fell in sodden strands around his shoulders and face, over the sharp edge of his jaw, his late-day beard, his downcast eyes, and down to his panting chest that filled his tunic, to his MacDonald kilt.
It was the kilt that gave her pause, and everything it represented. Aye, it had been difficult between her and Reade. They each had past pain and heartache to overcome, and every time they had a slip or a misunderstanding, Reade came to her first, was contrite first, and made absolution for any harm he might have caused her. For all his failings, he worked for her, fought for her, now even killed for her.
And so did his family. They fought for her when they could have thrown her to the Campbells and let her fate follow that of her late husband. Instead, Sorcha had taken her under her wing and Adaira had befriended her. Her conflict was more than merely her feelings for Reade; it included how she felt for his entire family, his kin, and clan.
Her heart pounded under her breast. Howdidshe feel about Reade? Would he have given her that same option if he knew she carried his babe? Her hand drifted to her stomach, resting on the unseen life growing inside her.
A life that she could gift to this family.
Raise him to smile as easily as Adaira, have a force of a woman who cared for him in Sorcha, to have the power of Laird Seamus MacDonald as his grandfather.
And to have a father who understands loyalty and family, and how to take responsibility and apologize and make amends when he was wrong.
To have a father that she loved.
Her fate was in her hands, and she grabbed it.
Rather than taking the sword from his hand, she raised her hand and placed it on Reade’s mangy hair.
“I am free,” she said in a wavering voice. “I am free to choose the path of my life, and I choose ye, Reade. I choose ye and this life ye have gifted me.”
Reade’s hand dropped the sword and slid around her hips, clasping her backside and pressing her stomach against his forehead. ‘Twas as if the woods, the Highlands, the world itself expressed a collective sigh along with Reade, who shuddered as he embraced her.
They remained like that for the space of several heartbeats, with only the sound of the MacDonald men slipping away to give them privacy.
“Ye dinna have to.” His voice was muffled in her dirty skirts. “Ye have the choice to leave now.”
Blair slid her hand down his face, over his scruffy beard, and cupped his chin. She lifted his eyes to hers, his watery hazel-green gaze that was like a dark loch shadowed in the setting sun searched her face. Then she bent so her lips met his, sealing her decision with a kiss. At first light, a gentle caress of lips, then Reade’s arms tightened, crushing her against him and ravaging her lips, as if by claiming her lips, he would claim her.
But it was too late. He didn’t know he had already claimed her — mind, body, and heart.
