Page 17 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

"Lass, ye're about tae fall asleep sittin' up. Either lean back or I'm goin' tae tie ye tae the saddle."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

She heard the smile in his voice and felt an answering pull at her own lips. Against her better judgment, she let herself lean back slightly. Just enough to take the strain off her back. Just enough to feel the solid warmth of him behind her.

"There," he said softly. "That wasnae so terrible, was it?"

It wasn't terrible at all. That was the problem.

"David!" Tristan's voice cut through the comfortable quiet. "There's a chapel ahead. Just off the road."

Elinor felt David shift behind her, sitting up straighter. "Where?"

"Through those trees. See the spire?"

She followed Tristan's pointing finger and saw it, a small stone chapel, its cross catching the last of the daylight.

"It'll dae," David said.

"Do for what?" Elinor asked, though she had a sinking suspicion she already knew.

David's arms tightened around her as he urged the horse toward the chapel. His voice, when it came, was quiet but implacable.

"Fer a weddin', lass. What else?"