The Highlander's English Bride (The Lairds Most Likely 6) - Page 84

Her smile faded, and she dared to voice what troubled her. "Hamish, will we be the same when we get back to civilization?"

He pulled his horse to

a stop and turned to face her. "My darling, it won’t be the same, but it will be just as good."

She reined her horse to a halt, too. "I know we can’t live like castaways on a desert island forever. You’re the laird, and you have responsibilities. But I fear in the real world, we’ll go back to being hostile strangers." Her voice broke. "I’d hate that."

Her time with Hamish had sparked so many discoveries, not least that now they set aside their defenses, they got along surprisingly well, and not just in bed. So well that Emily wondered why it had taken her so long to find out what excellent company he was.

He slid to the ground and walked back to her. "Are you really fretting about this, Emily?" Ahead, his mount ambled forward to nibble at some grass sprouting from a cranny.

She struggled to find the words to explain her disquiet. "This last week has been like something from a fairy story."

He grinned at her. "You must have read more exciting fairy stories than I did."

Emily didn’t smile. "You know what I mean."

His expression sobered. "Yes, I do. It’s felt like time out of mind."

He did understand. "Like we were whisked away to an enchanted kingdom."

To her surprise, he reached up and dragged her down into his arms for a long and passionate kiss that knocked her stylish hat to the ground. By the time he raised his head, she was trembling and breathless.

"Dear Lord above, what was that for?" she asked, unsure if her knees would hold her up.

He remained serious. "That was proof that we carry our enchanted kingdom with us. You and I create the magic. It’s nothing to do with where we are."

"Oh," she said, dazzled. "What a lovely thing to say."

He kissed her again, and this time he was smiling when he drew away. "Have faith, Emily. We’ve started our journey together, and it’s going to take us to marvelous places. There might be a few stumbles along the way, but that’s all part of the joy of travel."

"When did you become so wise?" She stared up at him in wonder. "I’ll swear in London the man I knew was a stubborn blockhead who needed a good thrashing."

"It must be something about Scotland, my love."

His love…

If only that was the case. But he’d already given her so much, it would be churlish to ask for more. "It must be," she said faintly.

Hamish smiled and kissed her again. "Anyway, you’ll like Lyon House."

***

Emily did like Lyon House. The large gray mansion with its tall casement windows was set on a rise overlooking a spectacular sea loch. Hamish told her that he kept a yacht tied up at the quay, and he promised to take her sailing to Mull and Iona and Skye.

Now, the morning after their arrival, her husband showed her around her new home. She’d toured the kitchens and met the staff. She’d heard more stories about Douglas exploits through the centuries than she could keep straight. She’d visited the morning room, two drawing rooms, and an imposing dining room. There had been a pretty little room full of delicate china – Hamish’s late grandmother had been an avid collector. They’d wandered through a large conservatory and a glittering ballroom.

But her favorite room downstairs was the well-stocked library with its walls of bookcases and views south across the loch and hills. Or at least she thought it was her favorite. She couldn’t be sure, because Hamish had kissed her there and she’d lost all interest in architecture or furnishings.

Upstairs were twelve bedrooms, including a suite for the clan chieftain and his wife. She’d slept there last night, in the clan chieftain’s huge four-poster bed, covered in carvings of the Douglas harp and sword emblem.

In truth, she’d done precious little actual sleeping. After the strenuous night, all this marching up and down stairs and along endless corridors made her feel like a nap.

"How are you holding up?" Hamish asked, as they followed yet another corridor.

They were holding hands like sweethearts. He’d touched her all morning, and each contact only made her heart yearn more desperately for his love.

"I had no idea you owned a house the size of Blenheim Palace."

Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical
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