Page 77 of The Outlaw's Bride
He glanced away. “I destroyed something in ye, Adaira. I’ll always be sorry for that.”
“No, ye didn’t,” she replied, reaching out a hand and placing it on his arm. “Ye forged me.”
He looked up, surprised. “What?”
“I was a bit helpless before we met. I’d never have escaped Dunvegan if it weren’t for Rhona and Taran. Ye forced me to see the world as it really is. Ye made me strong, like a tempered blade.”
His mouth compressed. “Aye, but it was a high price to pay, Aingeal.”
“A price we both paid,” she said softly, holding his gaze. “We gave up different things, but in the end it was the making of us.”
Lachlann inhaled slowly, his moss-green eyes darkening. “Ye are my north star, Adaira. Every time I look at ye, I’m reminded of what really matters.”
Their gazes held for a long moment, before Adaira smiled. “Aye, that’s why I wanted us to come here today. I never see my husband.”
He gave her an arch look. “The Lady of Duntulm likes to keep me busy. I shoed half the horses in her stable yesterday. She wants me to do the other half tomorrow.”
Adaira laughed before leaning back and retrieving a cloth wrapped parcel from the basket. “I think that’s why she let me bring these.” She pulled back the cloth to reveal a pile of pork and egg pies.
A smile spread over Lachlann’s face. “Like I said before—she’s a generous lass.”
Seated on the banks of the burn, they ate their meal and shared the bottle of cider. The day had started off unseasonably warm, but it grew chiller as the afternoon wore on. A wind sprang up, driving in from the north, and to Adaira’s chagrin she noted the dark clouds Lachlann had spied on the way here were now looming close.
Presently, fat drops of rain started to patter across the ground.
Adaira, who’d been lying on her side next to her husband, sat up and cursed.
“What did I tell ye?” he said smugly.
“No one likes a ‘know-it-all’,” she replied tartly. “Come on, help me pack up.”
They’d just cleared away the remnants of their meal and were rolling up the blanket, when the heavens opened. Heavy sheets of rain sluiced across the hillside, battering them.
“We’re going to get soaked,” Adaira cried, clutching the basket to her.
“Come on.” Lachlann took hold of her arm and steered her toward the trees. “Let’s see if we can find shelter in the woods.”
They dove for the tree line, ducking their heads under the pelting rain. Inside the woods they found a spreading oak to hide under. The tree had lost half its leaves, but it still provided some shelter. Shaking the rain from her hair, Adaira glanced over at Lachlann to find him grinning at her. “Don’t say a word,” she growled. “Ye insufferable man.”
Lachlann’s grin turned wicked. “Insufferable, am I?”
“Aye, ye love to be proved right.”
He laughed and grabbed hold of Adaira, catching her so suddenly that she squealed and dropped her basket. Then, he pressed her up against the tree trunk and kissed her breathless. Around them the rain drummed down and thunder rumbled overhead.
Eventually, tearing his mouth from hers, Lachlann trailed a burning line down her neck. “I took ye for the first time against an old oak like this one,” he murmured, his voice husky.
Adaira sighed, arching her neck back to encourage his questing lips. She’d never forget that night. It had changed her life forever.
“Shall I take ye again?” Lachlann whispered. He ran his hands down her back and rucked up her damp skirts. “Here in the rain?”
Adaira’s breathing hitched, fire surging through her veins. “Aye,” she breathed.
Lachlann raised his head from her. “I didn’t hear ye, wife.” His hand slid up the bare skin of her thigh. “Do ye want me to stop?”
“No,” she gasped. She tangled her fingers through his wet hair, pushing his face back down to her exposed neck. “But ye can cease talking now.”
Epilogue
