Page 27 of Wed to the Highlander
He leaned down for another kiss, stopping a breath away. “But they’re no’ half as shameless, or excitin’, as tumbling you in a field of wildflowers.”
His lips brushed hers, voice thick with emotion. “I love you, Maggie. And I always will.”
She stared up at him, lips trembling. She’d dreamed of hearing those words from him, and now she dared to believe. Primrose and narcissus would remind her of this moment.
“Oh, Duncan, I—”
Loud squawking and a sudden flurry of wings stopped her words as at least a dozen blackbirds burst from a nearby grove of aspen. Duncan stood, scanning the meadow and the tree line beyond.
“What is it?” Maggie asked, tugging her navy riding habit back into place.
“Nothing I can see.”
Her heart thudded. “What if someone was watching?”
Duncan’s jaw clenched. “No one has business out here.”
He finished dressing quickly and helped her do the same. As they mounted up, he gave the woods one final look, his expression unreadable.
Maggie glared at the grove, too, as annoyed as she was disappointed. She would have declared her love as he did with her if the screeching birds—or whatever had disturbed them—hadn’t stolen her moment and ruined her near perfect day.
***
The ride back was quiet—not strained but reflective. The sky had shifted to silver behind the hills; darker clouds gathering over the distant peaks. A cool wind swept down the glen, carrying the same sweetness as the flowers she held in her lap.
When they reached the courtyard, Duncan dismounted and came around to help her down.
“You haven’t said anything since we left the clearing,” he said as her boots touched the stone.
She looked up. “Neither have you. I’m unable to shake the feeling we were intruded upon.”
“It was likely a squirrel, but it startled you.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “I did nae like that.”
Despite her unease, his touch warmed her, causing a fluttering low in her belly. She nuzzled her face into his hand as she leaned in to him.
Thunder rolled in the distance.
“We should get inside.” He tossed the reins to a waiting stable hand and whisked her inside as the first drops of rain fell.
Staff were lighting sconces and building up the fire in the great hall when they rushed inside in a rush of blowing wind, already damp and chilled.
Her grip on the wildflowers she still held tightened as they climbed the stairs to their chamber.
Duncan pushed the door open and let her enter first. Their room was cold, the fire nearly out, and she shivered.
He mistook it for something else. “No one could have followed us that far. Not without my knowing.”
“I’m chilled. The weather changed so quickly.”
“Aye. It’s still March.” He crossed to the hearth and stirred the embers, adding peat and logs. His movements were jerky instead of fluid and graceful, speaking to his agitation.
“I’m being foolish—and paranoid.”
He replaced the poker and returned to her, cupping her cheek. “You’re not foolish, lass. It was a private moment worth guarding. We’ll be more careful next time.”
She knew he meant it to reassure, but the words felt hollow. More careful. As if joy and passion required permission now.
When she shivered again, he pulled her damp cloak from her shoulders and swept a plaid from the bed. Once he had her bundled in it, he offered, “A wee dram of whiskey? It will warm your blood.”
