Page 84 of A Virgin for the Icy Highlander
Grace chuckled. “Yes, certainly.”
“Then hurry, before Father realizes he has an aversion to apologies,” Marianne urged while flashing a wink. “And don’t you dare get married before I get there, once we have… cleaned up this mess.”
With a sly smile, Hunter swept Grace up into his arms and carried her out to the waiting carriage.
This carriage was supposed to take her to her wedding to Lord Huston, but was now commandeered to take her back to where she truly belonged: with Hunter, in Scotland, as far from London as she could get.
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Hunter gazed out the carriage window, absently stroking Grace’s hair as she dozed in his arms. They had been traveling for a long time, and though he kept trying to insist that they pause somewhere for the night, Grace had demanded they continue, as she was eager to be back at Castle MacLogan.
But as he glimpsed the most beautiful sight—the gleam of the moon, reflecting off the sea—he decided that she would just have to show some patience. If almost losing her had taught him anything, it was that the good things were not to be ignored, and there was nothing so wonderful as being able to bring a smile to her face.
“Wake up,” he said softly, shaking her a little.
She stirred, blinking up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’ at all.” He smiled and thumped his fist against the carriage wall, instructing the driver to halt. “Come on, love. We’ve arrived.”
She rubbed her eyes. “At the castle? How long have I been asleep?”
“Nay, love. Nae the castle.” He opened the carriage door, picked her up, and carried her out into the cold night.
It was not the most obvious time to visit the beach in the dark, but he knew of a few ways to keep her warm. And the night was so clear and beautiful, the sky ablaze with constellations like silver poured across black velvet, that it wasn’t to be wasted.
Blankets. I’ll need blankets.
Carefully, he set her down on her feet and dashed back to the carriage, gathering what he needed so that his romantic efforts wouldn’t end up with his bride as a block of ice.
“Whatareyou doing?” Grace asked when he returned. “You’re as giddy as a babe getting his first toy.”
He slipped his hand into hers and led her across an expanse of swaying grass toward the sea. “Aye, so what? This is a night for celebration, like the night we met. It’s nae every day ye get yer wife back, when ye thought ye’d lost her for good.”
“Bride,” she corrected. “I’m not your wife yet.”
“Aye, ye are.” He peered down at her. “The second ye accepted me proposal, ye became me wife. Do ye nae ken that Scottish tradition?”
She laughed softly. “How could I, when it’s clearly made-up?”
“I resent that accusation,” he remarked with a smirk, giving her hand a squeeze.
Before long, they came to where the stretch of grass met the undulation of sand dunes. Grace gripped his hand tighter as they navigated the difficult terrain, weaving through the dunes, avoiding the spiny shrubs that rustled there, climbing up and over a few more dunes until they came to a steep slope that led down to the beach.
“How do we get down there?” Grace asked. She was breathless and flushed.
Hunter took a breath. “We run.”
“What?”
Before she could protest, he took off down the steep dune, pulling her with him. Her scream of delight echoed through the still night as she half-ran, half-stumbled, half-flew down with him. Exhilaration coursed through his veins as they finally reached the flat sand below.
Panting, he gazed out at the twinkling sea. Hunter took a moment to just stand in the majesty of the world, with the woman he loved at his side. He was grateful beyond belief that he hadn’t arrived too late to win her back.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, leaning into his side.
He put his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Aye, it is.”
A glorious fire of driftwood crackled and sparked, casting an amber glow on Grace’s face as she watched Hunter add more wood to the blaze. The heat radiated as hot as the sun, fending off the cold of the winter night, not allowing a single shiver to wrack her body.
