The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,88
you see the good in all that surrounds you.”
She smiled, her finger lightly tracing the foxglove petals. Of course she distinguished them from the others.
“The corn marigold reminded me of how beautiful you look in yellow, for there is no other color that brings out your radiance.”
Her eyebrows arched with her giggle. “Yellow,” she whispered.
Oh, how he loved her expressions. “And the daisies are happy as are you, both inside and out, and their petals resemble the velvet of your skin.”
She hid her nose in the bouquet. “Och, mayhap you’ve exaggerated a wee bit.”
“Nay.” He kissed her forehead. “For no flowers or words can express how deeply my love runs for you.”
“Oh, Ciar, I’ve been praying you’d say those words.”
“Every time they came to my lips, I bit them back. But now that I’ve cleared my name, I am free to shout how much I adore you from every peak in the Highlands.”
Her fingers brushed his chest and meandered up to his lips, and he smiled broadly to show her the happiness in his heart. “I think just whispering in my ear will suffice.”
Pulling her into his arms, he pressed his lips to the delicate appendage. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
“And I return your love with all my heart.”
“I cannot believe I am banned from seeing you until the wedding.”
“Robert is being unbearable. We’re hardly speaking.”
“I’m sorry for that.” Ciar led Emma to a bench. “He cares for you. He’s worried that I will not be a worthy husband.”
Emma threw her shoulders back. “He’s wrong.”
“I ken. But I think brothers are even stubborner than parents when it comes to marrying off their sisters. I reckon that’s why he has dragged his feet and you’re not already wed.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Which, might I say, is very good for me.”
“And me.” She drew his fingers to her lips and kissed him back. “And Albert.”
Ciar glanced over his shoulder. “Speaking of the dog, where is he?”
“I left him in my chamber. I didn’t want to risk having him bark or do something silly like go for a swim in the river and chase ducks. He’d alert everyone in the shire, much less Moriston Hall.”
“And Betty?”
“She’s waiting outside.”
Ciar draped his arm across Emma’s shoulders and nibbled her neck. “Then thank the stars I didn’t act on my desires and ravish you as soon as you stepped inside the bower.”
She arched her back with a quiet giggle. “I’m not certain I agree. After all, this is a place of magic.”
“Is it now?” he teased, moving his kisses to her earlobe.
“So said my great grandmama. She insisted the water in the pool at the bottom of the falls made women fertile. And she ought to know, because she birthed eleven children.”
“Eleven?”
“All healthy bairns, I might add.”
“Well, I do not think you and I will need magical water. Once we are wed, we will make magic of our own.”
“The vicar has agreed to our wedding date. Has anyone told you?”
“Me?” Ciar smoothed his fingers down her enchantingly straight spine. Unbelievable. Robert hadn’t managed to send word. “Who am I?”
She nudged him with her elbow. “The most important man, I’ll say. At the Invermoriston church ten o’clock on Monday, October first.”
“Must we wait that long?”
“We must if we want Robert to speak to us again. Otherwise, we can elope this very night.”
He brushed aside the auburn tresses and kissed her in the tingly spot at her jawline. “The idea has its merits.”
“Miss Emma,” Betty called from the archway. “’Tis time we start heading back, else you will be missed.”
Emma groaned. “Already?”
Ciar pulled her to her feet. “Time will pass quickly enough. Put your posy in water, and every time you see it, think of me.”
Only she would understand what he meant. She visualized everything through touch and saw so much more than everyone else.
After kissing his love goodbye, Ciar waited for a time, though the bower turned hollow and lonely without her.
Until Grant stepped inside. “Sneaking around my back, are you, Dunollie?”
Ciar’s gut clenched. He didn’t want a fight, but if it came to blows, he’d bloody well ensure he’d be the victor no matter what. “It seems the date for my wedding has been set, though you did not see fit to send me word.”
Robert relaxed his stance. “Ah, yes, my mistake. I should have sent a messenger this morn.”
Ciar dropped his hands to his sides. Grant admitted an error? Perhaps they might call a truce. “Forgive