Fire Maidens Scotland (Billionaires & Bodyguards #6) - Anna Lowe Page 0,89
high as a mating bite, but it came awfully close.
“Oops,” she murmured, trying to get herself together.
Oops, Lachlan chuckled into her mind.
They backed apart, though their lips remained puckered for a few moments longer.
Holly blushed, leaning against Lachlan as her dad captured the moment in several hundred clicks of his camera. Then Holly glanced at Lachlan, and together, they looked up the hill.
“Ready?” Lachlan asked.
“Ready.” She lifted the hem of her white dress high enough to show the mud boots she’d worn underneath. Yes, mud boots, because they were about to detour to a very special place.
“Thank you, everyone,” Lachlan announced. “We’ll see you at the house soon.”
As planned, the guests filed down one path, while she and Lachlan headed up another. The reception for their modest wedding would take place at the house, but the two of them had a tribute to pay first. The bagpiper they’d brought in — Mrs. Killin’s nephew — played “Highland Cathedral,” and the sentimental notes followed them over the rugged landscape.
Lachlan hummed the lines as he and Holly set off. Beautiful prose about distant shores, soaring eagles, and bonnie Scotland.
Holly smiled and hummed along.
They climbed steadily past the millhouse, following the stream higher and higher. So high, it was a damn good thing Holly had Lachlan to give her a hand. In jeans and a sweater, she would have had no problem scrambling over the rough terrain. But she was determined to keep her wedding dress clean. Not the most practical attire, but heck, it was her wedding day. A girl had to dress for the occasion. Besides, there were perks, like having Lachlan lift her over the occasional boulder or swing her effortlessly across the stream.
“Almost there,” he murmured.
It could take all day as far as she was concerned. Especially when it came to watching his calves bulge as he moved in that kilt.
Eventually, they arrived at a peak that looked over the entire property, from the misty mountains to the shimmering lake and the house below. At the far end of the loch, another peak mirrored the one they stood upon.
“Right, then.” Lachlan pulled out two tiny flasks. “Would you like to start with Old Blaine or Wildcat whisky?”
She tapped the smaller, newer flask. “Wildcat first, then Old Blaine. Or should I say, Dragon’s Fire?”
Lachlan grinned and unscrewed the Old Blaine for himself. Then they both raised their flasks to the peak at the end of the loch, where generations of Stuarts had been laid to rest.
A lump formed in Holly’s throat, but she managed to keep her voice steady. Well, mostly.
“Thank you, Trevor. For being part of my life. For teaching me so much. For…for…well, everything.”
It wasn’t the most eloquent speech, but it came from the heart, and she pictured him standing there, raising his own flask.
To you, my dear.
Lachlan raised his flask a little higher. “My thanks, too. For being more of a father to me than my own. For your wisdom. And most of all, for my beautiful bride.” He pulled Holly in for a side-to-side hug. Then he let out a slow breath. “For a future I wasn’t clever enough to dream of until now. Thank you.”
Holly leaned in, hugging her man.
They stood quietly for a long time, eyes closed. The wind stirred her wedding dress and Lachlan’s kilt, along with the surrounding grass. The scent of flowers — and rain on the horizon — tickled her nose. Birds chirped, and the stream bubbled.
Holly lifted her flask and took a sip, letting a taste of the Rockies slide down her throat. Then she swapped flasks with Lachlan, took a sip from his, and let the flavor of the Highlands chase the first drink. Two worlds mixing in one, so much like her life.
A crazy, unpredictable, sometimes painful, but mostly amazing life. One she wouldn’t change in any way.
Her dragon chuckled. Easy to say now that we have our man.
True? Maybe. But something told her destiny had planned things that way all along.
“So, let me check,” she whispered, slowly opening her eyes. “Something borrowed…” She pointed to the mud boots. “Something blue.” She touched the gorgeous brooch Lachlan had given her that morning with a blue stone set in silver — a family heirloom that had belonged to his mother. It complemented the cairngorm gem Trevor had left her, pinned to her opposite shoulder. “Something old, and something new.” She tapped herself, then him.
He laughed. “You mean old—” he patted his broad chest “—and new.” He cupped her