She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with the residual of unshed tears and dawning joy. She cupped her hands about his jaw. "I traveled over two-hundred years to find you. You're everything I never wanted in a man-arrogant, bossy, too sexy for your own good, and gone in less than a week. How could I not love you with everyfiber of my being?"
Her lips brushed his. The kiss deepened and it became a pledge of love that transcended time.
"Make love to me, DarachMacTavish ."
His body quickened in ready response. "I'm more than willing, but dinner..."
She laughed softly against his mouth. "Didn't you know meatloaf is best reheated?"
AWEEK AND TWO DAYS after Darach's arrival into the twenty-first century, Hamish sat at dinner with his friend and the man he'd called laird in another time and place, Kate, and Harriett, a recently divorced docent he'd met while at the museum. Darach had assimilated into modern Atlanta amazingly well. Perhaps not that amazing really, Hamish reflected, since life was much easier now, even with global warming and hip-hop.
"Here's to old friends and new beginnings," Hamish said, offering a toast across the white-clothed table. Darach, Kate, and Harriet all raised their champagne glasses and joined in the toast over the flickering candlelight.
Hamish looked pointedly at Darach-that was his cue.
"Tell me again how ya'll know one another," Harriett said, precluding Darach and unwittingly throwing a spanner in the works.
"We go way back," Hamish said. Aye, Harriet had no idea. Kate's eyes met his across the table, laughing at his inside joke.
"We share a common interest in history," Darach deadpanned, tugging at his tie. Aye, the man was nervous. As well he should be. Hamish had encouraged him to choose a private moment but Darach wouldn't hear of it, saying Hamish was the reason he and Kate had met in the first place. Harriett, very attractive at fifty-five, evened out the numbers.
While there was a certainjenesaisquoi to living in various time periods on different levels, it got lonely. Hamish dated casually, but there was no point in ever letting things get too far between him and a woman. He was destined to live alone and that but doubled his pleasure in Kate and Darach's happiness.
Hamish nudged Darach's leg with his foot beneath the table.
Darach cleared his throat and turned red. Hamish couldn't bite back a smirk. Aye, the man could hold off half a dozen dragoons with a broadsword and a claymore, yet one woman had him tied up in knots.
"Uh, Katie-love, am I understanding correctly that you have the next four days off work?" Darach asked.
Kate smiled at him over the edge of her champagne flute. "Yes. Much toTorri's annoyance-she has to cover for me."
"Aye." He threw his napkin on the table and it barely missed knocking over his water glass. He slipped out of his chair and dropped to one knee, nearly upending the chair in the process. For a large man, he'd always moved with grace and precision. Now he was more like the proverbial bull in the china shop. He grasped Kate's hand in his.
"Katie, uh, I mean Kate. Oh,bluidy hell, forget it. Katie-love, 'tis only a bit more than a week since I first met you, yet has been a lifetime that I've waited for you and will be for all eternity that I know you. Will you do me the honor of marrying me? Will you take the nameMacTavish for your own?"
Kate glowed. "DarachMacTavish you're arrogant and bossy and I had no idea what my life was missing until I met you." She raised their clasped hands to her lips and pressed a kiss to Darach's knuckles. Beneath the table, Harriet slipped her hand into Hamish's. "I would be honored to marry you and take your name along with my own."
His black brows met over his dark eyes. "Your own?"
"Yes. Wexford-MacTavish," she said.
Darach let go her hand and took his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest.
It was a look Hamish knew well from serving with the laird ofGlenagan . Well, this was about to get interesting. Darach, Mr. Eighteenth Century Highlander, had just come face to face with feminist twenty-first-century sensibilities. Harriet squeezed his hand beneath the table and Hamish shifted in his chair. She need not be getting any ideas.
"IsMacTavish not good enough for you?" Darach said, his voice deceptively soft.
Kate lifted her chin, the same look in her eyes as when she'd indulged in the chest-poking atGlenagan . "I'll bear the nameMacTavish with pride, but Wexford is the last link I have to my parents. You're a part of me, but so are they."
Darach's expression softened and he uncrossed his arms. "'Tis a point you have. You are a clever wench."
Hamish nodded to himself. That she was. She knew how to handle Darach.
She smiled at him. "That's why you want to marry me."
Darach returned her smile. "Aye." He stared at the lass, as if they were the only two in the room and there was no more business to be done. Hamish nudged his foot beneath the table and Darach looked back at him without comprehension. Poor devil, he was daft about the lass. "The ring, man. Don't forget the ring."
"Aye." Darach fumbled in his pocket and pulled out thejeweler's box they'd commissioned just yesterday and picked up this afternoon. "I got this for you."
The lad was making a hash of this. DarachMacTavish was a babbling mess.
Kate opened the box and stared on an indrawn breath. "It's beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
With a joy on his face so pure, it nearly brought a tear to Hamish's eye, Darach slipped the ring on Kate's finger. Kate was indeed a healer, for Hamish had never thought to see Darach so happy.
Around them, the other diners and the wait-staff burst into applause. Darach nodded, looking as regal as the Highland chieftain he was. "I am the luckiest man I know."
The lad was slated to die in a few months. Hamish didn't think that quite so lucky, but all the better that Darach consider his good fortune in the here and now.
Kate held out her hand and twisted it to admire the ring. Darach had done well.
"It's simply beautiful."
Darach grinned, looking younger and happier than Hamish had thought possible. "The band is platinum-two bands twisted together to form one-like us. The three stones represent the past, the present, and the future. They're blue diamonds which are rare, much like what we have found together. They are the blue of heather on the Scottish moor, the blue of your Georgia sky, and the blue of the MacTavish tartan. The past, the present, the future."
Kate leaned over and pressed a brief, sweet kiss to Darach's mouth. "Thankyou, my poet-warrior. It was beautiful before. Now it's even lovelier. But it had to be wildly expensive...how did you-?"
"'Tis taken care of, love," Darach said, sending Hamish a look of gratitude.
Kate wasn't the only one with more money than she knew what to do with. More than one couple had accused him of playing God, which he didn't-that wasn't his domain, but he possessed excellent financial instincts and he played the stock market on a regular basis-and made a killing. Hey, it funded his shopping network spending-he looked across at Darach-and a long-term loan to an old friend. He would've fronted twice that amount to produce the look on Kate and Darach's face. They'd know happiness for such a short period of time he'd gladly do it again.
"So, I was thinking if you did not have any pressing plans, we could get married day after tomorrow," Darach said.
Kate laughed. "One day to plan a wedding? Sure."
"Do you need more time?"
She shook her head, a glimmer of sadness in her eyes. "We all need more time, but I'll make the most of the time I've been given."
Harriet dabbled at her eyes with the corner of her napkin. "Oh, this is the most romantic thing. And I fear I need to repair my make-up. Hamish, would you escort me to the ladies' room?"
She had that look in her eye...that look that women could get that made a man's blood run cold-she had commitment fever. "I fear my gout's acting up-"
"I didn't know you had gout," Harriet said.
"Aye. It can come upon me suddenly." He looked across the table at Darach. Be it the eighteenth century or the twenty-first, a lad should know when a mate needed bailing out.
Darach came to his rescue. He rose from his seat. "I know I am but a poor substitute but I would be honored if you would allow me to accompany you."
"Thankyou, kind sir." Harriet took Darach's arm.
Hamish made a mental note to never bring a date on any future engagement stints. He looked across at Kate. "Congratulations, lass. You've made him happier than I ever thought possible."
"I love him Hamish-like I never thought to love anyone, like I never wanted to love someone, so completely, so infinitely."
"Yes. It's a rare commodity you've found."
"I always thought that people grew to love one another. They formed a relationship and nurtured it. Much like a garden, you sow the seeds, tend it and reap the benefits."
"That's what it's very much like for most people."
"But it wasn't that way. I sowed nothing. I saw him, even before I met him and it was as if I'd tuned into something bigger than myself."
"You found yoursoulmate , Kate. You had to travel a few hundred years to do it, but you found him. That's a circumstance as rare as your blue diamond. I don't believe you went back to Darach because he needed you to tell him he was to die at Culloden. I believe you went to him because his soul's need to heal was so powerful it sought you."
She twisted the ring on her finger and looked past him to where Darach waited outside the ladies' lounge. "What happens if he doesn't go back Hamish? What if he stayed? What if he just checked out of the eighteenth century?"
"You know that's not possible, Kate." His heart ached for her. For both of them.
"Why not? He's so smart, he could get a history degree and teach. He could explore his poetry. We could have such a good life. Why isn't it possible?"
"It's not physically impossible but emotionally and mentally it would destroy him. He could stay here and yes, he could possibly teach, own a business-Darach could do pretty much whatever he made up his mind to do. But his people would die. They would perish in the same manner as the accounts you read. And that's what he couldn't live with, Kate. And I don't think you could either. Would you have him stay at the cost of destroying the man you love?"
"You know the answer to that."
He hated the bleakness in her eyes. "Yes. Just as you've known he can't stay and why. Were he to stay, he'd forfeit his honor and no longer be the man you love."
"So, if he goes can he ever come back?" She lifted her head and he saw a return of her spirit, her bright mind seeking a solution. "Could I buy the portrait once the exhibit is through touring?"
"I don't know. I could check into whether the portrait might be for sale. It wouldn't come cheap."
Kate nodded. "I'll find a way. But could Darach come back after he takes care of things?"
"It's possible. I can't give you the probability. Funny thing about this time travel, other than the continuum of time, there are no rules, noregs , and no guarantees. There is no guarantee Darach can actually get back to 1744. It simply may not happen. Once the portal is identified, it doesn't mean it's an open-door policy."
She reminded him of aBotticelli portrait, radiant and tragic all at once.
"I'm not looking for a guarantee, just a chance."
HER WEDDING DAY.Kate drew a deep breath and paused at the arched stone doorway, letting the moment wash over her, through her. Stained glass filtered the sunlight rendering the church's interior dim and cool. Arches, nave and a worn stone floor lent it the feel of old Europe instead of Atlanta. The haunting notes of the bagpipes filled the air.
At the end of the long aisle, Darach waited, resplendent in his kilt. Hamish and Harriett-poor Hamish had finally given in to her standing witness-stood by his side.
Kate smoothed a hand over her dress. The cream silk with fitted sleeves that belled over her wrists was simple and elegant and she'd known the moment she spotted it-it wasthe dress -even without Hamish's seal of approval.
She looked down at the bouquet of cream roses and blue forget-me-nots with one single red velvet rose in the middle. Instead of ribbon, a thin strip of theMacTavish plaid from Darach's kilt knotted the flowers in place.
Was she truly ready to pledge herself to this man who could not stay? Would it be enough to carry only his name and continue to walk alone in life?
The answer welled inside her-a pure joy, a rightness of being. Yes, she, practical, pragmatic Kate Wexford was about to marry a man from another century that she'd only known for a week and a half. She'd never been surer of anything. And for today, for now, she would live in the moment.
She wished, not for the first time, that her mother could have been here-to laugh and join in the whirlwind planning, to stand by Kate's side and share in her joy. She would like Darach, Kate had no doubt. Warm air gusted against the back of her neck, ruffling her hair and then was gone. Kate smiled. Perhaps her mother was here, after all.
She began her walk down the aisle, feeling as if she literally floated down the aisle, buoyed by love and promise and the pipes' sweet melancholy. Darach's eyes met and held hers, silently proclaiming his love. She reached his side and passed her bouquet to Harriett, who was already dabbing at her eyes with a lacehankie.
She and Darach clasped hands. His, warm and big, engulfed hers.
The minister kept it short and sweet. Within minutes they'd promised to love, honor, and cherish one another-Kate had refused a vow of obedience.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Harriett sobbed to beat the band.
"You may kiss your bride."
"Aye. The good part. Give me a kiss, wife."
"Aye. 'Tis my pleasure, husband."
Kate deliberately stepped on his toe.
He framed her face in his hands as if she were precious and fragile. "Wench."
She clasped his wrists in her hands. "Barbarian."
His kiss held tenderness and promise and passion.
"Katie Wexford-MacTavish. Aye, that has a nice ring to it."
KATIE UNLOCKED THE DOORof the condo and Darach stopped his beautiful bride with a stilling hand. He'd waited a lifetime for her and he wagered they'd do it correctly.
"We will do this right." He swept her up in his arms. "'Tis the groom's duty to carry his bride o'er the threshold."
Her green eyes alight, Kate wound her arms around his neck and nuzzled his chin. "It's also the groom's duty to carry his wife upstairs and fulfill her every need."
He loved her beyond reason. "Must be a strange American custom. Where I'm from that is the wife's duty."
She reached around behind him and closed the door. "Sorry,MacTavish , you're too big for me to carry you upstairs."
He started up to the second floor. "Ah, I can see I'll have to teach you how to be a proper Scots wife."
She flicked her tongue against his neck, which sent a rush of blood straight to his groin. "And it is clear to me you may need a lesson or two in how to be a regular American husband."
He made quick work of the rest of the stairs and entered her bedroom. He bent one knee on her bed and laid her against the pillows and coverlet. "Ah, here is the marital bed, wife." He couldn't seem to say it often enough. Wife. She'd pledged her troth as he had pledged his.
She was stunningly beautiful in her wedding finery but he ached to take it off of her and make her his again. Aye, they'd made love before and it shouldn't be any different this time, but it would be. They'd pledged themselves to each other before God and under the laws of the land and now they'd consummate their vows in the most elemental way between a man and a woman.