“What is so humorous, my lord?”
He grew serious again. “What is thismy lordspeech? ’Tis too formal. Call me husband, or dearest, most beloved. Names like those.”
She held her hand to her lips and gave a short, silent burst of laughter.
He stared at her, looking insulted, which made her laugh all the more. Watching her, he gave in and laughed with her.
When their mirth faded, she swung around again and leaned her back against his chest. She breathed in the fresh, pine-scented air and laid her hand over his, curled around her waist.
Looking south, she saw the mountain range. She loved always knowing which way was home because no matter where she was, she could see Ben Nevis.
“Do ye still want me to be yer wife…” She gave him a black look. “My darling?”
He laughed again, a bit softer this time. “Even more than before.”
She quirked her brow at him. “Are ye certain ’tis Ealar with the silver tongue, and not ye?”
His smile widened. Any moment, he was going to laugh again. It made her want to laugh more too. She needed him in her life.
“Come,” she urged. “Yer mother is likely waiting to see ye.”
He did not move himself or his horse for a moment that stretched on endlessly. But then he flicked the horse’s reins and they started moving again.
Instead of riding directly to the houses, he took them to the nearest village. After half a day greeting the villagers and eating with some, he requested the presence of their priest.
It didn’t take them long to bring Father James to him.
Before any other words were spoken, Logan turned to her and said, “Do ye mind if he is a Catholic priest? I’m afraid there are verra few Elder Protestants in the Highlands.”
This was truly happening. He was making it happen. “That is fine with me, my dearest.”
When they stood before the priest outside the church and spoke their vows to each other, she couldn’t think of anything else but the cut of his jaw, his chin, his sculpted lips, of kissing him and getting him alone.
For the most part, the villagers cheered when they were declared husband and wife, but there were some who whispered—and not so quietly—that she looked poor, frail, and not fit for the Lochiel’s eldest son.
“She saved my life on more than one occasion,” Logan told them. “The question is not whether she is worthy of me, but am I worthy of her?”
Everyone was quiet, looking repentant or confused. They cheered again, though, when he kissed her as her husband.
He pulled away and pushed her behind him when he heard riders approaching.
“Logan!”
Elspeth turned to see Logan’s cousins riding closer. Jamie was in the lead, followed by Ewen. Behind them, Ealar spread his pewter gaze over the village, making the people back away.
“What are ye doin’ here?” Ewen called out first as they approached. Growing closer, his gaze dropped to their entwinedfingers, their hands locked in unison. “Fine, then, but ye should have let us know.”
Logan smiled and then bent his head and stared at his boots. “Am I a young lad who must ask permission to be alone with Elspeth and make her my wife?”
“Logan!” Jamie yelped happily. “Truly?”
Logan nodded and smiled at Elspeth.
“Yer mother willna take kindly to ye doin’ it withoot her,” Ewen pointed out.
“My mother will happily go home and begin plannin’ a weddin’ celebration fer us. She will be happy fer her broken son.”
Riding slowly toward them, Ealar Cameron looked to be a part of the mist rising around his horse. When he spoke, some might have thought he was casting a spell on them, for he entranced almost all.
