by Baker, Katy
He'd not seen his father in many years. How would Laird Logan MacAuley react to the return of his wayward son? He glanced at Lia. She nodded encouragingly and then took his hand. Together, they walked through the doors.
A large group of people was gathered around the high table. His uncle Camdan, always fiery tempered, was remonstrating wildly and demanding all the raiders who'd escaped be hunted down, whilst Finlay, ever the more restrained listened quietly and said nothing. Ross’s mother sat in a chair, talking quietly to a dark haired man who sat in the laird's chair, looking over a document.
At the sound of Ross's approach all talking ceased. His father looked up. Laird Logan MacAuley had aged in the intervening years and now a dusting of gray marked his dark hair. Lines radiated out from the corners of his eyes and around his mouth. But for all that he was still a strong, vigorous man with the build of a blacksmith and the gaze of a hunting hawk. At the sight of Ross he pushed his chair back and slowly stood.
Ross came to stand in front of the table, Lia at his side. He nodded respectfully.
"Father."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw his aunts Eleanor and Bethany smiling hugely and his young cousin Brochan bouncing on his feet, eager to greet Ross, but he didn't spare them a glance. His attention was fixed on his father.
Logan MacAuley said nothing. He stared at his son, an unreadable look upon his face. Then he cleared his throat.
"Finlay tells me it is ye we have to thank for this victory." His voice was deep and resonant, filling the hall.
"Nay," Ross replied. He nodded at Lia. "Ye have Lia to thank for that. It was her plan that saved us."
Logan's dark gaze fell on Lia. To her credit, she met his stare steadily, inclining her head in greeting.
"Well met," Logan said at last. "My wife has told me a little of yer origins and how ye came to be traveling with my son. Given where ye come from, I'm sure Lady Eleanor and Lady Bethany will be eager to make yer acquaintance." Was that a smile curling the corners of his father's mouth? Ross couldn't be sure.
The laird’s dark gaze snapped to him again. He moved around the table to stand in front of Ross. He realized he was taller than his father now, able to look straight into his eyes.
Logan looked him up and down, assessing. Then suddenly he broke into a smile. It made him look much younger. "Damn it, boy! Ye have led us all a merry dance. Where have ye been all these years? Nay, dinna tell me. There is plenty of time to catch up with all of that now ye are home."
To Ross's utter shock, Logan threw his arms around him and pulled him close. "Son, it’s good to have ye home again."
For a moment, Ross went rigid, unsure how to respond. But then all the bitterness and resentment he'd held towards this man melted away. He hugged his father tightly, realizing how much he'd missed him.
Logan stepped back and Thea rushed forward, throwing her arms around him so tightly he could barely breathe. Then his aunts mobbed him, fussing over Lia, firing a hundred questions at him and he was suddenly engulfed in the warmth of his family.
He was finally, truly, home.
LIA HAD NEVER BEEN so pampered in her life. Thea, along with Ross's aunts Eleanor and Bethany fussed around her as though she was a queen. Which, for today at least, she supposed she was. It was her wedding day after all.
"How about like this?" Thea said, as she twisted Lia's hair into a knot and piled it on the top of her head.
Looking into the mirror in the large chamber that she shared with Ross, Lia stifled a giggle. The hair style made her look like a pineapple.
"No!" Eleanor cried. Finlay’s wife, the clan doctor, was down-to-earth and honest. Lia had liked her right away. "Lia has such beautiful long hair, it would be a shame to pin it up."
Thea frowned at Eleanor, and, perhaps sensing an impending argument, Bethany, Camdan’s wife, stepped between them. "How about a compromise? I did my cousin's hair before her wedding and we went for half-up- half down. Like this."
Lia smiled and left the three women to it. To be honest, it was nice to be fussed over and she thanked her lucky stars that she'd fallen in with the MacAuley clan and these three women—all of whom it turned out were from the future like she was. It had made settling in so much easier.
The last three weeks had passed in a blur. She'd hardly had a minute to think about the strange new life she'd found herself in as she'd been so busy helping Dun Ringill and its people recover from the attack by the Irish raiders. Logan had authorized a dozen new engineering projects and she, along with Otto and a team of the clan's best builders, had worked every hour they could—starting, of course, with a permanent set of river defences.
But today, there was to be no work, nor for three days afterwards. Today was the day that the heir to Clan MacAuley was getting married and Logan and Thea had pulled out all the stops, including declaring three days of celebration.
Married, Lia thought. I'm getting married.
A lovely warm feeling uncurled in her stomach, spreading through her limbs like warm syrup. She knew she was supposed to feel nervous. Wasn't every bride supposed to on their wedding day? But Lia couldn't wait to get on with it. The only fly in the ointment was that she wished her father could be here.
How proud he would have been, Lia thought. Oh, dad. I miss you.
"Lia?" asked Bethany. "Are you all right?"
Lia realized a single tear had trickled its way down her cheek. She wiped it away.
"I'm fine," she replied. "Just thinking about my family."
Bethany smiled in sympathy and squeezed Lia's shoulder. "I know how you feel. I still miss my family—even though I have a new one now. It will get easier, I promise."
There was a knock on the door and Bethany answered it. She raised an eyebrow at a tall, blond-haired figure standing outside. "Well," she drawled. "You don't half scrub up well when you make the effort, husband."
Camdan MacAuley grinned at his wife's quip then stepped into the room and bowed to Lia, one arm across his chest. The middle of the three MacAuley brothers, Camdan had the blond hair and blue eyes of their mother and the build of a football player. He had a fiery temper, quick to anger and quick to laugh.
"Not half as well as that nephew of mine scrubs up," he rumbled. "Although he isnae looking his best right now. He's waiting downstairs looking as pale as a cup of milk. Anyone would think he's doing something important today. I've been sent to see if ye are ready to come down—any longer and I think the poor boy might keel over."
Lia pushed her chair back and stood. "We can't have that, can we?" She pulled in a breath, examined herself one last time in the mirror. She wore a long flowing ivory colored dress with the MacAuley plaid pinned to each shoulder. Thea and her team of seamstresses had outdone themselves—the dress was utterly gorgeous. She nodded. "I'm ready."
She took Camdan's offered arm and they swept out of the chamber. Thea, Eleanor and Bethany followed, Bethany holding her train, the other two carrying posies. Her route to the Great Hall had been strewn with flowers and she suspected Thea's hand in that.
They reached the doors to the Great Hall and stopped. The soft murmur of conversation came from within. Now the nerves did flare, wriggling inside Lia’s belly like snakes. Camdan gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, nodded at a serving man to announce them, then led her inside.
She'd never seen so many people crammed into the Great Hall before. Even when the place had been packed with refugees it hadn't been as busy as this. Rows of people turned to look as she and Camdan started up the aisle and more still packed the galleries and landings where musicians usually played. It seemed the whole clan had turned up but she had eyes only for one man.
Ross stood at the far end of the room, looking resplendent in his MacAuley plaid. His auburn hair caught a shaft of light coming through the window and his eyes, that strange amber colour, seemed to glow like hot coals. She couldn't help herself. She grinned like a madwoman, and Ross grinned in return, as excited as schoolchildren.
&nb
sp; Archer and Maggie stood by Ross's side. Archer looked almost respectable with his hair neatly brushed and wearing a crisp linen tunic and trews. This was a strange day indeed!
She and Camdan reached Ross and with a nod, Camdan handed her over to her future husband. Ross stared down at her and the emotions that swelled inside were enough to still her breath. Oh God, how she loved him.
Laird MacAuley cleared his throat and stepped forward. In his ceremonial plaid and cloak, Ross's father cut a dashing figure.
"My friends," he said into the sudden hushed stillness. "I dinna need to tell ye why we are here. Lord above, I reckon every soul within fifty miles knows what's happening today!" This brought a round of laughter. "And why not? Why shouldnae we shout it from the rafters? My son, my heir, has come home, and along with his love, Emilia Shaw, has brought us a great victory. Why should we not celebrate their union? What could bring the MacAuley clan more joy?"
There was a cheer loud enough to bring down the rafters. As Laird MacAuley conducted the ceremony Lia spoke in all the right places, said all the right things but barely registered any of it. Ross took all of her attention. For his part, he stared at her, joy shining in his eyes, his hands gripping hers fiercely whilst Logan wrapped the ceremonial plaid around their joined hands, the symbol of their union.
Then it was done. As Logan pronounced them man and wife Ross didn’t wait for permission. He swept Lia into his arms and kissed her so deeply, so passionately, that she found herself on tiptoes and heard the crowd cheering and hollering so loudly she was sure the windows would shatter.
Finally Ross let her go and she stared up at him, a little breathless.
"My wife," he breathed, as though trying the word on for size. "My wife. I can scarcely believe this is real."
She kissed him, eliciting another cheer from the crowd. "Did that feel real enough?"
He grinned, took her hand, and, with the guests following behind, led her down the aisle and out onto the tourney ground where tables and chairs had been set up for the wedding feast.
And what a feast it was. It was a fine afternoon with a light breeze and wispy clouds scudding high above. Lia sat next to her husband—her husband!—and presided over an afternoon of eating, drinking, singing and dancing. Finlay entertained them all with his music and Thea had hired a group of acrobats who dazzled them all with their tumbling tricks. There were so many well-wishers who wished to speak with her or to beg a dance that Lia barely had time to catch her breath. Only much later, when the sun had set and great torches had been lit around the tourney ground to enable the reveling to continue, did Lia manage to return to her seat, breathless and a little giddy with wine.
Ross wasn't there.
Further along the table, Logan and Camdan, both a little worse for the drink, were engaged in a loud arm-wrestling contest whilst Thea watched disapprovingly and Bethany shook her head at their boyish antics. Finlay and Eleanor were teaching a song to a group of children and Archer was arguing loudly with Otto about the best way to brew ale.
"Ye look miles away," said a voice. Lia jumped to find Maggie standing beside her. Her friend carried a large jug of ale in one hand.
Lia smiled. "I saw you won the drinking contest with the gate guards."
Maggie waved a dismissive hand. "Pah. Novices, the lot of them." She nodded towards the cliff trail. "He went that way, by the way. Not five minutes ago."
Lia didn't need to ask who she meant. She smiled, thanked Maggie, and then slipped away from the festivities and out onto the coastal path. The autumn weather had been kind the last few days and it was warmer than usual—for which Lia was grateful. A light breeze caressed her skin, bringing with it the scent of the sea. It was a full moon, just as it had been the first time she’d come this way, and the land was illuminated in a soft white glow that made it easier to find her way in the dark.
Holding up the hem of her dress and being careful where she put her feet, she picked her way along the coastal path towards the Devil’s Bridge and Ross.
Sure enough, as she approached the promontory she spotted him outlined against the silver of the sea. He’d laid out a plaid, well away from the edge, and was seated on it, knees drawn up as he stared out over the waves.
Lia shuddered as she stepped out onto the spur of land, remembering the first time she’d come here. That time Ross had lashed out and she’d almost fallen over the edge. That time he’d been full of regret and shame, and Lia had been full of confusion, unsure who the real Ross MacAuley was.
It seemed a lifetime ago. So much had changed. Now he was her husband and she loved him. It was as simple as that.
“Are ye gonna stand there all night?” he said suddenly.
Lia smiled, shaking her head. She thought she’d been quiet but he always seemed to sense when she was near. She walked out to join him, seating herself carefully on the plaid by his side.
“People will think we’re up to something, sneaking out of our own wedding.”
“Will they?” Ross said with a smile. “Well, it will give them something else to gossip about, willnae it?”
He put his arm around her and she leaned against him, loving the feeling of his hard, warm chest. For a long time they sat like that in silence, enjoying being together.
“Do ye think he will be all right?” Ross asked at last.
Lia didn’t have to ask who he meant. “Ramsay is a MacAuley isn’t he? I’ve no doubt he will cause chaos in the twenty-first century, but yes, I’m sure he’ll do just fine.”
“It’s strange to think that he’s alive but living hundreds of years away from here. And it will be even stranger for him with everything so new and different.”
She looked up at him. “He’ll find somebody to help him. Somebody special. Just like I did.”
He gazed down at her. “Aye, no doubt ye are right.”
“I usually am.”
He grinned at her. “I wouldnae dare argue with that, wife.”
He pulled her close and kissed her. Whatever she’d been about to say flew right out of her head. His kiss was deep and passionate, his body pressing against hers, his arms squeezing her tight. Lia shuffled closer, her arms wrapping around his neck, her eyes sliding closed, as she let herself slip into the deliciousness of the moment. His lips moved insistently, soft and strong. His tongue pushed her lips open and darted into her mouth. He tasted of the mint he liked to chew after a meal and the scent of him, a mix of leather and lavender, filled her nostrils, sweeter than nectar.
Ross’s hands swept down her back, sending tingles along her spine, and then he was pulling at the laces that held her dress closed. In only moments he had it untied and Lia shrugged it from her shoulders. Goose bumps rose across her skin as her breasts were exposed to the cool night air.
Lia didn’t mind. She had Ross to keep her warm.
His eyes ravished her, gone huge and dark with lust. He bent his head, took one nipple into his mouth and sucked, teasing with the tip of his tongue until it hardened. With a gasp Lia threw her head back as a hot wave of desire radiated up from the spot between her legs.
Ross yanked the dress down further and Lia wriggled her hips until she was free of it entirely, lying back on the plaid, trusting to Ross’s body and the flame of her passion to keep away the cold. It was dark enough that nobody else could see them but light enough that she could see the desire flaring in his eyes.
He pushed her onto her back and his kisses traveled down across his belly and lower still, to the inside of one thigh, along the delicate skin to her sweet spot. She gasped as he lifted her hips, placing his hands under her buttocks and tilting her towards him. Oh God. What was he doing to her? Her fingers tangled in his hair as his lips, his tongue found all the spots that sent dizzying sensation washing through her and worked them expertly, turning her body into a blazing torch.
She writhed and moaned, eyes closed, as Ross worked his magic. He seemed to know instinctively what she needed, just the right amount of pressure, a touch h
ere, a caress there, to take her to the edge of ecstasy.
But it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel the heat of his skin, the weight of his body against hers. She wanted all of him.
She reached down to grab the shoulder of his plaid, tugging at it weakly. Sensing her need, Ross reared up onto his knees, yanked off his plaid and the shirt that went beneath it and tossed them both away. For one glorious moment he was outlined in front of her, limned by the moonlight. His broad shoulders, his strong arms, his muscled torso, tight from years of training and physical labor, that narrowed to his hips and then—oh God then—his desire for her so plain to see, swollen with need.
She grabbed his shoulders, pulled him down atop her and Ross obliged, covering her with his hard, warm body. The chill of the night disappeared as his skin touched hers, his weight pinning her against the plaid beneath.
With a low hiss Ross shifted his hips, nudging her thighs apart. She tilted to meet him and as he stared deep into her eyes, Ross thrust himself inside her. It felt glorious. It felt... perfect. She wanted to scream with the pure, unadulterated bliss of having his body join with hers but contented herself with a soft sigh of fulfilment. For a long moment he held himself still inside her, savoring this moment of them becoming one. But then desire flared and he began to move, making love to her deeply, desperately, each thrust of his hips claiming her, making her his.
Lia met each of his lusty strokes, her body keeping time with his as they ground together, heat and sweat sliding between them as they tangled, joined, their bodies becoming intertwined as their hearts already were.
Lia arched her back, gasping, as pressure inside her began to build. As Ross’s thrusts became deeper, harder, more urgent, so too did the sensations raging through Lia’s body. Slowly but with growing speed, she was lifted up, up, up on a tide of ecstasy. She moaned as for one blinding, endless moment she teetered on the edge. Then, crying out Ross’s name, she crashed over the edge into oblivion.