by Anna Durand
First, his lips puckered. Then, they twitched upward. Finally, a broad smile lit up his face. "Fuck work."
Though I couldn't resist smiling back at him, I had to push for more info. "I appreciate the sentiment, but that's not really an answer."
"You were right," he said. "I hid in my office to avoid spending time with you, to avoid loving you. It didn't work, and I'm done with that. I'll help people who need it, the ones who can't afford a solicitor, but otherwise, I'm retired."
Pretty sure my jaw dropped to the floor when he said that.
"Retired at almost-forty?" I said. "Are you sure you're ready to join the ranks of the idle rich?"
"I have no intention of being idle." He lifted his head to look squarely at me. "We can do whatever you want. Anything. Say it, and I'll make it happen."
"Anything?"
"Yes." He raised his eyebrows. "You wanted a new career, a new mission in life. I'll support you in whatever way you need."
"Well, I was thinking —"
He raised a hand. "Not yet. No decisions for two weeks."
I'd learned I couldn't argue with Decisive Rory, particularly when he was also in Protective Rory mode.
The next day, the MacTaggart clan descended on the castle. They had called to ask permission to visit me first, and Rory had asked me if I was ready for a gathering of well-meaning Scots and the American Wives Club. I couldn't say no to these people. They'd welcomed me into their family without reservation and made me feel like I belonged here. Besides, convalescing got really boring. The MacTaggarts didn't stay too long, a consideration I appreciated.
His family had assured me they didn't give a hoot about my arrangement with Rory, or our marriage of convenience. They'd realized we loved each other before Rory and I had. His reluctance to commit to a normal relationship hadn't shocked his family one bit. My family hadn't minded our unusual courtship either. After meeting Rory, they'd trusted him to take care of me.
Every day with Rory brought new revelations, new evidence of his change. He watched superhero movies with me, enduring the experience with aplomb, but he got to like it when I started comparing him to the muscle men in the movies. I'd squeeze his bicep and say, "Mm, yours are much firmer and sexier." Or I'd slide my hand along his inner thigh and say, "Your legs are so much more toned and powerful, perfect for driving a woman half crazy in bed."
He volunteered to watch every movie a second time.
The two-week mark arrived on his birthday, though I doubted he realized I knew it was his birthday. That evening, we loafed on the sitting-room sofa, me in the corner with my legs bent under me and him beside me with an arm on the sofa's back and his legs outstretched, his feet on the coffee table.
I rubbed my cheek against his arm. "I have a surprise for you."
He slanted sideways to fold his arm around me, his face a hair's breadth from mine. "What sort of surprise?"
"One sec." Without dislodging his arm, I sneaked a hand behind me to pull out the object I'd hidden between the cushion and the sofa's arm. My body had concealed the part of the object that protruded. I offered the gift-wrapped package to him. "Happy birthday, Rory baby."
He glanced at the package and back to me. He blinked slowly as if he couldn't comprehend what I'd said. "You haven't called me that since before — since everyone found out about our arrangement."
I tipped my head to the side. "Haven't I?"
"No." His brows lowered. "Is it a good sign?"
"Guess so." I thrust the gift at him. "Open it."
He accepted the package, tapping his fingers on it. "How did you know it's my birthday?"
"Oh please. I've got five sisters-in-law and two brothers-in-law, not to mention parents-in-law. Did you honestly think I couldn't find out when your birthday is?"
"I should never doubt your skills in uncovering my secrets."
"Yep, you should know better by now."
He tore off the wrapping paper with a single swipe of his big hand. The discarded paper crinkled. The gift — a rectangular book with a smooth, hard cover — glistened in the low light.
"What is this?" he asked, turning the book over in his hand.
"Flip it open and you'll see."
He flipped it open. A smirk tightened his lips as he eyed me sideways. "Interesting title."
I shimmied closer and pointed at the words on the page as I recited them. "The evolution of Emery and Rory baby, a pictorial history."
"Yes, I can read." He held me snug against his body. "Do I want to know what pictures you've got in here?"
"Be brave. Flip through it."
He ran his fingers over the writing on the title page. "Did you write this by hand?"
"Yep. And I had every picture printed out, so I could stick it to the page with my own little fingers. I handwrote the captions too."
"Captions?" He turned to the first page of photos and smiled when he read the line at the top. "Once upon a time, there was an uptight but very hot Scotsman who lived alone in his castle. Until, that is, he met a princess geek…"
He touched the first photo, the selfie I'd taken in Pat O'Brien's.
"That's me," I said, "right before you walked up and propositioned me. I left that part out of the caption."
"I see that." He moved his finger to the words beneath the photo. "Emery, thirty seconds before she met her solicitous solicitor."
My cheek on his shoulder, I asked, "Why did you pick me that night? I've always wondered. You could've had your choice of hot babes, professional and unprofessional ones. Why pick the girl in faded jeans and a goofy T-shirt who hadn't showered or brushed her teeth?"
He hooked a finger under my chin, tilting my head up to gaze into my eyes. "I saw you take this picture."
"I didn't see you."
"You wouldn't have. I was in the shadows near the doorway." He rubbed his thumb across my lower lip. "I saw you and then I saw nothing else. The way you smiled when you posed for your self-portrait, the way your hair shimmered in the light, you were the most radiant woman I'd ever laid eyes on. I had to have you."
I licked at the pad of his thumb. "Good answer."
"The truth." He lowered his hand. "I saw you rooting about in your bra as well. Hunting for cash, but I didn't know that. I thought you were a bit barmy, in the most adorable way, and I was enchanted."
"That answer's even better." I stuck my finger in his side. "Even if you did call me barmy."
"I love your unconventional nature." He returned his gaze to the photo of me. "When I watched you fiddling with your bra, I had no idea you were hiding the crown jewels in there."
"A hundred bucks isn't a treasure trove."
He lighted a finger on my breastbone, revealed by the low neckline of my blouse, and dragged the tip down into the valley between my breasts. "I wasn't talking about your money."
My breath hitched when his fingertip slipped under my breast. "And Aidan wonders why women like you. It's no mystery to me."
We browsed the album together, laughing over the photo of Rory eating pancakes with surgical precision, reading the captions that summarized our weeks together, and finally snuggling closer when we got to the wedding photos.
Rory tapped the picture of him at the altar with that dazed look on his face. "Who took this? Not you, unless you hid a camera in your bosom."
"Hadley took it. She said we needed to document how shocked you were by my effervescent beauty."
"You are effervescent, and beautiful. But I was stunned by how deeply I love you."
"Are you still stunned?"
"Every day." He whisked his lips across mine. "By your beauty, your intelligence, your never-ending positivity, your passion, everything about you."
"I adore you, Rory MacTaggart."
"And I worship you, Emery MacTaggart." He picked up the book and aimed it at me. "The last photo isn't of us. It's the house on Skye."
"Because that's where I told you I love you, and
it's where you shared your feelings with me for the first time."
He shut the book and set it on the table. "I shouldn't have said it during sex. I love you, and I should've told you the day I realized it. I can't blame you for wanting to leave me."
"I told you I needed time to think."
"Time away from me." He bowed his head. "I used to believe I gave up on Isobel too soon, that I should've fought for her. Now I know I should've done the opposite and ended our marriage long before she left." He sagged against the sofa. "My worst regret is that I let you walk away without saying a word. I wanted to fall to my knees and beg you to stay. Instead, I let you go without a fight. I will never repeat that mistake. If you want to leave me now, I'll run after you. I'll make a bloody fool of myself in any way necessary if it will keep you from going."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"You left me once, and I deserved it."
"Oh Rory, you've got it all wrong." I climbed onto his lap, straddling him with my hands on his shoulders. "I asked for time, not a divorce. I needed to think, but I never had any intention of leaving you."
He rested his hands on my hips. "You came back because of your illness."
"Wrong again." I glided my hands up his neck to cradle his nape. "I wanted to tell you then, but you insisted I shouldn't make decisions for two weeks. Well, it's been two weeks and I can tell you. I came home because I love you and I need you and I want to live with you for the rest of my life. I came home because this is my home. Anywhere you are is where I belong."
His fingers tightened on my hips. "You mean it?"
"With all my heart." I spread my legs wider to sit lower on his lap. "I'm never walking out that door again unless it's with you."
"You weren't sure I'd changed."
"I was sure. You weren't." I cupped his face in my hands. "Do you believe it now?"
"Aye. I believe in you, and I believe in us."
With my hands holding his face, I leaned in until our lips skimmed each other. Our breaths mingled. "I've meant to ask you. There was something you said the night you forfeited our bet. It was Gaelic, I think. I'm dying to know what it meant. You probably don't remember."
"No, I remember." His smile turned steamy. "Yer so beautiful, ye make my bagais ache, cho cinnteach is a tha bod's an each. I want my face in your camas, my mouth on your brillean. The translation is you're so beautiful, you make my balls ache, as sure as a horse has a penis. I want my face between your thighs, my mouth on your clitoris."
"I'm on board for all of that." I grazed my tongue across his lips. "You haven't kissed me in weeks, not the way I want you to."
"Didnae want to overtax you."
"I'm fine, baby. Recovered and cleared for all activities." I sucked his bottom lip between my teeth and released it slowly. "And I do mean all activities. But let's start with a real, bone-melting kiss."
He gave me everything I asked for, and more.
*****
The following day, with our relationship on a solid footing, Rory insisted we must visit the village for the sole purpose of having "a ridiculous outing packed with frivolous behavior and even more frivolous spending." He planned on teaching me how to blow pounds sterling on things I didn't need but simply wanted. My head came close to popping off my body when he announced he would teach me to be extravagant.
We drove into Loch Fairbairn in the Jag, and Rory committed a vagrant if brief violation of the speed laws just to make me smile. Before I could dash into a shop to browse their clothing selections, Rory caught my arm and informed me he had an urgent task to complete at his office. I was to meet him in the village square in fifteen minutes.
So, I shopped for ten minutes and then journeyed to the square. The two overstuffed bags of frivolous stuff I'd bought weighed down my arms. I set them on the stone-paved sidewalk, taking in the beauty of the historic stone buildings. I ambled toward the front windows of a little restaurant, my tummy grumbling at the sight of food. Hubby, you better show up quick to buy me lunch.
Movement in the image reflected in the glass drew my attention.
I grinned at my husband's reflection and whirled around. "Rory baby, finally. Your wife needs feeding."
He halted in front of me, his expression oddly determined, his fist closed around a small, square object. "Something to do first."
"What's that?"
Rory lunged backward two steps. He grasped the hem of his untucked T-shirt and stripped it off, pitching it to the stone sidewalk. In only his jeans and sneakers, he flung his arms out and broke into song, belting out a boisterous rendition of "You Make Me Feel So Young."
I burst into giggles and slapped a hand over my mouth. The giggles segued into all-out laughter that made my eyes water and my stomach muscles twinge.
Done with the first verse and chorus, Rory reached for the metal button on his jeans. He started to unhook it.
I rushed forward to stay his hand with my own. Between lingering giggles, I said, "What on earth are you doing?"
"Told ye I'd make a bloody fool of myself for you anytime, anywhere."
"I thought that was a thing you say, not a thing you actually do." I prized his fingers away from the button. "Besides, your nakedness is exclusively for my viewing pleasure."
A small crowd had gathered across the street. People pointed, smiled, shook their heads in amused disbelief. One person called out, "Never thought I'd see the day Rory MacTaggart goes barmy for a woman."
Heedless of the crowd, Rory dropped to one knee and raised the little velvet box he'd concealed in his hand. He flipped it open, revealing a diamond ring. "Will you be my wife, Emery?"
"Uh, I am your wife. Married you twice. How many weddings do you need?"
"Not a wedding." He thrust the box up at me. "You never got a ring or a proper proposal."
My attempt to quash laughter resulted in a snort. "This is proper? You half naked on the street?"
"For you, this is the most proper sort of proposal." He plucked the ring out of its velvet bed and lifted it to my left hand. "Will you be my wife, my Emery baby?"
"Yes." I grinned, my whole being suffused with joy. "Forever."
He slipped the ring on my finger, in front of the gold wedding band, and kissed my knuckles.
Then he surged to his feet and hollered, "I love my wife!"
"I love my husband!" I shouted.
Rory swept me into his arms, spinning us around and around.
And the crowd cheered.
Epilogue
Two Months Later
On a warm and sunny fall day, I wandered into Rory's office carrying a book and sprawled on the chair in front of his desk with my feet on the desktop. Sunshine beamed through the windows, spilling over my husband and burnishing his beautiful face with golden rays.
Without looking up from his work, he said, "I'll be finished in ten minutes, then we can play."
Yes, Rory MacTaggart now played — in the sexy way, and in the silly way. He loved it these days. Instead of making time for fun, these days he squeezed work in around everything else.
My tech support business had taken off, though I most often worked for free. Rory's generosity in taking on pro bono clients had shown me I wanted to do the same. People who wanted to pay me did. Everyone else got my skills gratis.
"That doesn't work for me," I said. "I want to play right now. To celebrate."
"Celebrate what?" He glanced up, and his eyes widened. Swiftly they narrowed as his mouth curved into a sensual smile. "It's a good thing we're the only ones in the house today."
We had welcomed many guests, on numerous occasions, over the past two months. His family. My family. Even my work buddies from Travellis got a free round-trip ticket on Air Rory.
"Don't know what you mean," I said, pretending innocence.
He dropped his pen, leaning back in his chair. "You are barely clothed, mo gaoloch."
"Really? I hadn't noticed." He'd called me his d
ear in Gaelic. Sometimes he called me mo leannan, his sweetheart — or m'eudail, his darling. I loved anything he rumbled in Gaelic.
I stretched languorously and rose.
Rory drank in the totality of my appearance, from my ComicCon T-shirt to the black lace of my bikini panties, and down to the naked expanse of my legs and my bare feet. He exhaled on a guttural groan, the sound hungry and totally masculine.
Then he noticed the book I held.
"What are you doing with that?" he asked, his fingers stroking the desktop, the movements eliciting a warm shiver in me, as if he'd stroked my body that way.
I ambled to the desk and leaned against it as I handed him the book. "I added something to it."
He took the volume and flipped it open, smiling at the title page. "We're still evolving, then?"
"Absolutely. I hope we never stop."
"We won't." He thumbed through the pages of our photo album, past the pictures that represented every stage in our relationship. When he reached the final page, he stilled. "What…"
I tapped my finger on the picture of me as a baby. "A preview of what the next phase in our evolution might look like. Your little guys are strong swimmers."
"My what?"
"Your sperm, baby. They got the job done."
A breath exploded out of him, and he broke into the most radiant smile I'd ever seen, the truest expression of exultation. "It's true?"
"No, I thought it would be funny to trick you."
"We —" He pulled in a shaky breath and exhaled it as laughter. "We're having a baby?"
"Yes, my sweetie-pie, we are."
He leaped out of his chair, threw his arms around me, and hauled me across the desk. My feet had just touched down on the floor when he swooped me up, my feet swinging, and consumed me with the most wonderful, scorching kiss. He pulled away from my lips only enough to grin and say, "I love you, Emery."
"I love you too, Rory baby."
"You were right. We do need to celebrate." He set me down, then grasped me around the waist and flipped me to face the desk. "Donnae move."
I held still, facing away from him, while a series of zipping and swishing noises assured me he was shedding every scrap of clothing. I glanced over my shoulder.