by Sakwa, Kim
“We’ll clean up the mess, love.”
“Nay, ’tis not this mess I apologize for. I’ve been hiding… From myself and from you… ’Tis that I’m sorry for.”
They were the words he longed to hear. He only hoped that in the next few days, she would find the strength to, at last, win her battle.
’Twas something that he knew she must do herself.
Gwen heard the cannon blast that began the race. She stood before the window and waited until she was sure that everyone had left the courtyard, then she slowly took the stairs. Isabelle was the only one who knew she was going and had offered to watch Tristan for the entire morning. Gwen knew it would take her hours to complete the course that her husband had set, but she needed this run.
She needed to cross that line.
It was the spark of hope that consumed her for the last three days, and it would be an accomplishment that no one could take from her. An accomplishment she knew she had to complete. And when she did, she would finally move on.
She wouldn’t hide from her husband or her family anymore. She would tell them when the images or feelings of what Malcolm did to her were too much. Greylen had already made her tell him everything she remembered, when she’d broken down in their bathing chamber after she’d sparred with Gavin. And he’d made her tell him more than once. He took from her every blow, every kick, and every vile insult she described to him. Each moment of fear and despair. She knew it killed him to hear it, yet he insisted. And she knew, too, he did it because he was trying to help her. It’s just who he was.
No one was about as she made her way through the entrance. In fact, it was strangely quiet. As she held the latch of the front doors, she smiled at the steps she’d already taken. No one had seen her take her shorts from the new trunk at the end of her bed. No one had witnessed her tears when she saw that they had been placed on top of everything else, and her running shoes beside them. Greylen must have put them there before everything happened, when he had first proposed this run. She had planned to run with him then. Now she would follow him, though he would never know.
She took a deep breath and opened the doors.
Oh my God.
Her husband stood just beyond the steps with his men by his side. They were eight now, including Alex, and they all smiled as they looked up to her.
Eight of the most incredible smiles all directed at her.
Greylen came forward, resting a foot atop the bottom step as he reached out with his hand. “’Tis your run, wife. We’d not go without you.”
Gwen was speechless. They had known she would come, and they had waited for her. The other men had already left the courtyard, so now it was only her and her men. They were her elite circle this morn, and she was one of them.
She reached out to take Greylen’s hand, and as she stood beside him, he bent to whisper in her ear. “You could have at least worn a shirt over your halter, wife.” She smiled, biting her lip, and he kissed her before swatting her bottom to urge her on. “Set your pace, sweet. This journey we take together.”
And as simple as that, she began. They ran from the gates together, toward the line that symbolized her freedom. Freedom that she now knew her husband had planned only for her.
It was a beautiful September day, and the men cast their shirts aside within minutes. All of the children had taken places along the trail, handing water to the runners as they passed. Halfway through, Gwen smiled at Greylen as she breathlessly called to him, “We’re wealthy, husband, aren’t we?”
“Aye, wife, beyond your wildest dreams,” he answered. Then he laughed that deep rich sound she’d not heard in weeks as he realized her intent. She threw the cup high into the air, letting it shatter upon the ground.
And so became their habit throughout the rest of their run. Instead of gently rolling the pottery to the ground, as they had been doing, they threw them over their heads lost in Gwen’s zeal.
“Go ahead of me,” she called. “You deserve to finish at your own pace. It’s the best feeling ever.”
Greylen nodded to his men and they ran ahead, each of them racing to beat the other. But Greylen stayed by her side. He wore a look that showed his pride in her. They continued alone for the last hour; Gwen’s pace increased as the last hill came into sight. When they reached the top, she stopped short.
All of the men who began with the sound of the cannons that morn, every last one of them, lined the final length to the finish line. Gavin, Duncan, Connell, Ian, Kevin, Hugh, and Alex stood facing their approach, fifty paces before the line that had yet to be crossed. Gwen shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes. They waited for her.
She was shaken out of her stupor when Greylen kissed her hand and pulled her forward. They passed through the line of men and when they reached the seven who waited for her, Greylen stopped by Gavin’s side. “’Tis yours, wife.” He smiled, sweeping his hand in the direction of the ribbon. “Take it.”
Gwen started forward, but after a few steps, she turned back. This would be a win for all of them. It had to be. “I won’t go alone,” she said. “’Tis a win for us all.”
“Is that an order, wife?”
“Aye, ’tis. Now move!”
They all grinned and joined her, making sure that her body broke the ribbon first. Greylen picked her up when they crossed the line, holding her high in the air as his men cheered her victory. Then he lowered her slowly, sliding her down his body until their eyes met.
She held his face, smiling through tears. “I won, Greylen. I won!”
“We’re MacGreggors, Gwen. We always win.”
Greylen sat atop a cluster of natural rock as he looked upon the festivities. ’Twas their fifth anniversary, the anniversary of their birthdays, and each year they would celebrate the same as before. The beach was alive with bonfires as the sun set in the distance. His family and men were all present as they shared in the joy of the night together.
Greylen always began these nights alone, watching from the same perch which he sat upon now. His mother was helping Anna set the tables that they had brought down earlier for a veritable feast. Tonight, however, he had a surprise, one that he couldn’t wait to share with his wife. It had taken two years to acquire everything he needed, a small fortune, but by God, ’twould be worth it.
His ship’s captain had happened by a sorry scene and taken it upon himself to buy a family from servitude. Greylen took the family in without question. He’d seen many such atrocities in his life and his captain had the authority, and means, to act on his behalf. The boon, however, was the family’s heritage and with their help, Greylen had compiled lists of supplies that were finally purchased.
Gwen would have tacos tonight.
And knowing his wife as he did, she’d make herself sick before she was done with them. He’d probably have to hold her hair back as she retched. He’d do it, too, gladly.
His men were talking and drinking by the fire as they chose music. In truth, they were most likely fighting over the songs, but they wouldn’t begin until he joined them. ’Twas the only night they had used Gwen’s iPhone and speaker—and ’twould most likely be the last. But he would hear those notes and lyrics in his head forever.
Gavin and Isabelle were just making their way down the path with their children. The twins had a brother now, Guy, named after their grandsire who’d passed four years ago. Gavin had made peace with his father before his death and now lived on the land that was his birthright. He’d had the entire keep dismantled and rebuilt, an undertaking that lasted three years.
’Twas Montgomery land now, and Gavin was laird of his own small clan. He and Isabelle came to Seagrave every few weeks and would stay for days. Their children would play together, and then sleep in the nursery with Anna while the four adults resumed their practice of late-night suppers in the kitchens, or if his wife preferred, they dined formally in the great hall.
&n
bsp; Gwen always referred to those evenings together as “date nights” and they enjoyed them immensely. They would play card games or chess, and if the women weren’t with child or nursing, sometimes they just got plain drunk. They would sing to songs as they danced and listened to music, laughing so hard at their own antics Anna had no choice but to come downstairs and quiet them. Then they’d only laugh harder.
And then there was Gwen. His wife.
He was always so taken with her. Her beauty and her mind. The life they created together. She had changed so much over the years, and yet she had not changed at all. Her spirit was more alive than ever, and he enjoyed the challenge and banter that was an intrinsic part of their days. But she had adapted to his ways as well.
She spoke only Gaelic now, though somehow, she incorporated her outlandish remarks and phrases in his language. She raised their children just as he’d been reared, with love and compassion. And she never questioned his early training of their son. She had rolled her eyes, however, and quite emphatically, too, when he presented his son with a sword of his own. Tristan’s first birthday seemed the appropriate time to him. And why shouldn’t his son wear war paint when he learned to walk and hold the weapon he had made?
Maybe she really was daft after all.
Gwen was walking through the surf now. She wore a beautiful emerald green gown that set the color of her eyes afire. It stretched across her newly expanding belly as she now carried their third child. She held the hem on each side and also a hand of each of their children. Tristan was on her right and their daughter, Blair, was on her left. They were giggling, no doubt from something outrageously silly that his wife had told them.
His son wore taupe linen breeches rolled to the knee and a white linen shirt, and his daughter, the image of his wife, wore a white jumper embroidered with delicate roses. Her hair was fashioned just as her mother’s, swept behind her head and adorned with ribbons. She was their little angel and he had delivered her himself.
Actually, she was the devil incarnate and her early arrival should have been his first clue. ’Twas yet another night he’d not soon forget.
His mother had gone to visit Gavin and Isabelle to await the birth of their son. And with Gwen’s delivery still weeks away, his wife had insisted that she go. He had been in his study, playing on the floor with Tristan, who had been only two at the time, when he noticed Gwen standing in the open doorway. She bit her lip as she looked at him, which of course made him assume that she wished for a little play of their own.
“Greylen,” she finally said as she remained within the doorframe.
“Aye, sweet. May I be of service?” he asked wickedly.
“I was hoping so.”
“What did you have in mind, love?”
“My water broke, Greylen.”
“Then send for a servant, wife. And be quick about it. I’m ready for whatever your heart desires.”
“I didn’t spill water, husband. The water spilled from me.”
He finally took her meaning, scrambling from the floor with Tristan in his arms, holding him so tight that his son had to pinch him to break him from his stupor. “But ’tis not time,” he cried, clutching the lad again.
“I’d say you’re wrong,” she returned with a sigh and shrug. “But I’d prefer not to argue.”
“What should we do?”
She actually laughed. “I think we should have this baby. Take Tristan to Anna, Greylen. And help me upstairs, please.”
“But she can help.” Was that his voice?
“We don’t need her, Greylen. And Tristan will sit with no one else.”
Tristan was deposited in Anna’s arms minutes later. Then Greylen took his wife’s shaking hand in his own and led her upstairs.
Her labor wasn’t long, and her spirits were very high. Except for the times when her contractions let loose.
“Let me fetch Anna. Please, Gwen,” he pleaded for the hundredth time.
“She’ll come when he’s asleep, Greylen.”
“Your daughter picked a fine time to come.”
“What makes you think this babe is a girl?”
He gave her the look. The one that informed her of her daftness. “Only a girl, and more to the point, only your daughter could have a will such as this. You women will ruin me.”
“Take back your insult,” she demanded, “or I swear, you’ll never get me with child again.”
“Get you with child again? Are you serious?” Good God she was! “Gwen—wife, you think I would get you with child again?” He gave her the look again. “Not only do I sit between your legs…your attributes plain for the world to see. You have the temper of a wild boar, the mouth of a sailor, and have I mentioned—you have the body of a gangly boy…with a melon in your belly.”
She had laughed at his teasing. Then she had screamed as another contraction came and his heart sank to the floor. God bless her, though, she was right. This babe came easily and by the time Anna had entered their chamber, he was holding his precious daughter in his hands, crying just as he had the first time.
He was so lost in thought as he remembered that day three years ago, he didn’t see his daughter approach. But he felt her tiny hand on his cheek before he turned to look at her.
“Papa,” she called in the sweetest voice he’d ever heard.
He smiled and gathered her in his arms. She placed her precious hands on his face, rubbing the whiskers that darkened his features. “Aye, angel?” he asked softly.
“Dance with Mama.”
“Dance with your mama,” he repeated. The children loved to watch them dance, though, they always giggled and covered their eyes as they peeked through their tiny hands.
“Aye, Papa,” she said. “Come dance with Mama.”
“Angel, wild horses couldn’t keep me from dancing with your mama.”
He carried his daughter toward the fire where her brother and cousins were waiting. Where, in fact, everyone was waiting. He sat Blair down next to the children and turned to Gwen. She gifted him with a beautiful smile, and he gathered her in his arms, holding her close as the music began.
The song was the one Gwen had chosen to dance to on the eve of their second anniversary, continuing the tradition they had begun the year before of dancing to commemorate their joining. Every year since, ’twas always “I Could Not Ask For More” by someone named Edwin McCain that they danced to first. She called it their “wedding song.” The lyrics couldn’t have been more perfect, and they whispered the words to each other as he moved her about the fire.
In truth, everything was perfect. And as the full moon cast a glow on the entire shorefront, Greylen stared into his wife’s beautiful green eyes, whispering the words that were theirs alone. “You are forever my love, Gwendolyn.”
“And you are forever mine, Greylen.”
He’d reached for the plane where time has no end…
Captured a dream the gods thought to send…
The soul of his heart…
Her eyes he could see…
And forever she’d be his…for infinity.
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Find out what happens when a famous songwriter who can’t remember a year of her life meets a British spy who has all the answers.
Get your copy of Never Say Goodbye here.
I love that with Greylen, Gwen finds what she thought she’d never have: love…home…family.
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The new contemporary romance with a time travel twist, from #1 bestselling author Kim Sakwa.
Stunning and talented, Amanda Marceau has lost her
memory of the time she spent in 18th-century Britain. Royal Navy Admiral Alexander Montgomery has followed her into the present, intent on restoring it.
Get your copy of Never Say Goodbye here.
EXCERPT
JANUARY 27
Northern California
Six-year-old Callesandra Eleanor Montgomery arranged her favorite dolls and stuffed animals, then sat to pour them some imaginary tea and tell them a story. Her little legs crossed beneath her blanket as she got comfortable, and her fingers brushed back the soft auburn curls that had come loose from her bow. At this time of day, she was supposed to be resting, but Callesandra was a precocious child with lots of energy. And perhaps by choice or need, this story was one she repeated every day without fail.
It started with a stormy night, like all good stories should. Her papa, Admiral Alexander Montgomery, had thrown a party that night. Callie loved when her papa had parties. The men dressed in blue uniforms with big gold braids and the ladies wore pretty ball gowns with lots of lace. Music played all throughout the house and the tables were always filled with her favorite foods, like white soup, meat pies, jellies, and dry cake.
But that night, the night in question, Callie didn’t care much about the party. She wasn’t feeling well. Janey, one of her nannies, kept trying to give her awful-tasting medicine, so to escape, Callie grabbed her three favorite dolls and snuck into her papa’s study. Her papa was busy at his desk, but when Callie came up next to him, he lifted her to his lap and hugged her tight. Her papa always hugged her. Then they heard Janey calling after her, and Papa put his finger to his lips, then moved his legs so she could hide beneath his desk. Callie loved it under Papa’s desk. She had a blanket and toys and, of course, her papa’s legs, so it was warm and cozy. She had just finished arranging her dolls when her papa’s best friend, Gregor, came in. Gregor was her favorite because he always picked her up and spun her around until she was twirling high in the air. But tonight, he sounded very serious.