He laughed outright at that.
“What?”
“I don’t share my work because in my case, it truly is for me. I honestly dinnae care what others think. But then, it’s not my lifeblood like writing is for you.”
She had other ideas about that, but one battle at a time. “I’m trying to let that fear go, really I am. I am writing, and I am finding the joy again. But the pressure is there, the expectation. I can’t hide here forever. I will have to face it at some point. When or if the book ever finally hits the stands, you, your friends, your family, everyone in the village, they all might have to, too.”
“Then they’ll have to decide how to handle it, won’t they? You’re doing it again, living for others. It’s no’ selfish, Bree, to put your needs first. You’re not neglectin’ anyone, you know. It’s no’ your responsibility to oversee how your career affects every living being. It’s sweet and wonderful that you care, and they’ll all know that about you, as I already do. You live here, you write here, and you can be published again here. We’re all adults and we’re all in this together. We’ll figure it out.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Most things worth having aren’t. My brothers and I have held on to property that has been in Chisholm hands for centuries. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s worthwhile. Because the alternative is untenable.” He framed her face. “That’s how I’m comin’ to feel about you. But you have to feel that about yourself, your work, too. I’ll fight for you, Bree. But you have to learn to fight for yourself, or no one can help ye.”
She held his gaze, feeling the truth of his words clear down to her soul. “I guess, the more I have, the more I risk losing. And it scares me, to care that much again. I don’t want to risk losing any of this.”
“All of life is risk. So you do what you must to hang on to what you have, to what you want. It’s all any of us can do. Ye can’t live waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“But—”
“No buts. Do you want what we’ve begun here to continue, Bree?”
“Yes,” she said immediately.
“I do, too. I want you here. I want you in my life. So we go from there. What comes our way, we deal with when it gets here. You’ve made me as aware as possible of what’s out there, and we’ve done our best to protect ourselves. Beyond that, we live for now, not in fear of then. We live for us. No’ them.” He kissed her, so tenderly it made her heart melt. He pressed his forehead to hers and wove his fingers through her hair. “Trust me, Bree. But more importantly, trust yourself.”
He was so certain. Of course, he had every right to be. His whole life had been led on his terms. He took care of business and those he loved, but he made no apologies for living in a manner that made him happy and gave him peace. So ... what made her happy? What gave her peace? The answer, as it turned out, was rather simple indeed.
“I feel like I’m meant to be here,” she told him. “With you.”
Tristan smiled. “Then stay. That’s all you have to do.” Simple. So simple. And maybe, just maybe, it really was.
Epilogue
It was a beautiful, late-spring afternoon. The sun shone through the stained-glass windows of the abbey, cascading a rainbow of color across the excited, chattering congregation.
Tristan stood at the head of the aisle, his hands behind his back, palms sweating. The pews of the centuries-old Chisholm family church were packed with smiling, happy faces, all eagerly anticipating the momentous occasion.
Brodie glanced past brother Reese, his best man, and shot Tristan a grin. “You look like ye’ve had a taste of bad meat, lad. I thought I was the one who was supposed to be nervous.”
Tristan looked at his brother, the groom, who, from all appearances was relaxed and quite delighted by the impending event. “Why aren’t ye?”
Just then, the double doors swung wide and Kat Henderson stepped through the church doors on Alastair’s arm. She was an absolutely stunning vision. “That’s why,” Brodie whispered, voice tight, eyes a wee bit glassy. “Because I’m no fool. I know I’m the luckiest man on earth.”
Tristan did smile at that. “You do have a point.” He felt the hairs lift on his arms as organ music swelled inside the small family abbey, and Kat began her walk down the aisle. His heart picked up speed and he glanced behind him, at Dylan. He was glad their oldest brother had consented to taking part. It had been three years now since Maribel had passed away and he’d come home to Glenbuie. Well past time, they’d all thought, for him to join the land of the living again. They’d all done their best to encourage it, but with little success. But standing in a chapel for a wedding ... well, that tied itself to memories that no number of years could erase, and they’d have each understood if he’d begged off. Tristan had taken it as a hopeful sign when he hadn’t.
Tristan’s gaze shifted across the aisle, to Kat’s two attendants. The maid of honor, Daisy MacDonnell, was a vision her own self, and soon to become Reese’s intended. His brother had confided that he’d only put off asking because he hadn’t wanted to overshadow Brodie and Kat’s joy, along with the rest of Glenbuie, in the planning of their wedding. Daisy’s eyes were misty as she watched Kat’s measured procession toward the altar, and Tristan knew she’d make an equally stunning bride. And that Reese was also a very, very fortunate man.
Daisy had made a huge impact on the village with her business acumen. The Web site she’d constructed for the distillery had not only increased their sales internationally, but had created quite a stir village-wide with the throngs of sightseers who were now flocking to Glenbuie, both for a tour and taste of the family whisky, and also to enjoy the village itself. She’d woven together a ring of connected Web sites for many of the village shops, all extolling the charm and endearing ambience of the town square. The family would benefit further from her creative genius when Dylan finally opened the bed and breakfast. She’d cross-promoted it on the Web ring, and he was already booked for the season.
Which led his gaze to Kat’s other attendant. Bree. His pulse bumped up a little faster, as it always did when he looked at her. Seven months had passed since she’d stepped—or swerved—into his life, forever changing it. And him.
“And here I thought the bride was supposed to be the most beautiful woman in the room,” Reese whispered in his ear.
“Oh, she’s stunning enough, she is,” Tristan said, never taking his eyes from Bree.
“We’re a lot, aren’t we?” he said with a light chuckle, his own gaze clearly on Daisy. “Do ye think the village can take so many Chisholm weddings in such a short period of time?”
Tristan glanced back at him. “How many?”
Reese grinned. “Are ye tellin’ me you’re not contemplating dropping down on one knee yourself?”
His hands shook a little. “I’ll gladly wait my turn.”
Reese just smiled and shifted back in place. “Perhaps I should wager on that.”
Tristan wisely said nothing. Bree had finished her book just last week. The entire village had celebrated the joyous occasion. They’d long since adopted their new resident author as one of their own, and considering they’d each done their share to protect her privacy as the media had eventually discovered her whereabouts and descended en masse, they all felt a bit proprietary of both her and the book itself. Bree had happily obliged and throughout the nightlong celebration had made certain they knew, each and every one, what their support meant to her.
He was so proud of her, so in love with this amazing woman, he’d had to bite his tongue to keep from begging her to marry him right then. He hadn’t. Partly out of respect for Reese’s plans, but mostly because the completion of her novel was cause all by itself for a joyous celebration.
He was willing to wait until the moment was all theirs. Standing where he was now, however, the enormity of that moment truly sank in and took hold. Yes, it made his heart pound; yes, it made his palms sweat. He was rarely nervous, but admittedly, the idea of standing befor
e the entire village and watching her walk toward him down that very aisle ...
Bree looked up just then and smiled at him. Just for him. And he thought about all she’d handled, all she’d overcome, the leap of faith she’d taken, both with him and with herself.
Kat arrived at the altar, and Tristan watched as Alastair gave her hand over to Brodie, who quite eagerly took it in his own, anxious to declare himself to her and begin their new life together.
His gaze went back to Bree. He wanted that. He wanted to declare his commitment to her. Only not here. He wanted to do it outside, on the land he’d also committed himself to. He wondered what Bree would say about taking their vows high up on their rocky bluff. A small, intimate gathering, with just his brothers, their wives, her parents perhaps, standing in attendance. They could celebrate all night in the village afterward if she wanted to.
He listened as Brodie and Kat repeated their vows, unable to tear his gaze from Bree’s. And he realized he’d marry her in the middle of a crowded train station if that was what she wanted.
His hands stopped trembling. His palms stopped sweating. The only thing that mattered was that she say yes. All he had to do was ask her. She chose that moment to wink at him.
Simple, really.
BRAVA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2006 by Donna Kauffman
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