“Lachlan-what are you-?” Muira stammered, staying quite still were she was, however her husband, still grinning, but tired of her hesitance had caught hold of her hand tugged her out into the fresh air. “Why are we here?” Muira gasped.
“Because it’s on the road to Castle Cameron?” Lachlan said innocently.
“Why have we stopped?” Muira laughed, nervously, excitedly, she hadn’t a clue was her husband was playing at.
“Ah, so you do remember,” Lachlan breathed, leaning close. Muira flushed and took a step back, conscious of all the curious eyes that were watching them from their escort.
“Of course I remember,” she said quickly, looking over at the bank, where she had been sitting with a twisted ankle so many months ago… when Lachlan had first found her, saved her…
Her husband chuckled. “You don’t seem to remember that it was a year ago today,” he grinned. The invitation had been convenient, but he’d planned the timing of their visit to Castle Cameron deliberately.
“Today?” Muira started. “Oh Lachlan-” but she never managed to get past her husband’s name, because to her complete and utter disbelief he had just dropped to one knee in front of her (and their audience!) “What are you doing?” she squeaked, her eyes wide, and her mouth dry.
“Bridghe assures me that women like these grand displays of love and devotion,” he whispered back teasingly, before then turning very serious. “I always thought that I’d have to ask my wife to marry me, I never imagined that she’d do me the honour of choosing me for herself-”
“Lachlan,” Muira whispered shakily, her eyes pricking with tears.
“But I want you to know that I do choose you,” he swore ardently, uncoiling the hand that wasn’t clasping Muira’s, to reveal the most beautiful engagement ring that Muira had ever seen. “I know this is somewhat back to front,” he apologised. “But I’ve wanted to give this to you for months-I was just waiting for the perfect moment.”
Muira couldn’t speak, couldn’t barely even breathe for what felt like a full minute or more, and when she did managed to coordinate her mouth and her tongue, the only thing she seemed to be able to stammer was her husband’s name.
“Does that mean you like it?” Lachlan chuckled, but there was a thread of uncertainty in his voice. He caught hold of her left wrist and splayed her fingers, slipping the band of gold, which was set with a very fine, heavy sapphire, onto her forth digit.
“Oh Lachlan-it’s beautiful,” Muira breathed quietly, admiring the ring as it flashed on her finger, wiping at the tears that were gathering in her eyes with her other hand. “Is it a family heirloom?” she asked curiously, watching as her husband got back up to his feet. He shook his head with a slow smile.
“No, it’s yours and only yours, I had it made just for you,” he told her softly, peppering a kiss against her parted lips, which earned a loud ‘whoop’ from the direction of their escort.
“Lachlan!” Muira gasped. “It’s too much,” she choked.
“Nothing could ever be too much for you,” he smiled. “I love you so much it scares me,” he confessed, speaking in a low, rough growl.
“Oh-I love you too,” Muria croaked, her eyes filling with tears all over again.
“Ride with me?” Lachlan asked, his eyes flashing wickedly.
“But-Maisie, I need-”
“She’ll be all right for a hour or two without her mother,” Lachlan insisted. He still hadn’t released Muira’s hand, and used this fact to his advantage, tightening his grip and leading her in the direction of his horse.
“Lachlan!” Muria squealed. “Everyone’s watching!” she gasped, but her husband didn’t seem to care about that in the slightest.
“Let them,” he whispered wickedly, catching her hold by the waist before lifting her effortlessly onto the back of his great brute of a gelding. Muira opened her mouth to scold her husband again, but Lachlan had just swung himself up behind her, gripping her tight as he urged his horse on, and all notion of objecting failed her.
“This seems awfully familiar,” Muira murmured breathlessly. She snuggled back against his hard body. “You know, it almost reminds me of something…” she teased, but her voice was slightly unsteady, slightly dizzy with her husband’s grand romantic gesture.
Lachlan nodded and pressed a heavy kiss against her neck. “Of the first day of the rest of our life’s?” he purred. Muira twisted and shot him a puzzled little glance. “My life didn’t start until I met you,” he swore, and then he claimed her lips, in a full searing kiss that held the promise of so many more years to come.
The End
A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes) Page 41