But she didn’t stop him.
He reached up and she lowered a badly shaking hand to his. He took it gently, but firmly, running his thumb over the back of her hand.
“I’d planned this whole evening out. I had so many things I wanted to say to you. But, like every other step we’ve taken . . .” He smiled up at her, stunned, at how utterly easy this was. “You’re the one thing I’d fight for, Kira. The only thing I want to keep.” He fumbled in his pocket, and drew out a small ring box. “I want you to know, every single day, that I mean to keep you. That I’ll do whatever it takes, for us, to make this work. No matter the risk. I can’t think of anything worse than losing you, so ye should know that I’ll fight like hell to keep you. I am in love with ye, Kira MacLeod. Head over heels, with everything I have in me.” He opened the ring box. “Please tell me you’ll marry me. Be my wife, Kira. Take me as your husband.”
Kira took the box with shaky hands, but she wasn’t even looking at the diamond ring nestled inside. She was looking at him, lips trembling, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.
“If it’s no’ to your taste, we can—”
“Come here,” she said, grabbing his wrist and tugging hard. “Come here.”
He straightened and she launched herself into his arms. “I love you, Shay Callaghan. And I can’t think of anything that would make me happier, or more proud, than to be your wife.”
“So, you’ll take me, then?” he asked, pushing her hair from her face, dashing the tears from her cheeks with his fingertips.
“Oh, aye, that I will. Just try and get rid of me.”
He laughed, then he shouted, loud and long, and spun her around.
When they stopped laughing and kissing, and after he’d wiped a bit of moisture from the corners of his own eyes, he said, “I’ve dinner, all set up, but, right at the moment, I’d much rather feast on you.”
“See? We’re really very compatible.”
“I’ll show ye compatible,” he all but growled, then made her squeal by swinging her up in his arms.
He spun them around, intent on heading to the second floor bedroom, but she said, “Wait!”
“What?” he asked, worried that he might have forgotten something important about the whole ritual. He’d wanted it to be a good memory. A perfect one. For them both to hold onto.
“The angel,” she said, unfolding her hand, where she’d had it in a tight grip. “I want to put it on the tree.”
He carried her over to the tree and she picked out a branch, then carefully slid the gold string over the needles, until he was safely anchored.
“First Christmas,” she said, softly, then tipped her head up to look at him. “Ours. And I can’t wait to fill our trees with more.”
“You know,” he said, looking from her to the ornament gently swaying from its perch, then shifting his gaze to the basket, proudly displayed on the entry table, then back to the woman in his arms. “Ye’ve only been here but a moment, and this place already feels more like home.”
“It only took a moment to know it’s a home with you that I want,” she said, pulling his mouth down to hers. And they stood in front of the tree, kissing deeply, again and again, until both were out of breath.
But when he lifted his head, it was to find that rare devilish twinkle in her eyes. “Now,” she said, “I believe there was some mention—a formal mention, no less—about wearing clothes that I didnae mind being torn from my body.”
“Aye, I do believe I was in a rather heightened state of . . . missing you, when I wrote that part.”
“I still can’t believe you told the engraver to write that.”
“Aye, we’ll likely be hearing about it, in the village.”
“You had the invitation done here? I thought maybe the city—”
“No. This is where we live, so this is where we love. I dinnae mind if the whole world knows I plan to ravage the woman who will be my wife. And often.”
“Well, in that case, perhaps you should take me to your bed. It’s possible you’re going to like what you find underneath this entirely disposable dress.” She bit his chin. “A lot.”
They only made it as far as the parlor wall.
Epilogue
“I’ve no idea what it’s all about,” Shay said, from the second office desk. “He only said that he’d like us all gathered at the main offices when he arrived back on the island.”
Roan was seated on the edge of his desk, with Tessa leaning back between his legs. Graham was standing by the window, keeping a lookout for Blaine. Katie had her head bent over Kira’s hand, studying her engagement ring.
“It’s beautiful,” she gushed, then glanced over at Shay. “You’ve marvelous taste,” she said. “It suits her beautifully.”
Shay nodded and Kira smiled. It was a week into the new year, but it felt as if a whole new life had begun. The plans for the school had been approved, with interior renovations already under way. They’d break ground on the additions in the spring, and hoped to have the entire operation running by the summer tourist season.
She and Shay had gone to Edinburgh over the holidays after all, and spent the week between Christmas and Hogmanay with Tessa and Roan, though they’d missed Blaine, who’d begged off at the last moment. It had been a magical time, seeing the city through his eyes, and a truly grounding time for the two of them as well. She’d loved getting to see the other part of his life, and him in his element there. She had been introduced to Shay’s business associates and had a newfound respect for why he did what he did.
They’d initially talked about the idea of his cutting back his time in the city, or leaving the practice entirely. But the more they’d talked about his cases, the more she’d come to realize that he really did have a passion for what he did. It was never a happy time for his clients, but he did his very best to make sure they were able to move forward, claim their new lives as whole as possible. Divorce happened, and Shay knew he was helping those he represented. And Kira knew they were very lucky to have him on their side.
Shay had turned one of the bedrooms in his city flat into a studio for Kira, so rather than spend so much apart, she could accompany him to the city and work there. That would change when the school opened, but she was already enjoying the chance to get away from the island, and reclaim the things she loved about living in the city.
“I wish I knew what the big deal was,” Tessa was saying. “Why couldn’t Blaine have just told you whatever it was on the phone?”
“I couldn’t get it out of him,” Katie said. “And if I couldn’t, you know it couldn’t be done.”
Blaine Sheffield was Katie’s childhood friend, and, very briefly, her fiancé. It had been a prearranged marriage made in hell and Katie had been wise enough, at the last minute, to bail out . . . and run off to Kinloch with Graham, instead. Blaine had followed, but not to win Katie back. It was more a joint retreat to get as far away from the Sheffields and the Annapolis-based McAuleys as he could. At least until he figured out what to do with his newly disowned self for having the nerve to be outed on his wedding day, literally in front of God and everyone, and—Kira was fairly certain—for not manning up and going ahead and marrying Katie anyway.
From what Kira understood, Blaine had started working for Roan, doing some digging on Iain McAuley, who had presented an obstacle, a rather critical one, this time, in Katie’s attempt to marry Graham. The wedding had gone off, but the mystery surrounding Iain McAuley had continued, and Kira knew Shay had wanted no loose ends, so he’d kept Blaine on it. He’d even done work in the city for Shay on some of his cases there. Turned out the man could ferret out anything. So . . . Blaine had found his niche. And he’d stayed.
Roan turned to Shay. “If this is still about the inheritance issue, you’re going to need to officially call him off. I canno’ see how Mr. McAuley has any claim here now or what possible harm—”
Eliza, Roan’s secretary, took that moment to stick her perfectly pinned and coiffed gr
ay head into the office. “Mr. Blaine has arrived.”
Graham turned to look back out of the window, having looked away while Roan was talking. “Sorry. I must have missed it.”
“Well, have him come in already,” Katie urged, smiling. “Why so formal?”
“Oh, I believe that will be made clear momentarily,” Eliza said, eyes twinkling.
The door swung wider and Blaine strolled in, quite natty in a cutaway black jacket and silk striped trousers. A tartan cummerbund and bowtie finished off the look.
Kira thought, with his blond good looks, he pulled it off rather gorgeously, as if he’d been born wearing just that.
“Hullo, Blaine,” Roan said, with zero reaction to Blaine’s state of dress.
“Don’t spoil it,” Blaine said, pointing a finger at Roan, but there was clear affection in his tone.
And despite Roan’s rolling of eyes, Kira knew he liked and respected Blaine, it was just their way. Kira winked at Shay, who gave her the smallest of smiles in return, but otherwise kept his own council, remaining behind the far desk.
“Thank you all for coming,” Blaine announced to the room at large, clearly enjoying his dramatic entrance, but then, from what Kira knew, when didn’t he?
Personally, she thought he was charming and rather adorable.
“As you all know, I’ve been putting my quite extensive and tirelessly dedicated skills to discovering what the real story was regarding one Mr. Iain McAuley.”
“Have ye solved it then?” Graham asked.
“Yes, I have.”
“Thank the Lord,” Roan murmured. “We can all get back to work now. The fear and panic can finally be put to rest.”
Blaine ignored him. “As it happens, there is a simple solution to the mystery of his arrival on Kinloch, and his attempt to usurp the clan lairdship and island chiefdom.”
“Put us out of our misery already—”
“Roan,” Graham gently chided. “Blaine, what is it you’ve found? Anything for us to be concerned about?”
“No, quite the opposite. That is, as long as you don’t mind the fact that Iain will be returning to Kinloch. In fact, he’ll be staying on here.” Blaine pushed the office door completely open. “With me.”
Kira remembered Iain from his brief but very memorable stay on Kinloch the previous fall. He’d have been memorable anyway, with his white smile and dashing good looks.
“Oh my, he’s gone and borrowed from Blaine’s closet,” Roan said.
Kira might have kicked Roan’s toes herself, but then Iain entered, decked out in full, formal clan regalia and she was too busy gawking to kick. He really was quite stunning, though the rows of lace on the front of the white shirt peeking out from the jacket front and at the cuffs wasn’t something traditionally seen. At least on Kinloch.
Iain’s smile was a bit abashed, but he kept his head up. “Hullo, everyone. I appreciate the welcome.” His gaze strayed briefly to Roan, but settled on Graham, then Shay. “I’m sorry for any upset I caused during my last visit. Rest assured, I intend to remain a benign presence from this point forward.”
“Benign?” Blaine said. “I hardly think so.” Then he slid his arm through Iain’s, and looked at the group. “I mean . . . look at him.” The two smiled at each other . . . and the light finally dawned. On everyone.
Blaine faced the group again. “Turns out our stories are somewhat similar. We both come from rich, controlling families. And we both almost made very ill-advised marital choices rather than reaching for our own true happiness.” The two shared another look.
And Kira knew that look.
Roan started to say something, but this time Tessa elbowed him in the stomach . . . and started clapping. “Has there been a wedding?” she asked over the din, as everyone else started clapping for the happy couple as well.
“Well,” Blaine said, “we don’t dress like this every day.” He and Iain grinned again. “Though I think we totally should.”
Everyone laughed and Eliza came in carrying a cake. There were two grooms on top.
“You knew?” Roan said. “How on earth did you know?”
“I always know,” Eliza answered.
Shay came around his desk and tucked Kira by his side as a champagne bottle appeared and everyone started talking at once.
Kira leaned close and whispered, “You’ve been quiet. What do you think of all this?”
“That we should elope?”
Kira laughed and turned in his arms, and kissed him. “What? And deprive Blaine of planning our wedding?”
They were married in the abbey, on Valentine’s Day. There were doves. A carriage drawn by six white horses. A gilded and pillared cake that was slightly larger than Kira’s Fiat.
And a bride and groom who lived happily ever after.
Snow Angel
KATE ANGELL
To the dedicated doctors, nursing staff, and
receptionists at Mission Hills Veterinary Clinic in
Naples, Florida. Dr. Angela Butts, Dr. Amelia Foster,
Karen, Stacey, Chelsie, and Cincy—you have
all my respect and appreciation.
Prologue
Frost Peak Lodge, Aspen, Colorado
Three years ago
The steam rising from the cedar hot tub was pure foreplay. The vapors thickened then thinned on the cold night air. The condensation tickled exposed skin, while jets teased the buttocks.
Allie sat on the circular bench, her body liquid. Her head rested on the rim, her eyelids heavy, her lips parted. The water bubbled, ebbed, and bared her left breast, her nipple hard and peaked as she focused on the naked man across from her.
She knew him only as Aidan. They’d yet to exchange last names. He was a ski stud and hot tub god. A man so cut he could have been a sculpture. Broad chest, buff abs. She licked her lips, imagined tracing the faded tan line on his groin with her tongue.
His gaze was hooded as he stretched his arms along the edges of the hot tub and smiled lazily at her. Could he read her mind? It appeared he had.
“Any regrets?” he asked.
“Not a one,” she said. Aidan was pure female arousal. He touched her with his eyes and made her skin tingle.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I.” Steam licked her lips as she released a soft sigh. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back to the moment they’d met. This holiday would stay with her forever . . .
The mountain. The man. Aidan had courted her on the slopes for three days. He’d given chase, racing her down the advanced trails, pushing her performance. She’d taken their competition seriously. She skied with the speed and purpose of outrunning an avalanche. She had won.
At the end of the first and second day, he smiled, nothing more. He left her at the base of the mountain. Alone.
He’d spiked her interest. She wanted to meet him. On Christmas Eve, he introduced himself as Aidan. He had her at “nice huck.”
She’d shown off for him that afternoon. Halfway down Widow Maker’s Run, she threw herself off the cliff’s edge and caught big air, a thrilling stunt by an advanced skier.
She’d impressed him.
He made her heart pound.
Late afternoon shadows had nudged them to the valet ski check where they handed off their gear. They then entered the lodge bar, The Thirsty Squirrel. She’d ordered hot buttered rum and he sipped two fingers of scotch. Her drink had been served in a green mug rimmed with holly berries. A scripted Merry Christmas wrapped Aidan’s tumbler. Happy Hour drew snow bunnies, ski bums, and serious skiers ready to party.
A DJ Santa spun tunes. “Jingle Bells” had made Allie smile. “I’ve worked ski resorts since I was sixteen,” she told Aidan as they settled on their bar stools and shed their ski jackets. “I was once assigned sleigh rides during Christmas week. I harnessed big Belgium draft horses to a Santa-style sleigh with a curly dash. The route crossed a covered bridge then ran alongside a brook on a winding, wooded trail.
/> “Families were fun. I handed out warm blankets, a thermos of hot chocolate, and gingerbread cookies.” She scrunched her nose. “Couples were another matter. They’d slide beneath the tartan plaids and once we got deep into the forest, the sleigh would start to rock. My job description didn’t include listening to all that giggling and panting. I learned to wear ear muffs.”
Aidan chuckled, deep, vibrant, and richly male. “That gives a whole new meaning to dashing through the snow.”
She agreed. “I refused to take out the sleigh until it was sanitized. The guys in the barn laughed their butts off the first time I showed up with my unusual request. By the tenth cleanup, it was no longer funny.”
“We never know what life has in store for us.”
“My sister would disagree. Beth’s a chirologist.”
He raised a brow. “She reads palms?”
“Beth believes your life is printed on your palm. She taught me the basics.”
She’d waited for him to roll his eyes. He surprised her by turning over his right hand. “Read me, sweetheart.”
She’d traced the line that curved above his thumb, leading downward toward his wrist. “You have a long life line,” she said, liking the warm feel of his skin against her fingertips. He had a man’s hand, strong and lightly callused. “You’re a bit of a daredevil, but you could live to be one hundred. You work hard, but play harder.”
He nodded, and she continued. She ran her fingertip across the top of his palm, just below his fingers, a sensual slide. His palm grew slightly damp. She was making him sweat. “A curved heart line indicates you’re romantic.”
“I do candy, flowers, and prolonged foreplay.”
Her stomach fluttered over foreplay. She could imagine his hands sliding down her body, dipping between her thighs, then inching their way upward. Her breath stuck in her throat. She shifted on the bar stool, aroused by this man.
“The fate line runs from the bottom of your palm near the wrist up through the center toward the middle finger,” she continued. “You have a star at the top of your fate line which means good fortune and great success.”
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