She nodded, tears gathering in her eyes. “I do.”
Heart pounding in his ears so loudly he thought he might go deaf, Shay pressed the angel more tightly into her hands, then, with those exact words echoing in his ears, he slid his other hand down her arm to steady her . . . before lowering himself on one bent knee.
Kira gasped, clasping one hand over her mouth, and the other one, clutching the angel ornament, over her heart, as she realized what he was about to do.
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 i
t. 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 gray 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.
If you enjoyed your time on Kinloch, pick up Graham’s story in SOME LIKE IT SCOT, and Roan’s story in OFF KILTER, available at www.kensingtonbooks.com.
Please read on for an excerpt from Donna Kauffman’s upcoming novel, Under a Firefly Moon.
Chapter 1
“You’re breaking my heart, Buttercup.” Cheyenne McCafferty buried her nose in the gelding’s mane and smiled when she heard him snuffle, even as she tried to blink away the moisture that continued to gather at the corners of her eyes. “Yeah, well, you might think the name is an indignity.” She straightened and rubbed her palm gently over the horse’s cheek, looking him straight in his weary, lackluster eyes. “But we both know it’s perfect for you.”
His ears flicked forward and Chey had zero doubt that this horse knew exactly who she was, despite the decade since she’d last seen him. Her heart squeezed in a painful knot as she tried, and failed, not to remember, with crystal clarity, the circumstances of the last time she’d seen this horse.
“Well, I don’t know what son-of-a-bitch let you get in such deplorable condition,” she murmured, working to keep her voice smooth, calm, and the anger tamped down deep, “but thanks to Tory, you’re going to be fine now. And for all the rest of your days, too. I’m going to see to that.” She laughed and sniffled at the same time when Buttercup nodded and snorted. “Exactly. I’m only sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”
Chey didn’t want to think about the reasons why she hadn’t known anything about Buttercup’s life once he and his first owner had left the rodeo circuit all those years ago. She’d eventually left it, too, gone her own way. She didn’t want to think about the reason for that, either.
“You two getting reacquainted, I see.”
Chey dashed at the dampness on her cheeks, unconcerned by the streaks of dirt her gloves left behind. She plopped her cowboy hat on her head, pulled the brim down, but kept her palm on Buttercup’s neck as she turned. She wanted the horse to know she wasn’t leaving. Not now, not ever again. She turned to face her old, dear friend, a sincere smile on her face. “We most definitely are. Thank you,” she said, those two words never more heartfelt. “For letting me know. I realize I should be better about keeping in touch—”
Tory just laughed outright at that, and Chey knew she deserved it.
“As I may have mentioned in my previous, oh, umpteen emails and letters, there are these marvelous inventions called cell phones for folks who hate to write,” Tory teased. “You don’t even have to actually talk to people, either. You can send these amazing things called text messages.”
“I’ve heard about people like you,” Chey pretended to grumble, then chuckled along with her friend.
“I have to say, I was really surprised to h
ear about your new venture. You mentioned you were working on a farm now but neglected to mention that you own part of it, and that it’s a lavender farm, not a horse farm.”
“Part horse farm,” Chey corrected. “My part anyway. I’m working with rescues, giving lessons, doing some training.” She shrugged. “Pretty much the same thing I’ve been doing since I left the circuit.”
Tory just folded her arms and tilted her head to the side, her expression telling Chey she wasn’t buying it. “Sounds like a big, new life venture to me,” she said when Chey just smiled and shook her head. “I’m happy for you, Chey. I know it hasn’t been easy.”
Chey nodded and was relieved when Tory didn’t go any further. It had been a number of years now since she’d left that life behind. A number of years since she’d lost her father, then her brother. And yes, Tory was right, the lavender farm wasn’t just another job. It was a whole new life. One she loved more than anything she’d ever done before, except ride. It was her present, and her future, and she couldn’t be more grateful for all of it.
Tory was the one person who really knew what Chey’s life had been before all that. Victoria Fallon was a former champion barrel racer, just as Chey was. She’d been Chey’s biggest competition on the circuit during their childhood and teen years. Where Chey was the assertive, in-your-face kind of competitor, Tory had been the darling of the circuit. Pretty, always cheerful, a friend to everyone...and a dogged competitor in the ring.
Chey had both envied Tory and respected her, the latter winning out early on. Despite their many head-to-head battles in the ring, they’d become fast friends outside of it. Tory had seen to that.
Chey’s brother, Cody, had been a star rodeo rider, and her father had been a well-known rodeo clown. Tory’s grandparents owned a huge spread in Wyoming and were well known and respected horse breeders. Tory had lost both her parents when she was so young she didn’t remember them, and, as an only child, traveled with an aunt—her late mom’s sister—who competed as well. Chey knew from Tory’s letters over the years that they were all three gone now, and the ranch along with it. Tory’s life was much like Chey’s had been, prior to becoming part of her new enterprise, Lavender Blue. A bit of a vagabond life still, always working with horses, wherever that took them.
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