“Yer oldest son is unmarried.”
“Aye.”
Skye didn’t like where this was going and she was sure her uncle wouldn’t either, but some sort of recompense was called for.
“My daughter is in need of a husband.” The MacLean’s gaze pierced her uncle’s.
“Father. Isobel will—” Ross objected but his father cut him off with a quick, “psst,” then he looked back to her uncle.
“Do ye agree?”
Outrage, then resignation flashed in her uncle’s eyes. “Aye. ’Twill bring our clans together.”
Skye wanted to protest. She’d overheard Neil and Ross discussing his sister and knew she was far from the gentle sweet maiden that her cousin would prefer to replace the docile wife he’d lost shortly after his marriage. As her uncle had no choice, she bit her tongue.
“Then ’tis time I be getting back to my people before they attack yers. I’ll send word with arrangements after they have been made.” The MacLean stood and turned toward Ross.
“The wedding will be here.” Ross’s father froze then turned back at her uncle’s words.
For a moment it looked as if the MacLean would object, but her uncle continued, “My son will one day be the MacDonald. He will marry on the Isle of Skye in front of his clan.”
A few tense moments passed as the MacLean stood silent. “Aye, ’twill do.” Turning toward the door again, he called over his shoulder, “Ross, how do we get out of here?”
“Angus, get the MacLean’s horse and see them safely across to the other shore,” her uncle commanded the man who was standing just outside the door.
The MacLean nodded and strode from the room, apparently having had enough of her uncle’s hospitality. Ross nodded at them and followed his father from the room.
After they had disappeared into the hall, her uncle’s steady gaze turned to her and Brodie, who had come up to stand beside her.
“Ye wish to marry?”
“Aye, Uncle. I told ye.” She took Brodie’s hand and entwined her fingers with his.
“Ye are a man now and not the child who came to take her the first time. Do ye swear to love and protect her with everything in ye?”
“Her happiness and safety are all I want.” Brodie’s hold tightened on her hand.
“Then to the chapel. The priest is ready, but ye will be staying here until ye are healed, and I’ll have a group get ye home when ’tis time. And no more spying. Yer first duty is to my niece now.”
Brodie paused and she exchanged a knowing glance with him. Guessing that Lachlan must have told her uncle Brodie’s secret, she now understood the amusement that had shown in his eyes on the beach.
Brodie nodded to her uncle and somehow kept the smile from his face. His dimples peeked through his impassive gaze, and she suppressed the urge to giggle like a little lass herself.
Returning her uncle’s gaze, she asked, “Can I have a few moments alone with Brodie first?”
He nodded and pushed back, “Dinnae keep me waiting long. I may change my mind.”
“Aye.”
He marched from the room. When the door clicked closed, still holding his hand, she asked, “Is this what ye want Brodie?”
“Have ye gone daft, love? ’Tis the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” His free hand came up to caress her cheek.
“Even if it means ye will never have a bairn?”
“I told ye I would be happy just to have ye.”
“I am so sorry that I didnae come to ye. That we lost all these years.”
“Shh, love, ’tis done. What is in front of us is all that matters now. Will I be enough for ye?”
“Ye are the only thing that will ever be enough for me. I love ye.”
“I love ye, too.”
Epilogue
Scotland, March 1645
Skye’s and Brodie’s house
Brodie kicked the snow from his boots on the doorframe as he stepped over the threshold. The smell of cooking meat and fresh bread drifted through the air, making his belly rumble as he moved across the room to his own slice of heaven. The only good that had come from Skye’s years with her uncle was this amazing talent she had developed in the kitchen.
He spent many a night eating dinner with extra mouths at the table and only sometimes felt guilty over kicking people out of their home to be alone with his wife.
Raghnall met him with whimpers and a nonstop wagging tale. The dog just barely reached his knees, but some nights it greeted him with acrobatic jumps that had him questioning whether the dog was part bird. Raghnall’s happy eyes didn’t leave its master as he ran circles around him, proudly showing off a bone Skye must have given him. It protruded from one side of its mouth as the dog kept a firm grip on the coveted prize.
It bumped into a chair, and Skye’s cat hissed at the disruption to its bathing routine. He didn’t know what she saw in that fluffy, big-eyed creature from hell, but he didn’t care. The happiness in his wife’s eyes when she sat with it cuddled in her lap made the little rat with fur worth keeping around.
Skye rounded the corner with Darach on her hip. His heart soared at the sight of their babe in her arms. As the wee lad had grown in her belly, he’d been afraid of losing her or the babe, but it had been an easy pregnancy and birth.
A boy with blond curls and green eyes that matched hers. They had named him after her father.
“There ye are.” She bounced over and gave him a quick kiss on the lips and shivered.
“Ye are so cold.”
“Ye will have to warm me, love.” He liked the blush his teasing always brought to her cheeks.
“Nora brought some venison from Tormod. How was yer day?”
Smiling, he reflected on the ease with which Skye and Nora had settled into a friendly relationship, even sometimes planning excursions together. “’Twas a long day, but I’m happy to be home.”
“Can ye take Darach? I would put him down, but he keeps walking into the kitchen, and I dinnae want him near the fire.”
“Aye.”
She waited while he bent over to take his boots off and place them by the door. “Sit. I’ll bring in the food.”
He strolled over to the table as Darach gripped his finger. “Did ye take care of yer mother today?”
She whirled back into the room. “He kept me running around everywhere is what he did today.”
Setting down a tray of meat and potatoes, she then eased into the chair opposite to join them. He helped himself and she cut into a pastry he hadn’t noticed on the table. She put a large slice on her own plate. “Ye made a tart?”
“Aye, would ye like a slice?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, but piled a large piece on a plate and slid it toward him.
“Ye havenae made one of these in a while.”
He took a bite as he bounced Darach on his knee. The sweet filling hit his tongue and his senses sparked. He froze and managed to finish chewing before he swallowed. “’Tis raspberry.”
She gave him a sideways grin, and her bonny eyes lit with mischief. “Aye, Maggie has found some way to grow them this time of year.”
He inspected it with his fork and steaming red berries with a cream mixture seeped from the flaky pastry. “’Tis what ye always wanted when ye had this one in yer belly.”
His heart sang as his eyes rose to the prettiest smile he’d ever seen.
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Acknowledgments
Special thanks to:
Robin Haseltine, my editor, for her continued faith in me and all the hard work and time she has dedicated to making the Highland Pride series the best it can be.
Jessica Watterson, my amazing agent, for being my advocate and sounding board. I’m truly blessed to have found you.
My best friend, my husband, for his love, support, and for understanding when I get that far of
f look in my eyes and lose track of our conversation as stories come to life in my head.
My kids, for encouraging me and being proud of what I do.
Jen, Kellen, Amy, and Kelli for our friendship as we stay fit and enjoy life together.
My writing tribe, for sharing their enthusiasm, love of the craft, and wisdom along with keeping me motivated and on track. I will always be eternally grateful to: Harper Kincaid, Denny S. Bryce, Jennifer McKeone, Robyn Neeley, Nadine Monaco, Eliza Knight, Madeline Martin, and everyone in WRWDC.
And for you, the reader who picked up this book and gave me a chance to share a piece of my heart.
About the Author
Lori Ann Bailey is a winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award and Holt Medallion for Best First Book and Best Historical. She has a romantic soul and believes the best in everyone. Sappy commercials and proud mommy moments make her cry.
She sobs uncontrollably and feels emotionally drained when reading sad books, so she started reading romance for the Happily Ever Afters. She was hooked.
Then, the characters and scenes running around in her head as she attempted to sleep at night begged to be let out. Looking back now, her favorite class in high school was the one where a professor pulled a desk to the center of the room and told her to write two paragraphs about it and the college English class taught by a redheaded Birkenstock-wearing girl, not much older than she, who introduced her to Jack Kerouac. After working in business and years spent as a stay-at-home mom she has found something in addition to her family to be passionate about: her books.
When not writing, Lori enjoys time with her real life hero and four kids or spending time walking or drinking wine with her friends.
Visit Lori at www.loriannbailey.com. Or, follow her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/Lori.Ann.Bailey.author.
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Highland Redemption Page 19
