The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie

by Bonnie K. Winn

  She licked her lips, then struggled for words—words that could somehow set things right. But Lancelot was running across the room, flinging himself at Matt.

  At first Brynn feared the dog was attacking him, but then she saw that the only danger Matt faced was being licked to death. Relief made her laugh shakily, easing a fraction of her tension. “I guess he missed you.”

  As soon as the words were out, her tension shot back up to the breaking point. As she met Matt’s gaze, she willed him to know how much she, too, had missed him.

  Matt patted the dog, his countenance somber. “I have some papers for you to sign.”

  Brynn’s heart fractured, along with her hope. The trustee papers. Naturally he wanted her name removed. Erasing her last link with the MacKenzies.

  She tried to be brave, ignoring tears that prickled behind her eyelids as she forced her voice to remain steady. “Of course.”

  He pulled out a folder she recognized. How could everything be so familiar, yet at the same time so strange? she wondered. Blindly she accepted the pen he offered, then the paper he held out.

  “It’s the last line,” he told her.

  Barely able to see, she turned to the drafting table, scrawling her name across the bottom of the page. “I guess that’s it.”

  Matt’s voice changed slightly. “I guess so.” He patted Lancelot again. “Except for one question. Why didn’t you tell me?

  No glib excuses came to mind. Instead, the truth lodged in her conscience and found its way into her words. “I was chasing a fantasy. I didn’t expect to find reality. When I knew...” She clutched at control. “When I knew I’d fallen in love with you, I was convinced I couldn’t tell you the truth. I couldn’t face seeing the recrimination in your eyes—the expression I saw that last night at Eagle Point. So I kept putting it off, logically knowing that would only make it worse. But I didn’t want it to end. And the night it did, I nearly died.”

  “Didn’t it occur to you to give me a choice?”

  She stared at him. “What kind of choice would that be? To accept me as Gregory’s wife or as an impostor?”

  “But it would have been a choice. Instead you shut me out.”

  Brynn’s voice rang with regret. “My relationships have all been in my daydreams. And daydreams aren’t very good at teaching you how real people tick.”

  “I tick whenever I’m around you,” Matt informed her, moving a step closer.

  “You do?” she managed to croak.

  “Sometimes you tick me off.”

  “Oh?”

  “And other times you have my heart ticking like it’s going to bust out of my chest.”

  Hope raised a wary head. “Oh?”

  “And sometimes I’m so ticked I could just shake you.”

  “Oh?” she repeated yet again, unable to utter more than the one-syllable word.

  “And sometimes I’m so ticked I could kiss you until I forget why.”

  Hope was gaining ground. “Oh?”

  “Can’t you say anything else?”

  Numbly she shook her head.

  He closed the last remaining space between them, his arms snaking around her, pulling her close. As their lips met, it was hard to tell who drank from the other with more desperation.

  When they finally broke apart, Brynn’s words were little more than a sob. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “When you walked away from Eagle Point you took the best part of me with you.”

  She sagged against him again. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  “On one condition.”

  She braced herself. “Which is?”

  “That you come home with me.”

  Relief nearly made her crumple. “But your family... What must they think of me?”

  “Who do you think sent me here? Remember, they were the ones who had your address, not me. If I come back without you, they’ll have my hide.”

  “I can’t believe they’d still want me.”

  “You’re one of their own. That didn’t change when you ran away.”

  Gratitude battled with disbelief.

  Matt tipped up her chin. “But you’re not a very astute businesswoman, Brynn.”

  Distracted she gazed at him. “I’m not?”

  “Do you sign everything anyone puts in front of you?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Matt withdrew the paper she’d signed. Her eyes followed his as he held up the document. “This, for example.”

  “Release of trustee—I understand why you’d want that signed.”

  “Are you sure that’s what it is?”

  Confusion clouded her eyes. “Of course. What else would it be?”

  He brought the paper closer. “Maybe you should read it.”

  She was too happy not to humor him. “It says right there: ‘Release...’” Her eyes focused on the words, but her brain refused to accept them. “This is a marriage license!”

  “So it is.”

  She continued to stare at the suddenly all-important paper. “And it has your name and mine on it.”

  “I think that’s the way it works.”

  Brynn was beginning to feel like a salt-water factory as more tears threatened. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “If you think it means I’m asking you to marry me, then it is.”

  She threw her arms around him, crushing the paper as their bodies met. Then she drew back, smoothing the paper with something close to reverence.

  A thought sprouted and she met his gaze. “What if I’d said no?”

  He pushed one hand through his hair as his expression fell just short of abashed. “Then I’d have been pretty embarrassed.” He rocked back slightly on his heels. “The family has a full-tilt ceremony planned for next week at the lodge. They’re just waiting for you to come home.”

  Overcome with emotion, she buried her head against his shoulder. “I don’t deserve you... Or them.”

  Pulling her face back, he lifted up her chin. “You deserve the world. It’s time someone gave it to you. I hope a wedding at Eagle Point is all right. I thought about Ireland, but Dad couldn’t make the trip and I guessed you’d want to share the day with the whole family.”

  “Eagle Point is where I want to start our life together,” she replied. “It’s where it began, and where we belong. Where our family is.”

  The promise shining in her eyes made him want to toss aside the niceties, to savor the intimacy they’d both craved for too long, but he had one more surprise for her. “And Edward’s joining that family.”

  Brynn’s face lit with delight. “He is?”

  Matt smiled at her excitement. “They’re getting married soon. And Eagle Point inherits one of the premier PR men in the country. Edward’s dying to come out of retirement and he wants the resort to be his new project and investment.”

  “I’m happy for them. And you.” Her eyes shone. “This means you’re going for it! You’re taking Eagle Point into the next century.”

  Matt brought her a bit closer. “And you’ll be along for the ride.”

  “To fulfill the promise of the next generation.” she murmured.

  “Something that we’d better start on now.”

  His meaning hit her, along with a wave of anticipation.

  Matt pulled the drape—enough to give them privacy, but not far enough to shut out the few remaining rays of sun that clung to the short winter day.

  Moving away from the window, they clung together, sharing their first urgent kisses. Then they slowed the fevered pitch, savoring each touch, each new discovery.

  Matt had waited for so long...he knew he could take his time. His hands molded around her shoulders, pushing aside the portrait collar blouse she wore. As he’d imagined, her skin was like alabaster, the stuff of fantasies he could now play out. His fingers lingered over her fragile collarbones, able now to study her beating pulse at will. As it had before, it spoke of her excitement, as did the flush that glowed from her ivo
ry skin.

  Matt met her gaze, murmuring endearments as he kissed her eyelids, then caressed the long column of her neck. Her wild curls danced between them, scattering silk over his hands, spreading the scent of captured flowers.

  Brynn accepted each touch, strained toward every caress. No daydream had prepared her for the reality, for the waves of sensation his slightest touch ignited. How could there be such sheer joy between two people? How could she have been so blind to this wonder?

  Matt gently unfastened the row of tiny buttons that held her cotton shirt together. The flush beneath her skin grew, seeming to glow in the deepening shadows of dusk.

  Breasts, covered in satin and lace, rose with the rapid breaths she took. Although no false sense of propriety stood between them, he knew she was unschooled in the ways of love. He wanted this experience to be one of joy—the first of many they would share.

  Hesitantly her hands ventured toward him, her fingers reaching for the buttons of his shirt. Each sweet, untrained movement was torture. When all of his buttons were freed, the tails of his shirt loosened, his breathing had deepened along with his need.

  Her fingers curled over the muscles of his chest, the silkiness of his skin. Reminded of buttered steel, she continued her exploration, curiosity and desire propelling her motions.

  Unable to repress a groan, Matt bent toward her breast, cupping the still-covered mound in his hand. When she responded with a shudder, he gently kissed the breast, letting the smooth fabric abrade her skin as it dampened and moved over her nipple.

  “Matt,” she pleaded, not knowing what she asked for, yet knowing he could somehow guess; and certain he could satisfy.

  He opened the clasp on her bra, allowing her breasts to slip free. Exposed to the air, her already swollen nipples hardened further and he bent to taste them.

  Brynn arched toward him in delight. As his mouth worked its magic, she felt an unfamiliar dampness at her core.

  Then his hands roamed over her torso, tantalizing her as they danced over her ribs, to her waist, past her hips, continuing downward. His clever fingers skimmed over her skin until she wondered that she didn’t explode from his touch.

  Matt filled his eyes with the sight of her, his fingers with the satin of her skin. As she moaned in pleasure, he slipped her blouse off, tossed away her bra, then shrugged away his own shirt before reaching for the fastening of her jeans. Something deep inside stirred as he realized she still adopted the clothes he’d asked her to wear.

  Closing his mouth over hers, he brought their bare chests together, luxuriating in the feel of her breasts, acquainting her with the feel of his naked skin. When her body moved of its own accord, sensuously weaving against his, his control slipped. Sinking his teeth into her shoulder, he nipped gently, eliciting another low sound of satisfaction.

  He reached again for the snap on her jeans, then slid her zipper free. She didn’t protest as he quickly removed the jeans. Picking Brynn up, he carried her to the bed and together they slid against the mattress. For a moment he let himself savor her long legs, as shapely as he remembered. Then his hands traveled over them, cupping the firm flesh of her calves, his mouth reaching to tease the tender skin behind her knees.

  Her cries of pleasure punctuated each movement, each new discovery. As he felt her hands fumble at the fastening of his jeans, he sensed both her hesitancy and desire.

  He held her mouth in a deepening kiss, scraping his tongue over hers, tracing each curve, each undiscovered recess. While he kept her lips captive, distracting her, he unfastened his jeans, breaking away from her only long enough to dispatch them.

  Great expanses of naked skin now yearned to touch, to feel, to meld.

  Brynn’s eyes roved over his beautiful body, wanting to caress, wishing to pleasure. When her unskilled touch made him shudder, a shaft of pure feminine power shot through her, at once amazing and satisfying her. So she, too, could make him feel this intense pleasure. Pleasure so acute she thought she’d die from the wanting of it.

  Then his hands began a new journey, teasing the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, cradling the curve of her hips. The possibilities in her mind expanded, then leaped out of control.

  Matt teased the last wisp of silk she wore. His fingers danced over the curved valley of her waist, then slipped beneath the fragile silk barrier. Despite his growing hunger, he kept his moves gentle, not wanting to frighten her. But when he cupped her heat, she arched against his hand, welcoming his touch.

  Then her lips were near his ear, her breath a whispered caress, her murmurs an invitation—one he accepted, his fingers encountering her engorged flesh, the moist welcome that signaled her readiness. Almost immediately her body collapsed in shudders, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her words a wonder of trembling.

  “I didn’t know,” she breathed.

  His eyes met hers, demanded that she focus on his. “You still don’t.”

  Stripping away the scrap of lacy panties, Matt pulled her close, letting her fully feel his arousal. He heard her expected gasp, but her low moan of desire surprised him. Tracing the contours of her face, he felt her hands return the caress, then bracket his jaw.

  She had waited for this moment, dreamed of it. She wasn’t going to let her shyness stand in the way. “I want you, Matt. All of you.”

  The last of his control was hanging by a quickly dissolving thread. He wanted this to be special, memorable, enjoyable. Yet the demons of his own desire drove him and his patience was slipping away.

  Gently he parted her thighs, feeling her brief initial resistance fade away as he cradled her between his legs. Poised to enter her, he reclaimed her mouth, then her gaze. “I love you, Brynn Magee.”

  Pure pleasure split her face as he deepened gentle strokes, claiming her in a ritual as ancient as life itself. Instinctively, her long legs curled over his back, their strong muscles holding him close.

  Brynn wondered that she didn’t die of the exquisite joy. The brief pain was already forgotten as she felt the building pressure, the bursts of incomparable wonder, the race toward an edge she didn’t yet recognize.

  Then her body bowed, surprising her as a whipcord of ecstasy struck... stunning her as it was followed by a flood of shuddering and inexplicable satisfaction.

  Matt reached for the pleasure and found it. Her body quivered helplessly beneath him, snapping his control, thrusting him over the edge, carrying her with him.

  Moonbeams pushed past the parted drapes, casting a silver glow that battled with the golden embers of the fire. Gentle fingers of woodsmoke drifted over them, along with the light from the evening stars, bathing them in shared wonder.

  The magic of the early moonrising combined with their joy, caging their wild hearts, capturing them for all time.

  Epilogue

  Brynn stared out at the wild cliffs of Moher, glints of blue fire radiating from the diamond on her left hand. The previous day she and Matt had exchanged wedding vows—their marriage beginning appropriately on New Year’s Day. A day of new starts, new resolutions and new promise.

  A day that had convinced her for all time that the MacKenzie family completely welcomed her. A healthier-looking Frank and a happily teary-eyed Ruth had called her “daughter.” Miranda, with Edward by her side, had simply said: “Welcome home.”

  Then, with overwhelming generosity, they’d presented her with the Irish lace wedding dress once worn by Gallagher MacKenzie’s young bride. A dress that fit Brynn as though it had been sewn just for her. A dress she could use to initiate her own family traditions. It was something old.

  Heather, the one so very close to Gregory, had given her a beautiful golden heart locket engraved simply with the word Sister. The gift signaled her acceptance. And provided something new.

  Ruth, apparently overcome by an imp of her own, had lent Brynn the garter she’d worn on her own wedding day. As Ruth grinned and then winked, Brynn saw a glimpse of her own future—with its promise of the unexpected. And she’d happily a
ccepted something borrowed.

  And dear Miranda had made a gift of her grandmothea’s diamond earrings—the ones that sparkled with blue flame. Ones that would forever be tied to the Harvest Ball so meaningful to them both. A very special something blue.

  Matt, who’d stunned her with the beautiful solitaire, managed to reduce her to tears with his simple contribution to the ceremony. He’d chosen a local guitarist to strum the notes of “Dream Weaver”—a song that suited Brynn to perfection. A magical day from beginning to end, she wondered if it had been spun of those dreams.

  While Matt had explained his choice of Eagle Point for the ceremony, he’d saved their honeymoon as a surprise, giving her a piece of the legacy she had so craved. Now they traveled down the west coast of Ireland, her heart swelling as she imagined her grandmother smiling down from heaven, pleased that her “lass” had made this pilgrimage.

  Pinching herself until she was nearly black-and-blue, Brynn could still scarcely believe Matt was hers. Remembering how the family had welcomed her back like a prodigal daughter, complete with their version of the fatted calf, she had to blink back a tear. Brynn didn’t know what she’d done to deserve such happiness, but she knew she would never take it for granted. She planned to embrace each day and hold on to her happiness with a firm grasp, never allowing it to become an elusive quest.

  Matt slipped an arm around her waist. “Happy?”

  “Almost unbearably so.”

  He pointed ahead to the rugged sweep of raw rock that soared toward the sky, the spray of the ocean challenging each elements-battered cliff. “We could have our picture taken there—it’d make quite a backdrop.”

  Her eyes danced as they met his. “The first picture in our own wedding album?”

  He turned her toward him, his fingers lacing through her wildly blowing hair. “You’re way behind, love.”

  “I am?”

  “I started taking pictures of you the day we met.”

  Surprised, she reached out to touch the familiar planes of his handsome face, the intriguing dent in his chin. “You did?”