Leif shot his brother a look of gravity and rejected the thought of cleaning up. He sped from the bathroom and down the hall, his heart in his throat at the thought of missing his only chance to catch Lorraine before she left Ireland.
Kristoff called to him as he fled out the door. “What the hell are you doing?”
Leif smiled as he leapt from his porch and raced up the road. “I’m going to marry Lorraine.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Lorraine zipped her suitcase and looked at Patrick. She had noticed from the moment they awoke, he checked his watch repeatedly. They had eight hours left before they had to be at the airport, though he acted as if they had only minutes.
“Are you ready?” he asked solemnly.
She had every reason not to be ready, given she was forced to leave without saying goodbye to Leif. In truth, she expected him to at least be a gentleman and say his farewells. She’d hoped with all that was in her, to see him once last time. But he never showed.
Patrick had encouraged her to be patient, to let Leif come to his senses and return on his own accord. She’d put all faith in that little thread of hope, only to feel it snap as she closed her eyes to sleep last night.
The past three days were the longest of her life, her dreams of Leif running to her and taking her in his arms shattered. She had no hope left, her heart broken in pieces. Devastated, she’d have to hold it together as she boarded the plane, leaving behind the very man who’d made her feel whole again.
Patrick embraced her around the shoulder and ushered her toward the door. “Come on. Flanagan’s waiting outside with his carriage. He’ll take us to the pier.”
No matter what she felt for Leif, she had to let him go. She couldn’t force him to love her and she didn’t want him to pretend. Perhaps, it was better she didn’t see his face as she left the isle. Knowing her, she would run to him and beg for his love, a pathetic sight indeed.
Fighting back her tears, she walked with Patrick toward the door.
Without warning, the door burst open and Leif rushed in, his blue eyes, boring into hers. He was dirt-ridden, from head to toe, and he looked larger than she remembered, his shoulders wider as he filled the space of the doorway. His hair was dingy and soiled. A three-day old beard, dusted with dirt, shadowed his jaw, foretelling the days he’d spent in carelessness. Though his body appeared thinner, as if he’d not eaten in weeks, his stature befitted a man not to be messed with.
Her heart beat in her chest as fast as a humming bird’s wings. For once, she feared him, intimidated by his unexpected presence. She swallowed, preparing to hear him lash out at her for all the hurt she’d caused him. All the trouble she’d brought into his life. She anticipated hearing him carry on about how he regretted ever meeting her and how he wished like hell he wouldn’t have allowed her into his heart. Spouting ‘good riddance’ and ‘sayonara’ in a sarcastic, cold-hearted tone.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stood there, trembling. He looked as if he forgot how to speak.
“We were just leaving,” Patrick said snidely.
Leif’s eyes deflected from her to Patrick and back again. “Please don’t leave.”
Lorraine melted as his plea came out in a weak whisper, hardly fitting for a man of his physique. Every part of her wanted to concede with his pitiful demand, but Patrick was not as generous.
“You’re too late. I’m taking her home.”
“Her home is here, on Inis Mór. It always has been.”
Lorraine caught the subtle reference Leif made to the past, her past. She squeezed Patrick’s hand, unaware that she had done so until he glanced down between them. She tried not to get her hopes up, looking to her best friend for guidance.
Patrick returned his focus to Leif. “It’s not that simple and you know it.”
Leif breathed slowly, preparing his words. “I know who am. I’m Dægan, son of Rælik.”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “They’re mere utterances of declaration, spoken words which entitle you to nothing.”
Leif ignored him and continued. “I fell in love with you on the River Shannon and we married on the cliffs of Inis Mór within the fort walls of Dún Aonghasa.”
“Again, Leif, you’re only stating words Lorraine wants to hear. It’s over. We’re leaving.”
In seconds, Leif grabbed Patrick by the throat and spun him around, throwing him out the door. Lorraine hadn’t seen that coming anymore than Patrick had, and she backed up as Leif turned the lock.
Facing her, his eyes softened immediately. “I don’t mean to frighten you, Rain.” He stepped toward her slowly, gazing over every inch of her body. And not out of lust, but of scrutiny, as if he were making an identification.
She felt uncomfortable enduring his thorough inspection, and stiffened at the approach of his dirty hands. Having no where to go, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his embrace.
“Why are you so filthy, Leif? And why do you look at me this way?”
He smiled, as if pleased by her questions. “Can a husband not drown in his wife’s eyes whilst she holds him?”
His familiar words sent shivers down her spine. They were the same ones Dægan offered after he’d saved her from his twin brother. Was it possible Leif remembered?
She hesitated to believe so.
“Look at me,” he whispered to her. “Listen closely to what I say to you, for there is not much time. You first gave yourself to me in Luimneach. And I took you not until you begged it of me. And the next morning, I thought you to regret it, but you did not. I can describe every part of you if you want me to. I can tell you how sweet your tongue is after you sucked the sugar from my finger. I can count on one hand the times I made love to you and wish on my very life ‘twere more. I can speak of the solitary freckle just beneath your right breast. The first time you quickened from my mouth and the tightness of your legs around my head, for only a husband could know such intimate things. I am he. I am your husband. I want naught more than your love and trust right now and by the great God in Heaven, I wish I could steal it. But I will not. I will wait forever and a day for you. Listen to my words, Mara for I speak as a lost sheep. Find me. Find me in your heart…I just might be there.”
Lorraine stood frozen in Leif’s arms. He had addressed her as Mara and eloquently spoke the very words her husband, Dægan, had poetically uttered that one fateful day as fluently as he’d made them up himself.
No one was there the day Dægan had revealed that lyrical list of details. No one but she could understand the significance of it. No one, save Dægan.
With tentative hands, she cupped Leif’s grubby face and gazed into his eyes. “Is it really true? You remember?”
He clasped her hands in his and kissed her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers. “Aye, my lady,” he muttered before dropping to his knees. “I love you. Like the relentless rains from the Erin sky, my love will always be! For you, Mara, and no other!”
Again, her heart leapt as he rattled off sentimental words from their past. There was no doubt Leif finally remembered being the Norse warrior from a previous life. She could see it in the tumultuous storm of his eyes. She’d drowned in those eyes enough times to know.
“But how?” she asked. “What made you believe?”
He stood up and slipped a leather strap over his head, handing her a dusty leather satchel. At first, she didn’t recognize it, wondering how she’d missed seeing the shoulder bag hanging from his side the whole time. Then it struck her—that beautiful effervescent scent of rain.
“You found it?” she gasped, unable to believe her own eyes. “You dug up St. Ciarán’s book?”
“Yes,” he breathed tiredly. “It was right where you said it was.”
Lorraine looked at him upon hearing the fatigue in his voice and finally understood the layer of dirt covering him. “Is this what you’ve been doing for the past days? Digging?”
He nodded. “I had to. You were going to leave me, and I l
oved you too much to let you walk out of my life.”
“Oh, Leif,” she cried, hugging him tightly. He picked her up and she buried her face in the solid wall of his chest, relishing in the feel of his arms around her. She could care less about the flurry of dirt that puffed from his shirt. The strength of his unyielding grip renewed her as a woman of worth. She felt precious in his embrace, savoring the grandeur of being held by her charismatic hero. Her heart sung with joy.
She felt Leif’s lips upon her neck, the warmth of his mouth tasting her skin just below her earlobe. He trailed his kisses along her jaw until his lips met hers. The warmth of his soft lips made the tension and stress of the last few days disappear. She felt nothing but a thousand years worth of stored love being poured out of this one sensual kiss. Their tongues joined and a fiery passion ignited. She missed this, all of this. His moods of fire and ice, the unpredictable shift of tenderness and greed. This was the essence of her Norse warrior and he was all hers. It was as if time had never separated them, continuing where they had left off.
“I could die right now—right here—and be a happy man.” The huskiness of his voice played a sinful melody in her ears. The heat of his breath singed her all the way to the bone. He set her on her feet and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, gazing into her eyes.
“Marry me, Rain, and make me a jubilant man.”
****
Lorraine stood in front of the mirror as Maggie applied the finishing touches of island flowers in her hair. She couldn’t believe this day had come. Only a few hours ago, she had thought her time in Ireland was coming to an abrupt end. Now, she was about to leap into forever, and live out the rest of her days, on an island she held dear, with a man she’d dreamed about since she was a little girl.
Not many could boast finding their soul mates within a lifetime. She was blessed with finding her soul mate in two lifetimes. It was, indeed, a small blessing of huge proportion.
“There,” Maggie said, examining her work. “What do you think?”
Lorraine gazed over the way Maggie had curled her hair in loose ringlets, a crown of purple and yellow blossoms adorning her forehead. Reminiscent of the first time she’d married, the flowers added the right amount of color to her simple, elegant gown. As before, nothing about her attire was elaborate, but it was perfect nonetheless. She didn’t need complexities or high dollar appeal to make this day special. Just knowing Leif was waiting for her, in the very spot they had once pledged their love and fidelity long ago, made her heart sing.
She turned and looked at Maggie. “I love what you’ve done. Thank you.”
Maggie smiled and began fiddling with Lorraine’s hair a bit more. “You know, you and I are very fortunate women. We’ve fallen in love with exceptional men, don’t you think?”
Lorraine listened intently, eager to hear more of the woman’s praise, more importantly, the way she felt about Kristoff.
“I know you may not know this, but Kristoff and Leif came to my rescue a few nights ago.” Maggie’s smile faded. “I’d been attacked by two men outside the pub and if not for Leif and Kristoff’s bravery…well, let’s just say I was able to walk away with my dignity because of them.”
Lorraine was speechless. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I had no idea.”
“I’m not sorry,” Maggie concluded. “If not for that night, my brother would have never seen the side of Kristoff that I knew was there all along. Nor would he have allowed me to see him again.”
Lorraine watched Maggie’s head drop, her emotions threatening to burst. She grabbed the woman’s shoulders gently and looked her in the eye. “Kristoff likes you very much, too.”
An uncertain smile flitted across Maggie’s lips. “He does?”
Lorraine nodded. “I know he does.”
A pounding at the door interrupted their quiet conversation. “Come on, ladies!” Kristoff yelled on the other side. “We’re burning daylight here.”
The two women laughed. “We’re coming,” Maggie shouted back.
“Well, make certain you save some of those flowers for the funeral tonight. My brother’s going to kill me for not having you at the fort on time.”
Maggie bit her lip. “Are you ready?”
Lorraine took a deep breath and smiled. “I’ve never been more ready.”
Unexpectedly, Maggie hugged her. “Thank you for allowing me to be here. I know we don’t know each other very well, but I’m hoping time will change that,” she said, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the man behind the door.
“I’m very certain we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.”
The door flew open with an impatient Kristoff glaring at both of them. “Seriously girls, if you don’t hurry up—” Upon seeing Lorraine, his eyes softened and a slow grin teased his lips. “Wow. You look beautiful, Rain.”
“Of course, she does,” Maggie reprimanded. “She’s the bride. She’s supposed to make every other woman in the world pale in comparison to her on this day. Now, roll your tongue back in your mouth and help us to the carriage.”
Kristoff stumbled on his feet, making haste to assist Lorraine as he’d been commanded. He offered his arm and Lorraine fed hers through, smiling at his gentlemanly demeanor. It befit the scoundrel well, and she knew he was eating it up.
Kristoff cleared his throat soundly, gesturing toward his other arm free for Maggie. “I’m assuming you’re attending this wedding with me, right?”
Maggie rushed to his side and took hold of him, enamored with her tall blond escort. “I didn’t get all dressed up for my brother, you know.”
“Speaking of,” Kristoff interjected as he proudly guided them both out of the Man of Aran Cottage to the decorated horse and cart outside. “You think Flanagan will let me sneak a kiss?”
“Have you forgotten who my brother is?” Maggie warned. “He was very generous to let you score a date with me. I think you’d be wise not to push your luck when it comes to him.”
Kristoff smile turned devilish on appearance. “Oh, you’ve got a lot to learn about me, Red.”
****
Leif stood at the cliffs of Inis Mór, within the nostalgic ruins of Dún Aonghasa, nervous. He had no reservations about marrying Lorraine. His concern was she had failed to show up yet. He had given Kristoff strict instructions to escort her to the fort by horse and carriage. Surely his brother wouldn’t let him down when it mattered most.
He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes late. He sighed uncontrollably, hearing Patrick laugh beside him. “What?”
Patrick shook his head. “Just never thought I’d ever see the day when Dægan Ræliksen wasn’t so sure of himself.”
A gust of wind assaulted them and Leif let Patrick’s words be taken with it. “What if she doesn’t show? What if she’s changed her mind?”
“It’s the wedding she’s waited for all her life,” Patrick soothed. “She’ll be here.”
Leif tried. Exhaustively, he tried to remain confident that Lorraine wouldn’t leave him standing at the altar, only to find himself fretting about other things. “How do I look?” he asked, smoothing his hands down the front of him.
Patrick looked him over, regarding the bearskin cloak Leif had chosen to don across his shoulders. “Ridiculous.”
“Shut up,” Leif retorted. “Rain will appreciate it.”
“She’ll be the only one.”
Leif grimaced as he was forced to stand beside the man who loved Lorraine as much as himself. If it were his choice, he would have rather proceeded with the wedding without Patrick’s presence. But it wasn’t his to make. Lorraine had asked him to witness the union and he couldn’t argue differently, given the effort Patrick had made to get them together.
“I’ve been thinking,” Leif murmured.
“About?”
“About us. About you. It doesn’t seem fair that we’re keeping a secret from Lorraine. I think she’d like to know who you are. She has a right to know—”
“Why not?”
“Because I know her. She’d feel like she’d have to make a choice.” His eyes darkened. “Do not make her choose, Leif. Believe me, it’s not that I’m afraid she’ll pick you over me. I know who her choice would be and I can live with that. But it’s not fair to make her choose at all. Look,” he said, softening his voice. “I’ve spent two lifetimes thinking about this. All I’ve ever wanted was to make her happy. Don’t spoil my only chance to do so. Please.”
Leif looked away, finding it hard to look Patrick in the eye. Knowing he was to hold his tongue and marry Lorraine left a hard knot in the pit of his stomach. It was clear, Patrick was the better man for being so selfless. Pushing those thoughts aside, he checked his watch again.
“What is taking her so long?”
He heard Patrick chuckle. “Calm down. You’re not the only one who’s been left to sweat bullets at the altar waiting for her. Trust me, she’ll be here and afterward, it will be worth the wait.”
Leif gave him a sideways glance, noting the huge reminiscent smile on his face. He loathed knowing Patrick had also had a wedding night with her. “Wipe that grin off your face.”
“Sorry. There’s just some memories a man can’t forget.”
“You know, I could’ve gone my whole life without being reminded of the intimacies you once shared with her.”
“Come on, you didn’t think I’d let you get off that easily.”
The thought of Patrick consummating their marriage with Lorraine, even if it were from another lifetime, ate him alive. He blocked it before it could take root. “How can you do this? How can you stand here and offer the woman you love to me without resentment?”
“Because I know the kind of man who’s going to love her from this day forth.” Patrick cleared his throat, turning sentimental. “You’re a great man. You always were.”
Leif didn’t know what to say, but he found a new appreciation for Lorraine’s protective friend. He still wasn’t sure how the man could be so self-sacrificing. If the tables were turned, he could never give up Lorraine.
The Emerald Isle Trilogy Boxed Set Page 92
