Wedding The Highlander

“No, I’m seeing the man I’m marrying today.” Libby wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him fiercely. “I love you, Michael MacBain.” She looked up and smiled. “So much so that when we were searching for Robbie and had Daar’s staff, I decided that if we all got zapped back in time, I’d still be happy, as long as we were all together.”

Michael’s arms tightened around her, and he leaned down and kissed her smile. “Aye. I had the same thought myself,” he whispered. “It was a hard life back then, lass, but it had its good points.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Nay,” he said, shaking his head. “Not anymore.”

He swept her off her feet and carried her back to the chair, placing her on the floor and then settling himself behind her. Libby snuggled into his embrace and stared at the fire again. It seemed there wasn’t anything else that needed saying, and she was content simply to sit in silence.

But just as she was about to close her eyes and nod off to sleep, a package suddenly appeared in front of her nose.

It was a small package, brightly wrapped in Christmas paper and tied with an elaborate bow. Libby reached out and took the gift, leaning her head back to stare up at Michael.

He was smiling down at her, his eyes lit with anticipation.

“What would this be?” she asked, waving the package.

He kissed her on the nose. “It’s not a bureau to match your bed, I’m afraid,” he said, one corner of his mouth turning down in a lopsided grin. “I’ll make ya a new one, Libby.”

Libby’s smile disappeared. “You hid Daar’s staff in my bureau,” she scolded. “That took more nerve than brain.”

He was far from contrite. “Really? I thought it was genius myself,” he contradicted with a shrug. “I didn’t dare destroy it, and what better place to hide it? I knew you’d look after that bureau come hell or high water and that it would eventually be passed down to Robbie. And what better tool could I give him when he meets his destiny?”

“Daar has it now.”

“Aye. But Grey’s probably right. I don’t think we need fear the olddrùidh . Not for a good while, anyway. And we’ll deal with him then, if that time ever comes.”

Libby shook her gift. “What’s in here?” she asked.

“Why don’t ya open it and find out?”

She needed no more urging. Libby carefully pulled off the bow and tore through the wrapping to find a small velvet box. She opened the lid and gasped.

“It’s tourmaline,” Michael told her. “Mined right here in Maine.” He took the ring out of the box, picked up her left hand, and slid the ring onto her finger.

“There,” he said thickly. “You’re mine.”

“I guess I am,” she murmured, holding up her hand to admire the large forest-green stone shaped like a teardrop. She looked over her shoulder at Michael. “So I guess you’

re also mine.”

“Aye,” he softly agreed, kissing her nose again.

Libby turned until she was on her knees facing him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and stared directly into his eyes. “I love you, Michael,” she whispered.

“Aye,” he repeated with thick emotion. “I love ya, too, Dr. Elizabeth Hart. Will ya marry me, lass?”

“Yes.”

He smoothed a hand over her hair and let his fingers trail down to her cheek. “Then I’m giving ya a nine-hour engagement, so ya might want to make the best of it.”

“Time only matters to clockmakers,” she whispered, leaning up and halting her mouth just short of his. “And the only time that matters is what’s left of the rest of our lives.”

She gave him an open-mouthed kiss, then pulled back and smiled into his molten gray eyes. “I’ve always wanted to make love in front of a noisy, messy fire. Is it finally going to happen?”

“Aye,” he whispered, turning them both until Libby was stretched out on the rug in front of the hearth with Michael beside her. He brushed the hair back from her face and kissed her cheek just under her ear. “It’s going to happen right now, lass.”

A shiver ran through Libby, and she rolled against him, throwing one leg over his hips and capturing his mouth in a kiss filled with the promise of passion. And with careful attention to detail, they undressed each other, enjoying each new patch of skin that was revealed and each small measure of pleasure they shared.

It was just as Michael was slowly entering her that Libby caught sight of the ring on her left hand as she clutched his shoulder. The firelight hit the jewel, and she was sure she saw a Christmas tree winking at her from the center of the stone.

Libby sighed in contentment.

She was in love with an ancient Highland warrior. Life didn’t get any more real—or more magical—than that.