Part 11 (2/2)
”Thankyou, kind sir.” Harriet took Darach's arm.
Hamish made a mental note to never bring a date on any future engagement stints. He looked across at Kate. ”Congratulations, la.s.s. You've made him happier than I ever thought possible.”
”I love him Hamish-like I never thought to love anyone, like I never wanted to love someone, so completely, so infinitely.”
”Yes. It's a rare commodity you've found.”
”I always thought that people grew to love one another. They formed a relations.h.i.+p and nurtured it. Much like a garden, you sow the seeds, tend it and reap the benefits.”
”That's what it's very much like for most people.”
”But it wasn't that way. I sowed nothing. I saw him, even before I met him and it was as if I'd tuned into something bigger than myself.”
”You found yoursoulmate , Kate. You had to travel a few hundred years to do it, but you found him. That's a circ.u.mstance as rare as your blue diamond. I don't believe you went back to Darach because he needed you to tell him he was to die at Culloden. I believe you went to him because his soul's need to heal was so powerful it sought you.”
She twisted the ring on her finger and looked past him to where Darach waited outside the ladies' lounge. ”What happens if he doesn't go back Hamish? What if he stayed? What if he just checked out of the eighteenth century?”
”You know that's not possible, Kate.” His heart ached for her. For both of them.
”Why not? He's so smart, he could get a history degree and teach. He could explore his poetry. We could have such a good life. Why isn't it possible?”
”It's not physically impossible but emotionally and mentally it would destroy him. He could stay here and yes, he could possibly teach, own a business-Darach could do pretty much whatever he made up his mind to do. But his people would die. They would perish in the same manner as the accounts you read. And that's what he couldn't live with, Kate. And I don't think you could either. Would you have him stay at the cost of destroying the man you love?”
”You know the answer to that.”
He hated the bleakness in her eyes. ”Yes. Just as you've known he can't stay and why. Were he to stay, he'd forfeit his honor and no longer be the man you love.”
”So, if he goes can he ever come back?” She lifted her head and he saw a return of her spirit, her bright mind seeking a solution. ”Could I buy the portrait once the exhibit is through touring?”
”I don't know. I could check into whether the portrait might be for sale. It wouldn't come cheap.”
Kate nodded. ”I'll find a way. But could Darach come back after he takes care of things?”
”It's possible. I can't give you the probability. Funny thing about this time travel, other than the continuum of time, there are no rules, noregs , and no guarantees. There is no guarantee Darach can actually get back to 1744. It simply may not happen. Once the portal is identified, it doesn't mean it's an open-door policy.”
She reminded him of aBotticelli portrait, radiant and tragic all at once.
”I'm not looking for a guarantee, just a chance.”
HER WEDDING DAY.Kate drew a deep breath and paused at the arched stone doorway, letting the moment wash over her, through her. Stained gla.s.s filtered the sunlight rendering the church's interior dim and cool. Arches, nave and a worn stone floor lent it the feel of old Europe instead of Atlanta. The haunting notes of the bagpipes filled the air.
At the end of the long aisle, Darach waited, resplendent in his kilt. Hamish and Harriett-poor Hamish had finally given in to her standing witness-stood by his side.
Kate smoothed a hand over her dress. The cream silk with fitted sleeves that belled over her wrists was simple and elegant and she'd known the moment she spotted it-it wasthe dress -even without Hamish's seal of approval.
She looked down at the bouquet of cream roses and blue forget-me-nots with one single red velvet rose in the middle. Instead of ribbon, a thin strip of theMacTavish plaid from Darach's kilt knotted the flowers in place.
Was she truly ready to pledge herself to this man who could not stay? Would it be enough to carry only his name and continue to walk alone in life?
The answer welled inside her-a pure joy, a rightness of being. Yes, she, practical, pragmatic Kate Wexford was about to marry a man from another century that she'd only known for a week and a half. She'd never been surer of anything. And for today, for now, she would live in the moment.
She wished, not for the first time, that her mother could have been here-to laugh and join in the whirlwind planning, to stand by Kate's side and share in her joy. She would like Darach, Kate had no doubt. Warm air gusted against the back of her neck, ruffling her hair and then was gone. Kate smiled. Perhaps her mother was here, after all.
She began her walk down the aisle, feeling as if she literally floated down the aisle, buoyed by love and promise and the pipes' sweet melancholy. Darach's eyes met and held hers, silently proclaiming his love. She reached his side and pa.s.sed her bouquet to Harriett, who was already dabbing at her eyes with a lacehankie.
She and Darach clasped hands. His, warm and big, engulfed hers.
The minister kept it short and sweet. Within minutes they'd promised to love, honor, and cherish one another-Kate had refused a vow of obedience.
”I now p.r.o.nounce you husband and wife.”
Harriett sobbed to beat the band.
”You may kiss your bride.”
”Aye. The good part. Give me a kiss, wife.”
”Aye. 'Tis my pleasure, husband.”
Kate deliberately stepped on his toe.
He framed her face in his hands as if she were precious and fragile. ”Wench.”
She clasped his wrists in her hands. ”Barbarian.”
His kiss held tenderness and promise and pa.s.sion.
”Katie Wexford-MacTavish. Aye, that has a nice ring to it.”
KATIE UNLOCKED THE DOORof the condo and Darach stopped his beautiful bride with a stilling hand. He'd waited a lifetime for her and he wagered they'd do it correctly.
”We will do this right.” He swept her up in his arms. ”'Tis the groom's duty to carry his bride o'er the threshold.”
Her green eyes alight, Kate wound her arms around his neck and nuzzled his chin. ”It's also the groom's duty to carry his wife upstairs and fulfill her every need.”
He loved her beyond reason. ”Must be a strange American custom. Where I'm from that is the wife's duty.”
She reached around behind him and closed the door. ”Sorry,MacTavish , you're too big for me to carry you upstairs.”
He started up to the second floor. ”Ah, I can see I'll have to teach you how to be a proper Scots wife.”
She flicked her tongue against his neck, which sent a rush of blood straight to his groin. ”And it is clear to me you may need a lesson or two in how to be a regular American husband.”
He made quick work of the rest of the stairs and entered her bedroom. He bent one knee on her bed and laid her against the pillows and coverlet. ”Ah, here is the marital bed, wife.” He couldn't seem to say it often enough. Wife. She'd pledged her troth as he had pledged his.
She was stunningly beautiful in her wedding finery but he ached to take it off of her and make her his again. Aye, they'd made love before and it shouldn't be any different this time, but it would be. They'd pledged themselves to each other before G.o.d and under the laws of the land and now they'd consummate their vows in the most elemental way between a man and a woman.
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