Devil in Tartan (Highland Grooms #4)(98)

“Where is Miss Livingstone, then?” Aulay asked.

Duff pointed out the window. She was walking down the path with Mr. MacLean.

Aulay strode outside to her. “Is it true?” he asked as he reached her. “Campbell has believed this nonsense and carried on?”

She lifted her shoulders in an incredulous shrug. “It’s true.” Her sudden smile was brilliantly sunny and full of relief.

“Aye, now, donna fret, Lottie,” Mr. MacLean said as he carried on toward the house. “We’ll be quite all right under the MacColl banner. He’s proven himself a good man, he has.”

She watched MacLean walk away then turned her smile to Aulay.

He nudged a hare out of the way. “It’s really true?” he asked again, unable to believe it. “Campbell believes you hung the traitor?”

She laughed. “He was appalled by it, and a wee bit miffed he’d no’ have the bounty, but aye, he believed it.”

“Bloody hell,” Aulay said with wonder. He reached for her hand. “Well then, Miss Livingstone, now that it’s done, and I’ve declared my intentions, it seems a good time to put it all behind, and look toward a future.”

Her smile brightened and she shrugged a little. “Is it? Have you forgotten that I canna pay your debt? No’ even with the sale of our house and livestock.”

“I’ve no’ forgotten.”

“Do you still intend to sail a whisky runner?”

“That depends,” he said, “on what my future holds.”

“Well then, remind me of your intentions, Captain.”

“Which part?” he asked, smiling, too. “The part where I declare I’ve no’ a bloody thing to offer and that we’ll be quite in debt and I canna show you the world? Or the part where I tell you I love you and will make you my wife?”

She slipped her arms around his neck. “I like the bit where you tell me your sea has turned over on itself, and you’re no’ the same man you were. And I particularly like the bit where you give me your solemn vow you’ll never again mention the two ships I sank.”

He laughed. “My sea has turned over on itself, lass, that is true, and I am a different man for it. A better man. A happy man.” He was truly happy. He’d never believed he could find happiness without a ship, but he supposed he’d found a different sort of deck to stand on, a different sort of sea. One so vast and ripe with possibility that it would take the rest of his life to explore. “But you are mad if you think I’ll never mention the two ships you sank,” he muttered, and kissed her.

Lottie laughed into his mouth.

“What of you?” he asked. “What of your desire to see the world, then? I donna know if I can give that to you, Lottie.”

She clucked her tongue. “I will see it,” she said. “If I never step foot off this island again, I will see it through your eyes, will I no’?” She touched her fingers to his lips. “You’ll paint it for me.”

He could not possibly love her more. “I will.”

“’Tis madness!” she exclaimed. “A pretend funeral and a verra real offer of marriage all in one day!” She kissed him again, much to the loud delight of the Livingstones who were gathered at the window, watching them.

It was madness, all right. Aulay might never see the deck of a ship again, but his life would not want for adventure. His view of the world would never be empty again. He’d found the one to add to his seascape.





EPILOGUE

Three years later

THE FAMILY HAD gathered in the cove on a brilliantly warm summer day to launch the new ship. It was not a very big ship, and in fact, could be counted on to hold nothing but perhaps a seashell or two.

But Beathan Mackenzie, son of Aulay and Lottie Mackenzie, was mightily proud of it all the same.

Aulay watched his son toddle after the ship on bowed, chubby legs, shrieking with delight as Aulay moved along in the surf to keep the ship from sailing off to sea. Beathan would be two years next month, and Lottie was expecting another child. Drustan had made the ship for his nephew, complete with sails and guns and even a few casks of whisky carefully carved and affixed to the deck.

“’Tis a beautiful ship,” Aulay’s mother said proudly, her eyes misting a wee bit. She was very partial to Drustan. “He’s got talents we’ve not yet discovered.”

Mathais had come down to the cove to see the ship launch, in the company of Rabbie and his son, Ualan, who followed Mathais about like a wee puppy. Mathais had grown taller and fuller, and at seventeen years, Rabbie said he was one of the best with a sword and would be one of the finest Highland soldiers one day.

Bernadette and Catriona were walking together in the surf with Bernadette’s daughters, their shoes off, their skirts held up so as not to wet the hem.

Aulay’s father had come down, too, helped by two Mackenzie lads. He leaned heavily on a cane but stood tall nonetheless, breathing in the salt air, his gaze on the horizon. It had been two years since he’d come down, he’d said, since shortly after Beathan’s birth.

“Aulay! Donna let him go so far!” Lottie called to him. She hurried forward to scoop her son up from the water where he’d wandered into the ankles.

“He’s all right,” Aulay said. “I’ll no’ let him float away, Lottie.”