Our Shared Horizon (Kaitlyn and the Highlander Book 10) Read online

  “What?”

  “You, sir, have a good imagination. This is important, being able to imagine things. I can see that you are imagining me undressed though I am wearing this blousy thing and it covers me from my shoulders to my ankles. I get that you are being sort of timid and you aren’t entirely sure what to do from here, but it dawns on me that we haven’t given each other anything as a present.”

  “Ye hae given me verra many presents.”

  “Have I? I suppose so, but that was before I was your wife. We don’t even have rings.”

  “I will get ye a ring, I just daena hae—”

  “I understand. Here’s the thing, I have a very set idea of the kind of ring I want. If you want to be really romantic with the gesture of a ring, I would really like to buy the one I want. Then you can give it to me and you can kiss me and tell me it’s beautiful on my finger and it will symbolize our love. Because I know you would get me a ring if you could. And because you know I want what I want. A ring like that will be an amazing symbol of us.”

  “I will give ye the ring ye want.”

  “And I will give you a simple gold band. I can’t believe I didn’t bring one. I think I kind of thought there might be a jewelry store here and that I just didn’t know where it was yet.” I took another bite of bread and chewed.

  “But we really need to give each other a gift now, don’t you agree?” I licked each of my fingers clean of the jelly and butter.

  He ran a hand through his hair, “What did ye, I daena hae...?” He was incapable of forming full sentences.

  I was so freaking excited about my next move. “I have a present for you is what I’m saying.” I pulled my shift up, up, up, so slowly... The hem drifted past my calves and over my knees and up more. I crossed my arms and hovered the hem at the top of my thighs. “On second thought, promise you won’t be disappointed?”

  “Disappointed in what? In ye, Hayley?”

  “Yeah, I mean, I’m kind of... like, I have a belly, and I try to tell myself that I’m curvy but I know I’m just really bigger than probably... and I try to diet and I do exercise a lot, actually, but really this is just my size.”

  “Are ye explainin’ tae me that ye arna beautiful? Because I think ye are verra beautiful.”

  “And you promise that you will still say that when I’m naked, because if you tell me I need to diet or something... like I might cry.”

  “I daena ken what a diet is, but I winna tell ye anythin’ but that ye are beautiful.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I daena ken if I can breathe with waitin’ on ye tae take yer shift off.”

  I smiled. “That is the best thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  He grinned. “If ye take yer shift off I will tell ye other good things.”

  “Will you?”

  “Aye.”

  I pulled it so slowly up past my hips and then to my waist and then slowly up higher and then it was all the way off. I dropped the whole thing by my feet and stood naked in front of him.

  “Och ye are a beauty, my wife.”

  He pulled me forward by my hips and pressed his face, his rough beard against my stomach. I shivered.

  “Are ye cold?”

  “I am, let me get a blanket.” I went to the bed for one of the thick scratchy wool blankets, noting to myself, if I ever went home, to bring a mattress, more Uggs, the watch for Fraoch, and a fluffy soft cloud-like comforter.

  Fraoch followed me and with a gleam in his eye, shoved the bed, the whole thing, as close to the hearth as it would go with a very loud scrape across the floorboards.

  Madame Mary’s voice came from downstairs, “Master Fraoch! Is everythin’ a’right?”

  Fraoch and I tried to stifle our laughs.

  I whispered, “She can hear us!”

  Fraoch bellowed down, “Aye, Madame Mary, I had tae move the bed closer tae the hearth for m’wife.”

  “Dost ye want some ale brought tae yer room?”

  I climbed onto the bed and looked down over the side. The floorboards were wide, but the spaces between them let light through from downstairs. With one eye closed I could make out the form of Madame Mary, hands on her hips, bellowing up to our room.

  She stalked off to bring us our ales. I whispered, “If she looks up from the right angle she can see us! I’m naked!”

  “She can definitely hear us. When we consummate our marriage she will be our witness.”

  I pulled the blanket around my shoulders. “I think I might have performance anxiety now.”

  He stood beside the bed looking down at me until there was a knock on the door. I hid under the covers while he received the pitcher of ale and a mug and put them on the table beside what was left of the bread loaf. After she left I asked, “Will you bring me some bread?”

  “Ye canna eat through the covers.”

  I emerged, my damp hair wild from the wool blanket.

  Fraoch, fully clothed, tore off bread for both of us and smeared mine just the way I liked it, lots of butter, dollops of jam. I lay there waiting.

  I could see him grow nervous. He handed me the bread. I took a bite, chewed and watched him eat his, another and another, while we didn’t speak. Then I licked the jam off my fingers.

  “Are you going to join me?”

  He nodded, put his bread down on the table, and while I climbed in under the blankets he dropped his kilt to the ground and pulled his shirt off over his head.

  Oh.” I said. Because this was… “Oh.” My husband in his full form, big, muscular, covered in fur, like a man man, a wild man, a—

  He teased me, “Daena be disappointed.”

  I teased back, “I’m not at all, you are beautiful.”

  We squiggled down under the covers, and tented the blankets over our heads. He scooted up, right in front of me, took a breath and then placed his arm around me. He paused again and then pulled me close so our fronts touched.

  He whispered, “I daena want ye tae be afraid of me.”

  I whispered back, “I’m not.” Even though I was a little, nervous and afraid, my breath fast and my mood quiet.

  He kissed me, those tantalizing brushes of skin and beard and licking soft tongue and his breath was bullish, from his nose, deep chest, big lungs, inward and outward, exhales, and moans that rumbled.

  Near his ear, my mouth full of whispers, I added, “Don’t be afraid of me either.”

  He turned his head to meet my mouth, a long lingering kiss. “I am only afraid that ye will go without tellin’ me.”

  “I won’t, I promise I’ll always tell you.”

  And then he rolled me to my back, kissing my neck and my mouth and my jaw and my lips as he climbed on me, his legs nudging mine aside. He thrust himself into me, with a sound from his throat that was so primal— “Wait.”

  He froze, briefly, then pushed again—

  “Stop, wait.”

  He stopped, his chest rising and falling in heaves. I wrapped my fingers in his above my head, enjoying the weight of him sprawled upon me. “Look at me.”

  He looked down into my eyes.

  His face an inch away, our bodies touching everywhere.

  “This is it, the moment, our first time.” He didn’t answer, but his gaze was intent. I loosened my hand from his grip and ran my fingers down his cheek. “You aren’t lost, not anymore.”

  He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to my ear. “I ken.” He kissed me there.

  “We should go again, I’m sorry I interrupted.”

  He began in earnest to push into me again and again.

  I raised my legs up and wrapped them around his back as he pushed and plowed against me, my moans rising, until finally he reached an intensity, rising up on his arms and driving into me, until finishing with a rush, he collapsed on me, “Och.”

  His mouth rested on my shoulder, the full weight of him on me. It was a sensation I liked very much to be pinned under my beast of a man.

  “Did we do
good?”

  “Aye, we are married, m’bhean.”

  “While it still rains and rains and rains...” I pulled one of his tendrils of hair out and watched it spring back into his waves. I asked, “What does mabean mean?”

  “M’wife.”

  He rolled off me. The mattress was lumpy and very thin. The wool blanket scratchy. I cuddled up against his chest, my cheek on his bicep. Except my nose was very near his underarms.

  “Ignore me, don’t even think about this, okay?” I climbed off the bed and dug through one of my duffel bags for a container of washing wipes, with an enzyme for body odor. I had ordered them special. I pulled one from the container and said, “This is going to tickle.” I wiped his underarms and then down his stomach and around his furry parts. “It smells like sandalwood and spice, isn’t that nice?”

  “It does smell verra good.” He smiled. “I daena mind any of this as long as ye remain unclothed.”

  “Well for better or worse this is me, you’ll need to get used to it.”

  “Och!” His big arms went around me, pulled me onto him, He kissed me all over my chest and my stomach, anywhere he could reach.

  I giggled and squirmed in his arms. “You like me?”

  “I do, verra much.”

  “Good, because you’re stuck with me but I truly hope you never feel like you’re stuck. I did read once that if you ever feel stuck in a relationship, that you can self-talk out of it, remind yourself about the best things you love about your partner.”

  Using another wet-wipe I cleaned my own armpits and between my legs. Then I cuddled up against him again.

  “So I think, for me, if you’re ever driving me crazy, I’m going to remind myself about that moment when you held my hand and said you wanted to spend your whole life with me.” I inhaled. “There, you smell amazing now, I could sleep here. Except we need some more bread.” I climbed off the bed, went for two pieces of bread, and returned, dropping one accidentally on the blanket. “Oops.” I picked off a bit of fuzz and passed it to him. “It’s clean enough.”

  I sat cross-legged beside him, eating. He ate and watched me appreciatively. “What would you remind yourself about me, if I am ever driving you crazy, and you feel tired of me?”

  “All of it.”

  “What if I make you pick one thing?”

  “Ye canna make me.” He chewed and swallowed. “Did I tell ye, Hayley, about when I was in the fort in Darien?”

  “Not really.”

  “I had come across the sea from Inverness. At the time I had the memories of m’wife in m’mind, they were hauntin’ me.” He checked my face. “Tis okay tae say it?”

  I nodded. “It’s okay. What was her name?”

  “Her name was Meg.”

  I nodded. “I told you that you can talk about her, I meant it.”

  He took in a deep breath. “Onboard ship I was made tae work verra hard. We lost many men in the crossin’ but twas worse when we landed. I had tae sleep in the mud of that far away shore and there was nae food. I was starvin’, Hayley, and men were killin’ each other tae keep from starvin’. In darkness, I prayed through the long nights, while around me, men were moanin’ and dying. When the war began, I was grateful because then the soldiers fed us. Twas awful tae hae tae kill tae have some bread tae eat.”

  I twirled my fingers through a tuft of his chest hair. “That sounds really awful, I’m so sorry Fraoch.”

  “I have that memory in front of m’eyes, the killin’ I was made tae do for food, and that thought replaced everythin’ else for a verra long time. Twas all I saw whenever I was at rest. But now...” He kissed the top of my head. “Now I see ye, and over time my mind has filled with thoughts of ye and so I canna chose one, I want them all.”

  “Wow, Fraoch, I love you so much and... thank you for loving me this much.”

  “You’re welcome, m’bhean ghlan.”

  “You just added another word.”

  “I’m calling ye m’clean wife.”

  “I’ve been called many things but that might be my favorite.” I passed him my water container. And then I drank and curled up beside him. Using his arm as my pillow, we took a rainy morning nap.

  Twelve - Hayley

  It kept raining. For many long wet days. We went to the stables to check on our horses and then raced back, a few feet to the inn, arriving drenched. We took our dinner in the tavern, talking about the silliest things, but also, learning more about each other and enjoying it all. We did become a little bored and stir-crazy.

  We got on well with the proprietor though she spoke about us as if she knew exactly what we were up to in our room, a lot of sex, which was true. She joked about how we needed to build our strength and eat more for the family we were buildin’. Fraoch teased her, when she served the main meat, “Och, it smells like feet and m’wife should ken as she complains of my scent quite often. Dost ye think it smells of unwashed feet, m’bhean ghlan?”

  I laughed. “No, I think it smells delicious, as all of Madame Mary’s food does, perhaps it’s your own feet you smell? What do you think, Madame Mary”

  She said, “Madame Hayley, I believe ye tae be a verra kindly wife for such a boorish husband.” And then she kindly asked, “Master Fraoch, would ye like a second servin’?”

  To which he said, “Aye, tis m’favorite,” and we all laughed.

  The tavern had more men at the tables as the rain continued. And some of them had the look, as Fraoch called them, of ruffians. But we ignored them mostly, enjoying the obliviousness of being on our honeymoon.

  Fraoch told me about his family, now gone. That his mother had been a MacLeod and his father a MacDonald and that he had a brother who died in battle and how after his wife and child had passed he had been all alone.

  I told him about Florida and the house where everyone lived. And talked about Quentin and Beaty and how she had gone to Florida and liked living there. I told him all about dating, and each of our friends, including James and how he had dated Katie.

  His brow furrowed. “Og Maggy kent she was with another man?”

  “And he and James are even friends now. James works for him and is expected at big family meals.”

  “Og Maggy’s family is verra large, he has a great many men tae protect.”

  “True that, and he’s willing to include the man who used to date his wife. He’s just not a jealous person. I asked him once about it, because he saw James with his hand on Katie’s thigh — I asked, ‘How did that not bother you?’ And he told me,” I pretended to have a Scottish accent, “’When I looked intae her eyes I kent she was my wife, I just had tae get her tae ken it as well,’ or something like that.”

  Fraoch grinned. “I like it when ye speak with an accent, ye sound like a proper Scottish wife.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “And that is how I felt about ye as well. I thought ye tae be married, but when I looked at ye I felt as if ye were m’wife and I believed I was sinnin’, because m’heart was tellin’ me ye were m’own.”

  “I’m very sorry I lied to you. Think of all the time we wasted, but here we are. I am your wife, and you were right. And also here we are, members of Og Maggy’s family. It means you aren’t alone anymore. We will always be invited to the family meals and speaking of family meals, someday I hope you get to meet Chef Zach...”

  And that was how we talked, long meandering stories, getting to know each other more and more and more and we whiled away the nights making love and we were getting very good at it. We had entered that part of our honeymoon where we just lay there trying to get all our parts to work again for another round. Asking each other questions like, “Dost ye like this?” And “What if I touch you here?”

  His wicked sense of humor was always just under the surface and I learned the places on his body that I was allowed “tae touch anytime I wanted tae have him chase me around the room.” And the place on his body that I could kiss to make him ready in one second. We were working on his concept
of time.

  He was learning how to take his time on my pleasure.

  I was learning that he was happiest when I had no clothes on, flashing skin went a long way to focus him.

  I also learned that I really liked his bicep as my pillow.

  And that he was fuzzy and warm and big and manly and incredibly gentle. All the good things.

  He didn’t like rats. We learned this the hard way when a rat scurried through the room aiming for the crumbs on the table from breakfast.

  The way he carried on I realized he didn’t like any animals besides horses. Everything else was just something that wanted to kill him. Or was potential food. It was a race to the death — who would eat first?

  I would not let him even consider eating this rat. Besides, I asked, where would he cook it, in our honeymoon hotel room?

  Waking up on his arm. Getting kissed. Warmness and cuddles under our scratchy wool blankets. I said, “I wish I could talk to Katie about you, she would want to know all of this.”

  “Would she?”

  “Oh yes. We tell each other everything and she’s not doing anything right now except being pregnant, ugh. So freaking boring.” I giggled as the rain doubled in intensity making the room too noisy to speak. We now had three drips coming down from the roof, descending through cracks in the floor to the lower pub. One of the roof leaks was a literal faucet, pouring, unhindered, as if that spot of the ceiling was just nothing but sky.

  After a moment the sound was not abating so I spoke anyway, “I’m glad this isn’t boring.”

  Fraoch chuckled. “I am glad there haena been any time-travelin’ storms, I daena ken how I would see them.”

  We descended the steps to the tavern to see Madame Mary sweeping the accumulating puddles out the door. The crowd parted to give her space for her sweeping, and I say crowd because men were everywhere. Every chair, around every table, leaning on the walls, sprawled on the floor. Each man was filthy, dirty, nasty looking, bedraggled and rough. They all turned to look up as we entered. At me standing behind Fraoch. He said, “Hayley return tae our room, lock the door.”