Alex waggled his eyebrows at her and grinned, as if he were responsible for the change between her and Ian.
“We stayed with Connor and Duncan last night,” Ian said. “I confess we drank too much to make our way home.”
Sìleas clicked her tongue. “Well, at least you’re not lying to me about it.”
Ian halted in the middle of the path, his eyes as warm as summer on her face. “I missed ye last night.”
Alex took the hint and went on ahead toward the house.
“We need to talk,” Ian said. “Not here.”
Her heart did a little flip in her chest, knowing Ian wanted to settle things between them. She was ready. After staying awake half the night thinking about it, she had made her decision.
She felt a nervous excitement as Ian led her down the path to the small beach below the house. Hopeful. That was what she felt. When he’d taken her upstairs, he had shown her the man she knew he could be, the man she believed in.
She couldn’t fool herself into believing Ian loved her; he had other reasons for wanting to be her husband. But there was so much caring in his touch that she had reason to hope that one day he would. Even if he never did love her as she loved him, Ian had convinced her that he valued her and that he was determined to be a good husband to her from now forward.
It was too late, in any case. If she was going to leave him, she should have done it before he took her upstairs yesterday. He may have left her a virgin, but she’d lost her innocence. She longed to feel his weight on top of her again, to run her fingers over the muscles of his back, to see the stars spark against her eyelids as waves of pleasure pulsed through her.
What woman in her right mind could say no to the whole cake once she’d had a taste of that? The thought of sharing a bed with Ian every night sent tingles all the way to her toes.
Sìleas smiled to herself and fingered the special stone in her pocket for luck. When they reached the beach, Ian led her to the old lean-to that was hidden in the trees above the tide line. After ducking inside, they settled themselves on the low bench in the midst of a familiar assortment of fishing nets, ropes, and scraps for mending sails.
“I meant it when I said I missed ye,” Ian said, fixing his intense blue eyes on her.
“I missed ye, too.”
“I’ll always want ye by my side,” he said. “And I don’t want to go another night without ye in my bed.”
She held her breath, waiting for him to finish.
“What I’m saying—what I’m asking, I mean—is if ye are willing to be my true wife, starting tonight.” He fumbled inside his plaid. “Here, I have something to give ye.”
He took her hand and dropped a small silver ring into it.
“I didn’t have a ring for ye the day we wed,” he said. “I want to make that right now.”
Sìleas turned it over in her palm, the traditional gift of a man to his bride. She ran her fingertip around the circle, the symbol of never-ending love. The ring was formed to resemble two ropes twisted together, intertwined as a couple’s life would be.
“I know our wedding was no what it should have been,” Ian said.
Sìleas had to laugh at that. “ ’Twas the worst day of my life.”
Ian made a face. “It couldn’t have been as bad as that.”
“It was,” she said. “Don’t ye remember that gown your mother put me in?”
Ian’s mouth twitched. “Three of ye could have fit inside it.”
“And the color!” she said, rolling her eyes. “Nothing could have been worse.”
Though they were laughing, it was a bitter memory for both of them. Still, it made Sìleas feel better to talk about it.
“But ye did get the man ye wanted, aye?” Ian said, squeezing her shoulders and giving her a wink.
“Having the groom say his vows with the point of a dirk in his back is not what a lass dreams of when she imagines her wedding day.”
Ian’s expression turned serious. “I’ll make it all up to ye. The ring is just the start.”