Page 23 of The Laird’s Guardian Angel (Highland Lairds #3)

22

D uring the time they cared for her father, Alistair's health improved significantly. Each day, Calliope thought would be the one he'd say he was headed back to his castle, and yet he’d stayed and helped her with her father, and at the end of each day, they sat beside each other at the trestle table, laughing, sharing stories, and enjoying each other's company.

They'd grown more comfortable with each other over the last few days. And dare she say it, more than comfortable. As Calliope had tended his shoulder wound, he’d had to remove his shirt and sit before her with his bare chest, and she never seemed quite able to find her breath. She tried to focus just on his shoulder, but it was hard to do that when the man was practically bulging with muscle all over.

Really, it seemed pretty unfair to anyone with a pair of eyes that the man should be formed so well, and if she was honest, just thinking about it now brought a blush to her face.

He helped her to understand Scottish customs she'd either forgotten about or knew nothing of and even taught her how to do the Ghillie Callum, a dance over swords that he, Duncan, and Broderick were incredibly skilled at. The entire clan—even her father, who was carried down when he was feeling better to watch—stood around them in a circle until Duncan pulled Bessie into his arms and Broderick, the Cook.

Calliope's happiness grew with each passing day, and so did her sense of belonging. There'd been no more talk of wanting, though there'd been plenty of it. At night, when they went to bed, Alistair would watch her longingly, and she was certain her gaze was mirrored in his. When their fingers brushed, she shivered and wanted more than anything to grab his hand in hers.

Though he didn't try to kiss her anymore, she wouldn't have minded if he did. But he seemed to be waiting for her to make the next move. Completely fair since she'd run away. It also made her feel as though he respected her. Understood that a woman's only bargaining chip was the currency that lay between her legs.

Not that she wanted to think of her body as currency.

And that only made her want to kiss him more. Several times, she'd come close to asking, only to shy away or be interrupted by a clan need or his men who seemed to linger in all the places they went.

But tonight, she was going to ask him to kiss her. She couldn't take the waiting anymore. Knowing that his mouth on hers was all she'd dream about when she went to bed.

Calliope entered the great hall, her head held high, smiling and greeting those of her clan. They no longer asked her about which clan men she wished to wed. They seemed to have given up on that task for now, either because she kept putting them off, or was it because they'd noticed her feelings for Alistair? Or maybe it was because her father was found alive, and they needn't worry about who would be their leader.

She wasn't immune to their stares and whispers, none of which were done with anything other than a smile. And in fact, she found their curiosity encouraging. A sennight ago, she'd told herself she'd have that much time to decide on her future, and Calliope was very close to declaring just what that decision would be. She only hoped her father would give his blessing, for she was still willing to make it if he didn't.

A life with Alistair was what she wanted.

All the decisions that came with what a relationship between them meant she hadn't figured out, but that could come later. What had to come first was how she felt about Alistair. And tonight, after they supped, she was going to share her feelings.

"Wine?" Alistair offered, holding out a cup as they sat down for the evening meal.

"Thank you." My goodness, but her belly was a whirl of nerves.

She took a long sip of the wine he poured, hoping it would bolster her nerves, but it only seemed to make her more nervous.

Alistair served her meal, piling her trencher with meat, fish, bread, and cheese. She picked at each, barely tasting the flavors their Cook had put together, as her mind was on what she planned to do when the meal was over. She was glad her father was not joining them tonight, for if he'd been at the table, she might have lost her nerve.

"Are ye well, lass?" Alistair asked, leaning closer to her.

"Aye. Why?" Oh, why did her voice have to sound so… wobbly?

Alistair gave her an odd look. "Ye've hardly touched your meal."

"Oh," she laughed, shook her head, and stuffed some cheese into her mouth. "My mind is elsewhere tonight."

"Where is it?" he asked, spearing a piece of venison.

"Out there somewhere." She waved toward the door.

"Shall we go and fetch it?" he asked with a conspiratorial grin. "I've heard if ye let the mind run off too far, ye might never get it back."

Calliope laughed. "If I were still in England then I would say let it run. But perhaps you are right, and we should go and seize it before I never get it back." Just like she wanted to seize this moment alone with him.

She pushed back her chair, clearly surprising him as his eyes widened. He dropped his knife, still speared with meat.

"Ye're serious," he said.

"Aye." Calliope lifted her skirts and marched toward the door. It was now or never, and she didn't want to stop her forward progression in case she lost her nerve.

Tonight, she was going to make what she wanted very clear. Calliope was seizing her Fate with her own two hands.

Alistair ignored the teasing calls of his men as he followed Calliope from the great hall.

There'd been a determination in the set of her jaw that had his curiosity blazing. What was the lass up to?

The moment he crossed over the threshold, she grabbed him by the front of his shirt, shut the door, and pushed his back against it. Shocked and even more curious, Alistair held up his hands in surrender and grinned.

"Och, lass, what have I done?"

"Nothing and everything," she said. "Now, do be quiet because I am swiftly losing my nerve."

Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight as her gaze roved over his face, searching for something, and what he wasn't aware. So, he kept smiling, encouraging. He rather liked how she was manhandling him in the moment.

"You have not tried to kiss me in a week."

He nodded because he hadn't thought it was true. "No,' because I have no' wanted to."

"You're not supposed to say anything."

He pressed his lips closed.

"I have wanted you to kiss me. But I wasn't certain it was right. Or that…"

Alistair swallowed. Hard. If she kept talking about kissing, he was liable to take hold of her right now and kiss her until they were both senseless.

"I've never been in charge of my own fate," she said. "But I've decided that I am now. I am not going to allow anyone to make any choices for me—even my father. And I've decided that I do not want to marry a Ramsey."

Alistair nodded slowly, for this was something he'd already figured out when he'd watched the men in her clan attempt to approach her, only for her to sweetly brush them off.

"I am going to marry a Sinclair."

Alistair's entire body stiffened. "Who the hell are ye marrying?" His words came out a growl. Whoever the bastard was, he was going to rip him limb from limb. Calliope was his.

His, goddammit.

Calliope looked startled, eyes widened, her grip on his shirt loosening, and then she was laughing. Doubled over laughing. What the hell was so funny?

"Name him, lass, so I might put him out of his misery."

That only made her laugh harder.

"I swear on all that is holy, he willna live to see the morning."

"Oh, please, I pray, do not go to such an extreme, for then we shall never kiss."

Alistair reared back. "What?"

"'Tis you, you oaf. I want to marry you. I want to kiss you whenever I want for the rest of my life without having anyone tell me I cannot."

Alistair had never been stunned, speechless in his life. He'd chosen to be speechless countless times, but all thought and ability to use his tongue to form syllables had never been an issue for him until this very moment.

"Did you hear me, Sinclair?"

Alistair slowly nodded. "Ye want to marry me."

"Aye."

All the fears he'd had in the past about leaving a wife behind should he die came tunneling back to him at that moment and blurted out on his tongue. "But I could die in battle. Leave ye alone."

Calliope nodded. "I could too. But isn't that more reason to seize this moment? I love you, Alistair Sinclair and I'm not afraid to share that. I'm done hiding behind fear and rules. I want you. I need you."

Something in the center of Alistair's chest burst right then and there. He grabbed Calliope by the waist and tugged her flush to him. "My God, lass, I love ye so much. And I'm going to be afraid of losing ye every day of our damned lives."

"Me too. Now kiss me."

And he did.