Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) (19 page)

“You are the one thwarting me.” She pretended to ignore the
thrill from his breath teasing her flesh. The ache at her core. “You want me to
fail.”

“Nae, lass. I am your champion. Always.” Impassive amber
eyes held her gaze for a second. For a minute. For a lifetime. She forgot to
breathe and wavered.

A grin displaying perfect white teeth burst onto his face as
he supported her weight. She wanted to scratch away that masculine arrogance,
but didn’t dare.

Without uttering another word, he released the hold on her
hair, set her aright, and turned on a heel, leaving her bereft. The air buzzed
with dark magic, the tone shrill to those sensitive to such sounds. She and
Munn slammed palms over their ears. With a wave of the prince’s muscular arms,
the others traveled forward through the time gate, leaving Caitrina alone with
the damn brownie, cursing the prince.

Jillian strolled through the product displays in Foxglove’s
gift shop, searching for a perfect ornament for the garden she planned to
install behind the inn for Mairi. She selected a birdhouse from a table
containing avian gifts. Holding the wooden structure in her hands, she smiled.
Crimson hollyhocks graced a lime green exterior. It would create quite the
picture in a bed of summer blooms.

The crunch of a vehicle’s wheels on gravel grabbed her
attention and drew her to the open doorway. Kyle’s yellow Jeep careened into the
parking lot. What on earth—

A blond-haired man wearing sunglasses, black jeans, and a
black t-shirt slipped out of the truck’s passenger seat, pushed forward the
back of the seat, and retrieved…a baby from an infant carrier. When he turned
around, she gasped. My God, it was Stephen. And Keita and Duff leaned out from
the backseat and waved. They wore twenty-first century clothing, too. How had
Kyle found them? Why hadn’t he called to say they were here?

She dropped the birdhouse on the counter, ran through the
doorway and across the crushed stone, ready to leap on Stephen, but his hands
were full—the baby.

Jillian stopped short, unsure what to think, trying to keep
the dismay—inner turmoil—from showing on her face. She attempted to peer into
the backseat without appearing too obvious.
Had he brought Calyn?
“You
brought your child. Did you also bring your wife?”

Stephen flinched. “I have much to explain.”

I just bet you do.
Before she could offer the retort,
Keita and Duff ran from the other side of the Jeep, rocketing for her, faces
bright with exuberance. Jillian threw open her arms to catch them in a
three-way hug fest.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured for their ears only.

“’Tis so warm here. ’Twas snowing when we left. Kyle
purchased
new garments for us so we will
fit in
and took us to a barn for
ice
cream
…” Keita prattled. “
Chocolate
ice cream with
fudge
on
top. He said it is your
favorite
. He said we are going to live in a big
house with you and Stephen and we can have ice cream whenever we want.”

Stephen stepped forward and tilted his head to the side,
seeming wary, perhaps unsure of his reception. Meanwhile, Kyle sauntered around
the front of the Jeep as if he hadn’t just blown Jillian’s world apart with one
of those smart bombs. Her brother could have, at the least, warned her about
the baby.

“I found them wandering, lost, near the train tunnel on the
bike trail,” Kyle said. “Figured they belonged to you. Took them shopping. They
cleaned up real nice, don’t you think?” He grinned and
Groucho Marxed
his brows. “By the way, the hole you fell into is gone. Disappeared. Why do so
many weird things happen around you and your friends?”

Jillian snorted. She couldn’t help it. Weird was an
understatement. She glanced into Stephen’s eyes and fell into two compelling
pools of blue. Lost herself. Why had he returned if he fathered a child with
Calyn and couldn’t stay?

“I hope you are happy to see us,” he said, his voice rough.

“Of course. I’ve missed the children and…” Her throat went
dry and her voice sounded as gravelly as Stephen’s had. “Thank you for bringing
them to me.”

“I ken I owe you explanations. Might we find a quiet place
to speak? Just the two of us?” He turned to her brother and held out the baby.

“No way. Not me.” Kyle threw up his hands, palms forward,
and backed away.

Duff frowned and rolled his eyes to the side with a tilt to
the head. He accepted the child from Stephen and cradled
him
in the
crook of an arm as if he’d done the same many times before.
Stephen had a
son.

“Keita and I will watch wee Malcolm.” Duff cooed softly to
the infant.

“Malcolm,” Jillian repeated. So that was the child’s name.

Stephen winced. “’Tis a long story.”

“Perhaps we all should hear the tale,” Iain said. “A clan
meeting in my private chamber in one hour, where you will explain yourself.”

She hadn’t heard Iain’s approach or that of Mairi, Patrick,
and Laurie as they joined the gathering in the parking lot. Stephen pursed his
lips before giving Iain an abrupt nod.

“Come, Jillian. Let us go to the inn now so we can get these
bairns
settled and have tea,” Mairi suggested.

“I think whisky may be required this night before the
telling is done.” Patrick clapped Stephen on the back. “Glad you managed to
return to us, cousin.”

“You may not feel the same after you hear what I have to
say.”

Jillian chewed the edge of her lip. What had Stephen done?

* * *

Stephen regrouped with the others in the chamber outside
Iain’s study at the inn after putting Keita and Malcolm to bed. Though still
young, Duff had become a man during the fight with Maclay and deserved to
participate in the clan meeting.

Jillian sat on the other side of the chamber with Laurie and
Mairi. Stephen understood her attempts to avoid him—she wouldn’t even look his
way—but it had to stop, and before Iain arrived and called the meeting to
order. He needed to explain things to her privately before sharing the sordid
details with the rest of the clan members present.

“Do you think you can lure Jillian away from the others?” he
whispered to the lad leaning against the wall beside him.

With a grin, seemingly pleased to be part of a conspiracy,
Duff sauntered across the chamber to Jillian. He said something that Stephen
couldn’t hear and the two of them disappeared into the passageway.

Stephen waited a moment then signaled to Patrick his intent
to step out of the chamber. With a soft stride, he followed after two of the
four people who meant the most to him. He prayed he could keep them in his life
after he shared what needed to be said.

Halfway along the passageway, Jillian had stopped and stood
alone in front of a closed door. She spun toward him, palm pressed to her
breast upon his approach. “You startled me.”

“I did not mean to cause discomfort. Where is the lad?”

She blushed. “He needed to use the um…you know…loo.”

“And I need to speak to you privately. Duff can find his way
back to Iain’s study.” He grasped her elbow. Thankfully, she gave a quick nod
instead of pulling away and allowed him to escort her to the front of the inn
where they found an empty chamber.

Several of those upholstered chairs and wee tables were
scattered about the interior. He seated her on a wide chair covered in a pale
blue velvet, and knelt before her. When he gazed into her brown eyes, he became
mired in his thoughts. How would he explain all that had transpired since they
parted?

“I dinnae ken where to begin,” he said.

“The beginning is usually best.”

“I think I would rather tell you the most important thing
first. Tell you what is in my heart.” He held one of her delicate hands within
both of his palms. “I love you. I wish for you to wed with me.”

“But—”

“The
bairn
is not mine. Calyn was with child before
the forced handfasting. Her father and brothers tricked me. I have never had
carnal knowledge of the lass.”

Jillian’s brows scrunched tight. “But the baby. Why then do
you have the child?”

“’Tis a long story, as I told Iain. The short of the tale is
both parents are dead and Calyn’s family refused to care for the wee lad. They
wanted him dropped in the wood as were Keita and Duff. They claim he is a
changeling. I am hoping you will accept the
bairn
and raise him with me
as our own.”

Jillian’s face brightened with a tentative smile. “I think I
would like that.”

Stephen relaxed back on his heels. He prayed the last bit of
the tale wouldn’t change her mind. “There is one other thing you must ken
before you agree. Maclay is wee Malcolm’s father—thus the name.”

“I don’t care. I love you, Stephen. I have room enough in my
heart for all three children and any others we are fortunate enough to bring
into this world.”

He lunged over Jillian, and the chair groaned beneath his
added weight. They both laughed. Kissed. Slid to the floor, laughing and
kissing and holding each other in a loving embrace filled with hope for the
future.

Still, she hadn’t quite agreed to wed with him. “You will be
my bride, aye?”

The kiss she planted on his lips and then took deeper was
answer enough.

When they realized they’d been gone too long, they rose, and
Stephen wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they strolled back along the passageway.
He stopped Jillian short of returning to the others. “There is something more,
sweetling. Some of the others may not want Maclay’s
bairn
living amongst
them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, they can’t blame the child for the
father’s sins.”

“I hope you are right. If you are not, will you consider
making a new life with me somewhere else?”

“I will. I love you, Stephen. But let’s pray it doesn’t come
to that.”

Stephen gave her a loving squeeze and they entered Iain’s
study to find the chief seated behind the large desk with Mairi at his side.
Patrick stood in back of a wide chair where Laurie sat next to Duff. Douglas,
Finn, and Elspeth had joined the group.

Jillian dropped next to Duff on the wide chair and Stephen
took the spot next to Patrick behind his future wife and son. God willing.

“Since everyone is here except Caitrina, who I doubt will
join us, let us begin.” Iain inclined his head to Stephen.

“Maclay is dead.” He stated the detail that would be of the
most significance to those gathered.

“Are you sure?” Finn slid forward in his chair. “I had
thought I killed him, but still he lived and continued to harass our people,
reiving cattle and plundering villages.”

“My claymore pierced the man’s belly.” Stephen placed a palm
on Duff’s shoulder. “And our lad here dealt the final death blow to the head.
The bastard will nae longer trouble Clan MacLachlan.”

Everyone started talking at once. Patrick kissed the top of
Laurie’s head. He thanked Duff for his part and welcomed the lad to the clan.

When the voices quieted, Iain pinned Stephen with a
questioning stare. “We are all relieved to hear of Maclay’s demise, but what of
your handfasting to Calyn and your return to us with a
bairn
?”

Jillian glanced over a shoulder, giving him a reassuring
smile.

“Calyn’s
bairn
came too early to be mine, proving her
family’s deception and nulling the handfasting.”

“Then why do you have the
bairn
?”

“The wee lad’s father and mother are both dead. Maclay
killed the lass before coming after me at the faerie hill.”

A collective gasp sounded in the chamber.

“Why didn’t you leave Maclay’s spawn with Calyn’s family?”

Stephen raised a brow. “How do you ken the lad is Maclay’s
son?”

“Why else would you have named the child Malcolm?”

“Ach, well, Calyn’s father accused the
bairn
of being
a changeling and wanted him dropped in the wood. I could not allow such a
loathsome thing to occur.” Stephen swallowed hard hoping he didn’t have to take
Jillian away. “Jillian has agreed to wed me, and we will raise wee Malcolm as
our own. We understand you may not want him raised amongst your family and we
will leave if that is your command.”

“Dinnae be foolish,” Mairi said, rising. “The child is
naught but an innocent.”

“Do you agree, Iain?” Stephen asked.

“Aye.” He looked at his son. “Patrick?”

Patrick shared a glance with his wife, and then they both
nodded agreement.

“There is nae need for you to leave. You and the
bairns
are welcome to remain with the clan in Anderson Creek.”

Stephen released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d held,
grasped Jillian’s hand and squeezed when she rose, stepping back to stand
beside him.

“You will need an occupation,” Patrick said. “You can work
with me, building log homes. We will start with one for you and Jillian. The
two of you and the
bairn
s cannot stay at the inn forever.”

Laurie kissed Jillian on the cheek. “Congratulations. We’ll
have such fun planning the wedding.”

Jillian gazed into the antique cheval mirror in her bedroom
at the inn, her bewildered image reflected in the beveled oval. Had she fallen
through the looking glass into Wonderland? Goodness. She was dressed in a very
modern Irish lace wedding gown and would marry a sixteenth century Highlander
in less than an hour. Who would have thought such a thing possible when she’d
moved to Anderson Creek a few years ago to join in the garden center business
with Laurie and Caitrina?

“Is that really me?” Jillian pointed to her reflection, eyes
bright and hair piled atop her head in a soft bun adorned with a tiara of faux
diamonds.

Laurie chuckled. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Jillian swirled in a circle. She adored the
princess cut of the ivory gown and the row of covered buttons extending down
the length of its back. “It’s my dream wedding dress.”

“Stephen will love it.”

“You think?”

“How could he not? Now, hold still so I can put this on
you.” Laurie draped a silk sash of MacLachlan tartan over Jillian’s shoulder
and clasped it at the hip. “Perfect.”

After a soft knock, the door swung open and Keita rushed
into the room, dancing about, showing-off her forest green dress that matched
Laurie’s matron of honor gown. Keita stopped next to Jillian. “You look like
the princess in the storybook Mairi gave me. So pretty.”

“You look lovely too, sweet pea.” Jillian blew the girl a
kiss.

The darling child preened.

Kyle entered the room next looking handsome in a kilt,
waistcoat, and jacket, matching those worn by Stephen and Patrick, carrying a
velvet jewelry case.  “I have something for you.”

Jillian accepted the box. “What is this?”

“Mother’s pearls,” he said, all nonchalant as if it wasn’t a
big deal. “She gave them to me, but you should have them.”

Jillian tensed.
Mother didn’t want me to have them.
“She meant them for your future wife.”

“They’re mine to do with as I please and I want you to wear
them today. Consider them a wedding gift.” He slew her with his famous pleading
gaze—a look that always got him what he wanted. “Please.”

“Okay. I’ll return them after the wedding reception.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I mean for you to keep them.
They’re yours to give to your daughter at her wedding.”

“Thank you. I’ll cherish them always. Not because they
belonged to our mother. But because you gave them to me.” Jillian’s eyes misted
and her hand shook as she removed the short strand from the satin-lined case
and handed the pearl necklace to Laurie. “Would you put this on for me?”

“Of course, hon.” Laurie stepped in behind Jillian, slipped
the string under the tartan sash and around Jillian’s neck and then secured the
silver clasp. “They’re perfect with your gown.”

Lovelier than the faux pearls she’d intended to wear.
Jillian put the matching dangle earrings on and took one more glance in the
mirror. “Okay, I’m ready.”

The skirl of a bagpipe in the distance sent a chill across
Jillian’s bare shoulders as she exited the rear of the inn with the others. The
glint of the sun from a cloudless blue sky bore witness to a perfect September
day. Had it truly been a year ago her journey began? The weird inconsistency in
the flow of time from one century to the next while hopping through the time
gate made the passage of real time, here in the current century, feel surreal.

“Shall we?” Kyle held out an arm, and she leaned on him as
they strolled through the formal garden and beyond to the edge of the grand
lawn.

The inn’s gazebo sat in the center of the immense swath of
meticulously groomed grass. Chairs covered in white linen fabric with forest
green bows at the back had been placed to either side of a red cloth running
the length to the white Victorian structure. Garlands of white roses, heather,
and ivy twined the wooden pillars. And the semi-circular flowerbeds to either
side were planted with Montauk daisies in full bloom. The effect was storybook
quality.

Many of the townspeople from the Village of Anderson Creek
were seated in the chairs. As Jillian approached the gathering, she felt like
pinching herself to prove the reality of the day. They stopped upon nearing the
back row.

Laurie kissed Jillian’s cheek and squeezed her fingers.
“Everything will be fine.”

Then why were her insides doing an Irish jig?
“I
know. I thought Caitrina would be here. I’m not mad at her anymore.”

“She would be if she could.” Laurie handed Jillian the
bridal bouquet of white heather tied with green velvet then did the slow,
one-step-stop, one-step-stop, wedding march along the center aisle past those
gathered to witness the nuptials. When she reached the halfway mark, Jillian
urged Keita to follow Laurie down the aisle. The child dropped white rose
petals on the red runner from a white wicker basket beribboned in green to
match her and Laurie’s dresses as she’d practiced the previous afternoon. She
joined Mairi and Iain in the front row while Laurie climbed the one step to the
gazebo and stood with Patrick, Stephen, and Duff facing the minister.

The piper, in full Highland dress, had moved closer to the
gathering and began to play the wedding processional. All heads swiveled toward
Jillian and Kyle.

Jillian’s pulse quickened as she slowly paraded along the
aisle on Kyle’s arm. He gave a brotherly hug and kissed her cheek then moved to
the side, joining Keita. Jillian inhaled a nervous breath, stepped up onto the
wooden floor, and took her place beside her future husband.

Stephen looked so damn sexy in his kilt, waistcoat, and
jacket. The thrill throbbing at her core had Jillian curling bare toes against
the oak floorboards. Yeah. She was barefoot beneath her gown. And why not? Her
Highlander was barefoot beneath his kilt. Other parts—more manly—were probably
also bare. Heat radiated up from her chest, flushing her face, and she glanced
sideways at Stephen. She could hardly wait for the wedding festivities to end
so she could be alone with him.

He smirked, as if he knew the direction of her thoughts.
Duff grinned. He’d better not have an inkling of what Jillian had been
thinking. The boy wore a plaid kilt the same as the men in the bridal party,
but with an ivory tunic. He held a matching tartan pillow upon which satin ties
secured two gold rings etched with Celtic designs.

Once Laurie and Patrick were in position, they all faced the
minister.

The minister cleared his throat. "Is there any among
those gathered today with reason this couple should not wed?"

No one spoke, but a commotion from behind made Jillian spin
around. One of the guests righted a fallen chair and assisted an elderly woman
Jillian didn’t recognize though thought familiar, to another seat. A chill
passed over Jillian’s bare shoulders and she glanced at Stephen. He shrugged
and they once again faced the minister who seemed unfazed by the disturbance.

“Please, join hands.” The minister clasped Jillian’s right
hand, gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, and placed her hand in Stephen’s left
palm then wrapped their hands together with a strip of MacLachlan tartan, tying
a knot, binding their love together.

Jillian gazed into Stephen’s eyes and felt the special
connection they shared.

“We are gathered here today to…” The minister’s voice
droned. Stephen paid it little heed, too obsessed with the woman standing
beside him. His chest swelled with pride. His Jillian was the comeliest
creature he’d ever seen. And she looked delicious in that scandalous gown.
Stephen ground his teeth. ’Twas difficult to become accustomed to the way
modern people dressed. How much flesh they revealed.

He loved the sight of Jillian’s skin, but he didn’t care for
the fact other men could also see her delicate, bare shoulders. Why hadn’t she
worn a shawl over the damn gown?

Jillian shot him a startled look and Patrick snickered. Had
Stephen just growled?

The minister’s lips twitched as if the man fought a smile.
He cleared his throat and continued preaching about the significance of the
vows they were about to exchange. Stephen didn’t need a reminder. He
understood, and was humbled by, the duties he would perform in his marriage
with Jillian. He loved her and would always set her needs above his own.

“Stephen MacEwen of Anderson Creek, previously of
Strathlachlan, Scotland, will you have this woman as your wedded wife?”

“I will.” Stephen gazed at Jillian. “I pledge thee my troth.”

“And you, Jillian O’Donnell of Anderson Creek, will you have
this man as your wedded husband?”

“I will.” She beamed at Stephen. “I pledge thee my troth, as
you have to me.”

“The rings?” The minister glanced at Patrick. Patrick
removed the rings from the pillow Duff held forward and handed them to the
minister. One held in each hand, the minister raised the gold bands for all to
see, but spoke to Stephen and Jillian. “Let these rings become a symbol of the
love within your marriage—as a ring has no beginning and no end, so too will
the love between you have no beginning and no end.”

He released their bound hands and offered Stephen the
smaller ring. Stephen withdrew a second ring from his sporran turned to his
beloved and slid the ring with the emerald stone upon her delicate finger and
then the gold wedding band. “I place these rings upon your third finger,
Jillian, where the vein runs directly to your heart, so you shall always feel
my love. And with this gold ring I do vow to thee the first cut of my meat, the
first sip of my wine, and from this day only your name shall I cry out in the
night and only into your eyes shall I smile each morning. I will be a shield
for your back as you are for mine. Above and beyond this, I will cherish and
honor you through this life and into the next.”

Her eyes had widened at the sight of the emerald ring, but
she quickly regained composure. “Wow. Thank you,” Jillian whispered for his
ears only. “By the way, nice vows.”

She accepted the larger ring from the minister and gazed at
Stephen. “With this ring, I take you into my heart at the rising of the moon
and the setting of the stars. I will love you and be your forever partner
through thick and thin. I will love you through all that may come our way in
this time and in any other to which we may inadvertently travel.”

The minister’s brows furrowed then he shook his head as if
shaking off confusion from Jillian’s obscure vow. “I pronounce you man and
wife,” he said. “You may kiss the bride.”

Stephen didn’t need encouragement. He wrapped his arms
around Jillian, pulled her close, and kissed her deep. The guests hooted.

“The bride and groom will receive guests in the front hall
at the inn. Cocktails and hors d'oeuvres will be served shortly thereafter by
the staff of
Le Petit Café
on the veranda,” the minister announced.

A piper played a celebratory tune. Stephen grasped Jillian’s
hand and together they walked past those seated to where two additional pipers
joined the first, then they, the bridal party, and all the guests followed the
piping trio across the lawn, through the garden maze and formal gardens to the
inn. In the front hall, the pipers headed for the bar, and Stephen stood beside
his new wife—the love of his heart—to receive their guests along with Laurie,
Patrick, Duff, and Keita.

“This is so much fun,” Jillian enthused later, after dinner
had been served and consumed and the tables removed for dancing.

Stephen whisked her around the floor, having quickly learned
the modern way of dancing. “I am glad you are happy, sweetling.”

As they passed the table displaying the wedding cake, one of
the pipers, a hearty lad, stopped them. “It’s time to cut the cake.”

He played a short tune on his pipes. When finished, a dirk
appeared in his hand. He handed it to Jillian. “It is custom here and about to
cut the cake with a Scottish blade.”

As she sliced the first piece, Stephen reached out and
guided her hand. When their gazes met, his chest tightened. “’Tis ancient
tradition.”

“Of course.” She smiled. “Our modern tradition is for you to
feed me a piece and then I feed you one. Be careful not to get any on my gown.
Please.”

He placed a small piece of cake into her mouth. When she
licked a crumb from her lip, his blood raged, and he grew hard. The
consummation of their vows couldn’t come soon enough.

The sight from the corner of his eye of an emerald-eyed,
aged woman standing in the doorway made him whip his head to the side for a
better view.
It couldn’t be
. The cake Jillian meant for his mouth
smashed into his cheek. Those in attendance roared with laughter. He chuckled,
too, while Jillian cleaned his face with a damp cloth and gave him a chaste
kiss on the lips.

“What made you glance away?” she asked.

“I thought I saw someone…familiar. Someone from the past.”
He scanned the chamber for the old woman, but she had vanished.