Chapter Seventeen #2
That evening, she went with him to tend the horses. Ian wore nothing but his leather breeches and she left off stockings and shoes. The tall grass tickled the bottoms of her feet, making her laugh. She’d never been so happy.
The stallion’s bullet wound was healing nicely thanks to Ian’s salve. “What’s in this?” she asked, giving the tin a sniff.
“Lobelia flowers.” He ran his hand down the horse’s flank.
“Anything else?”
“Goose grease.” He straightened, brushing off the horse hair that had stuck to his fingers. “Simple enough, hmmm? I received the recipe from a Portuguese woman known for her abilities as a healer. In the army, we all went to her before we’d go to any military quack.”
Lyssa pressed the lid on the salve tin. “And how did you manage to wheedle it out of her?” Her imagination could jump to obvious conclusions.
He threw his arm around her neck, pulled her close, and whispered in her ear, “I saved her son from a bullet.” He took the tin and dropped it back into his open knapsack on the ground. “The lad was where he shouldn’t be and almost took it from a French sniper.”
“Oh.” Lyssa shifted her gaze away from him. “So, I’m not the first life you’ve saved?”
“You’re the most important one,” he answered, brushing a possessive kiss against her temple. “Here. What shall we name our stallion?”
Our stallion. Lyssa leaned her back against Ian’s chest. “I don’t know. It must be a grand name, but not something Gaelic.”
“ ‘Davidson’s Pride’ won’t work?” he teased and she elbowed him in the ribs.
“What about Fortune? Irish Fortune.”
His arms came around her and he rested his chin on her head. “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”
“There is,” she confirmed, covering the hands he pressed against her stomach with her own. “I’m discovering a good Irishman creates his. And the truth be known, I have a weakness for self-made men.”
There, she’d made the first tentative step forward to what was in her heart. She held her breath, waiting for his response.
“I want to believe,” he said softly.
“I do, too,” she confessed
His arms around her tightened. He held her close, then said, “Lyssa, we must return to London.”
She felt her heart drop.
“I must face your father,” he said.
“We must face him,” she corrected.
“Of course.”
“He won’t be happy.”
“No.”
Lyssa turned in his arms. She knew what he was saying. “Ian, what if he refuses us?”
“Then I’ll tell him the truth. That I debauched his daughter, stole her innocence, and will marry her in a heartbeat whether she likes it or not…although I would like his blessing.”
Joy surged through her. She threw her arms around him. “You love me!”
“Was there any doubt?”
She shook her head, even while admitting, “I couldn’t be certain.”
“My sweet, wonderful Cailín. I think I’ve loved you ever since you crashed that ironstone pitcher across the innkeeper’s head.”
“That was terrible of me.”
“Despicable,” he agreed, smiling, and her happiness knew no boundaries.
Putting her hand on his chest, right over his heart, she asked, “You will really ask my father for my hand?”
“Aye. That is, if you’ll have me.”
“Oh, Ian, such a stupid question.”
“It’s not, Lyssa, I have nothing—”
She cut him off with a kiss. “You have me,” she whispered. “You’ll always have me.”
“And can you live with the fact your father may not give us his blessing?” he asked, doubt in his voice.
“Yes,” she replied with conviction.
But Ian didn’t laugh this time. Instead his expression grew thoughtful. “Now, is this before or after we accuse his wife of attempting to murder you?”
“I don’t even care about that anymore,” she told him. And then she took the leap of faith. “Ian, I love you.”
Simple words, and yet they made all the difference to her world.
And to his. “You are everything to me,” he whispered to her, his voice fierce. “Everything.” He pulled back, holding her hands in his. “Lyssa Harrell, will you promise to be my wife, to love me, to be faithful to me all the days of my life?”
“Is this our church then?” she asked.
“Are we not before God?”
“Oh, yes,” she agreed, her chest tightening with emotion. “And, yes, I will have you Ian Campion. I will love you and honor you—” She paused, and then an imp of mischief caused her to add, “And obey you.”
“I doubt that,” he said, half laughing. “And I don’t care, Lyssa, for I shall be strong enough and courageous enough to take care of you all my days. Even if I have nothing to offer right now.”
“You have me,” she corrected.
With a glad, wild Irish whoop, he picked her up in his arms and swung her around. He twirled until they were both laughing uncontrollably and they tumbled to the ground in each other’s arms.
Suddenly, they both went quiet. This was a sacred moment, one Lyssa wanted to capture and remember all her life.
She never wanted to forget anything, not even the exact color of the blue sky behind white and silver clouds, or the feel of the light breeze on her cheek.
And she wanted to burn in her mind forever the look of love in Ian’s eyes.
He kissed her…and she knew he was feeling the same. This moment was magic. It was the sealing of their troth. Their promise of commitment.
She held her hand up, palm out. He laced his fingers in hers and she drew him down upon the cool green grass.
They made love there, beneath the Scottish skies where God and all His kingdom served as witness.
The act between them took on a different dimension than at anytime before.
There was no lust—but love. Each kiss, each caress, each touch went beyond the mere physical.
They were pledging their lives to each other.
And when Ian entered her, Lyssa silently offered thanks to God. She belonged in his arms. Could never leave them. He held her heart.
Later, her head on his chest, her legs entwined in his, Lyssa knew this was how it should be.
She only prayed her father would agree, but she did not speak doubts to Ian. She knew him well enough to know he harbored his own. She also believed they were both stubborn enough to live their lives as they pleased.
The next morning they left for London. Lyssa rode the chestnut. She was a good rider. Not as good in the saddle as Ian, but she could ride hard and well.
They would make the city in less than three days.
She didn’t know what the future held, but she trusted Ian enough to place her fate in his hands.