Chapter Twenty
In which Luna teaches the Atlantic Ocean a lesson it’ll not soon forget.
Kai…
It’s clear my lovely bride is in shock as I guide her to the SUV after putting her shoes back on her feet.
“Like Cinderella and the handsome prince,” she cackles.
“Aye, except for I am the extraordinarily handsome prince,” I correct her, pulling her seatbelt across her and fastening it as she stares at her ring. Not covetously, or happily. More like a barnacle has grown on her left hand and she’s not sure if she can scrape it off.
“Go ride in one of the other cars,” I tell Logan, who chuckles heartlessly.
“I dinna think she’s gonna jump your bones right there in the back seat, but aye.”
It takes her a few minutes to realize that we’re not going back to the house. “Are you already regretting this decision?” she asks. “Are you going to dump my body in a ditch somewhere?”
“Not today,” I smile, enjoying her sudden surge of humor. It means she’s not in shock anymore, so that seems like a promising development. “We’re going to have your next lesson.”
Forty minutes later, we pull into a pretty seaside town, filled with colorful little houses clustered together and a sandy beach.
“Where are we?” Luna asks, leaning across me to look at the town.
“Pencil Beach in Largs,” I explain, pointing at a towering stone spire. “See that? It’s the Pencil Monument, commemorating the historic Battle of Largs.”
“What were they battling for?”
A chuckle escapes me before I can lock my good humor down. “I canna remember. But it was historic as shite.”
My men are competent souls, and by the time we pull up to the little dock on the other side of the village, one of my guards is standing there with a bored expression and a big shopping bag.
“See that?” I slide my arm around Luna’s waist, “That’s the boat you’re going to pilot.” It’s a nimble little cabin cruiser, dwarfed by the enormous ones filling the rest of the dock slips.
“Really? Like, right now? I appreciate your willingness to fulfill your promises, though I’m not exactly dressed for an afternoon of yachting around the harbor.” She looks down at her pretty white dress, giving me a chance to stare at her cleavage.
She looks better in this dress than I expected, and it took everything I had not to sport a stonner during the ceremony.
“We came prepared.” I take the bag from my guard. “Windbreaker, sweater, and jeans. Oh, and proper boat shoes.”
“Oh, that’s thoughtful, thank you.” She looks in the bag, smiling a bit. A small smile.
But a smile nonetheless.
I lift her bodily onto the boat, ignoring her protests and show her the cabin. “Ya can change down here.” My little fox is getting excited now, and she gives me a grin before shutting the door in my face.
Logan jumps on the front deck, digging a bottle of Tennent’s Lager out of the ice chest.
“You’re supposed to be filling the ice chest, not stealing from it,” I say, taking one for myself.
“What is happening here, brother?” He drains half the bottle in one gulp, already eyeing my dwindling supply.
“Luna has a list of things she wants to learn. She’s spent most of her life working to support herself,” I say, pulling off my suit jacket and tie, rolling up my sleeves. “There’s no harm and if it keeps her happy…”
“It would be quicker if ya could just buy her shite,” Duncan says.
“No, that’s how you handle your love life,” I say, slamming the cooler lid shut on his fingers when he goes for another bottle. “Your girls insist on jewelry and flowers to tolerate yer miserable arse.”
“Speaking of, I’ve got a date,” he checks his watch. “How many men do ya want me to leave?”
“Two cars, have the men patrol the beach and keep an eye out.” I scan the harbor. “Any new arrivals will stand out here.”
“Have fun,” he says, reaching behind me to snag the last three bottles of Tennent’s from the ice chest as Luna comes out of the cabin. The little shite leaps nimbly back onto the dock, waving at my bride. “Congratulations, Mrs. MacTavish! You’re gonna teach the Atlantic Ocean a lesson it’ll not soon forget!”
“Thank you for your faith in me,” she shouts back, “it warms my heart! Truly.” Turning to me, “Your brother is a smart ass.”
“Ya have no idea,” I sigh. “I hope you’re not a beer drinker because the bawbag took it all.”
Luna’s hair flies all over her face in the breeze. “What’s a bawbag?”
“A complete bastard,” I say, handing her a cap. “This will keep your hair out of your face. The wind is a wee bit much out in the middle of the harbor.”
“You Scots have the most creative insults.” She pulls the ball cap on. “Don’t you have one of those cool captain’s hats?”
“Alas, not this time.”
The sun is maybe an hour away from setting and the long lines of fiery reds and oranges stretch across the water as I teach Luna about the throttle and how to trim the boat. She’s steering the cabin cruiser in bigger and bigger circles around the harbor with a huge grin.
“You didn’t tell me that the damn boat turns on like a car and steers like one!” She angles around a buoy. “This is easier than I thought.”
Stepping behind her, I put my hands on her hips. “Plant your feet, lass. It’s time to open this baby up.”
“What?” She looks over her shoulder at me.
“Time for you to go very fast.”
“This is amazing!” Luna screams as she steers the boat into open water. The coastline disappears behind us with lightning speed and she’s laughing uncontrollably. “This is nothing like Pop’s canoe!”
I know we should turn back. It’s getting darker, the water is getting rougher. But she yelps and laughs every time the hull slams down against the waves, and I dinna want to let this moment go. Luna being wild and unrestrained is a sight.
Finally, happy and breathless, she pulls the throttle back and we slow to a stop, the boat bobbing gently in the waves. The sweeping beam from the lighthouse on the beach illuminates the coastline and we watch all the lights in the harbor blink on.
“This is the golden hour,” she sighs. “The perfect moment for lighting. Where’s my phone?” She moves from one end of the boat to the other, taking pictures of the waves, of the horizon, and the lighthouse, eyes narrowed in concentration. Her hair is tangled in snarls, her cheeks are red and chapped from the wind, and she’s never been more beautiful. When she catches me watching her, she self-consciously smooths her hair back. “What? Why are you smiling?”
“You are the most bonnie lass I’ve ever seen,” I admit.
Looking down at her windbreaker and jeans, she gives a dubious “Uh-huh.” Looking at the lights dotting the harbor, she sighs. “We should go back, huh?”
“I want more of you.”
That dinna come out right. I should have used sweet language about how beautiful she is, and how I want to make her feel good. Still, she leans back, gazing up at me.
“It won’t mean anything,” she whispers. “It’s just because of this. Because this is amazing right now.”
“I can make it even more amazing, little fox.” Sliding my fingers through her hair, I tilt her face up, kissing her, tasting the salt spray on her lips.