Chapter 19 #2
“I was hoping you would say that, as she’s been quite long since…since… you know,” Oleander called down awkwardly, for all the passersby.
Muttering, Meghan pushed him aside.
“August.”
Ah, God.
He had missed her. So damned much.
“Meghan,” he called. “I have come for you—”
“What took you?” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “You are l-late, August.” Shaking. Trembling, she backed away, and then continued retreating from that window.
I’m too late…
“N-No,” he breathed. Please, don’t go. He wanted to call up. To beg her, but then she was gone, and he was left with nothing, once more.
Or even worse—he was left with a window full of McQuoids who weren’t Meghan.
The heavy folder in his hands suddenly felt heavier.
God, he had missed her. He had planned this; every minute of the whole damned meeting had been meticulously planned, and she would not receive him.
And her tears, those tears he would sell his soul to stop, came, and he was powerless. Trapped with a fortress of McQuoids between them.
Wiping a hand over his mouth, he did a small circle on the cobblestones; gravel crunched beneath his feet.
The front doors blew open.
Culross dropped the leather folio and whipped back, prepared for a McQuoid fight.
He threw his arms open just in time.
She launched herself full-force. With her lean legs about his waist and her arms about his neck, Meghan hugged him so hard he nearly strangled.
But then she kissed him, and it was all right, because he figured if he was going to die, this was the way to—
Meghan eased off his neck. He sucked in gasps of air.
Culross decided he would rather live—as long as it was with her.
She ran trembling fingertips over his cheek. “You are here.”
“Of course, I’m here,” he said, clearing his throat. Coughing once more. “Where else would I be?”
“I honestly do not know, August,” Her eyes flashed—the fire. “Because I asked for a jest, and your reply of maybe later led me to believe it would not be…”
They spoke at the same time.
“Twelve days, eleven hours and two minutes.”
“Twelve days, eleven hours, and twenty-two minutes,” he said.
They both stopped abruptly.
“Twenty minutes’ difference,” he said after a beat. “Seems we’re finally getting the timing right between us.”
“The quip!” Her eyes danced with happiness.
Or maybe that was his own joy reflected back.
“Ah, God, Meghan,” he said, hoarsely. “My arms have been so empty without you. My days. My nights. I want them all with you. Marry me, please. And I will—”
“Yes.” She cut off the rest of the pretty speech he had planned and practiced.
“Well done, Culross.” Oleander applauded from above. “You should have seen the rubbish jests she’s been occupying herself with. Had her in tears, they did.”
Some of those tears freely fell—too many.
Culross tenderly dusted them away.
Meghan rubbed her cheek against his. “Your whiskers are back.”
“It is not because of the cold.”
“It is cold though,” she pointed out.
His lips twitched.
Meghan’s brow pulled. “Your mouth.” Her lips quivered. “Your beautiful mouth.”
Yes, it was still a sight. “What of my nose?”
“Also beautiful, you arrogant man,” Meghan murmured, and then brushed a kiss upon the organ.
“You did not ask what I was busy with.”
Meghan scowled. “No, because if it did not involve you whisking me away and loving me for the rest of our days, then it was not important enough for you to stay away.”
He thought about that. “Fair enough.”
The fact remained, however, the McQuoids had to be dealt with.
“Culross!”
Bracing his shoulders, Culross dragged Meghan closer.
“McQuoids-Smiths.” He looked to the audience of brothers, cousins, sisters, and he was sure he was missing some, but there were so many.
“I am marrying Meghan because I love her, and that is what she wants. And if she wants me to pave England in gold, I am going to do it for her.”
That shut the McQuoids up.
Only for a moment.
“Plus, there is the matter that I, as her brother, have granted permission,” Oleander said.
“Also,” Andromena shouted from her place at the window, “why would Meghan want England paved in gold and not Scotland?”
Oh, hell. “She would want both.”
That appeased the young ladies overhead.
Not Meghan. “I don’t want gold, August,” Meghan said, her voice catching. “I only want you.”
“Culross.” Mr. Campbell Smith spoke as the head of Meghan’s family. “I accept your offer.”
“Sorry, Camp, I already saw to it.” Oleander thumped his brother on the shoulders.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” Culross said, not at all sorry. “It has already been settled.”
“Campbell will hate this,” Meghan whispered.
A meeting with him on the pavement shouting up at the youngest McQuoid brother inside was, well, precisely how Culross anticipated it would go.
Or some variation.
Culross fetched the folio from the ground, and then gathered Meghan back to his side.
Never again would they be apart.
“This is for you,” he shouted.
“What is that?” Meghan asked quietly.
“What the hell is that?” Meghan’s brother, who’d thrashed Culross within an inch of his life, demanded.
“Your shipping alliance is so important to all of you,” Culross said.
“It is important to you too,” McQuoid called down. “Need I remind you that is why—”
“Well, it is yours.” The rest of Culross’s announcement silenced them.
“I don’t care a farthing about any of it.
” Culross slashed the folder back and forth.
“It is yours. And it’s more than your lot deserve.
You wanted an alliance with me years ago, and you had this woman, perfect for me in every way, who laughs at my jokes, and who makes me laugh more than I’ve ever laughed, and you almost married her to Hartwell? ”
Rage tightened his gut. And also horror at how close he had come to losing her.
His throat worked convulsively. “I love you with all I am, and all I want to be, Meghan.”
Delicate fingers smoothed his cheeks. “I love you,” Meghan whispered. Tears fell. He wiped them away. “But, August.”
She paused mid-stroke.
“You are not giving your shipping line to my family.” Muttering to herself, Meghan grabbed up the folio and waved the packet at the gawking McQuoids.
“He will be my husband. I love him, and you will love him, and you will include him.” Meghan dropped the paperwork he had spent nearly a fortnight preparing and dusted her hands together.
The ‘or else’ didn’t need to be spoken.
“Now,” she said lightly, “where were we?”
Grinning, Culross pulled her into his arms—
And showed her.
The End