They married aboard the ship that would return them to Scotland, right before they set sail. Tavish and Harriet were there, of course. Vera and the Maganns had accompanied them to Philadelphia and had come aboard for the ceremony. On deck, the ship’s captain, a resolute soul of few words, had seen the vows spoken in a matter of moments. But the sparseness of the wedding ceremony did nothing to detract from the happiness swelling within Charlotte as she stood beside the man she loved.
With hugs and tears and promises of future visits, Vera and the Maganns disembarked, the crew weighed anchor, and the ship left the harbor. Tavish took Harriet belowdecks to see her settled. The other passengers milled about, waving at the distant shore. Charlotte stood at the railing with Alec’s arms about her, looking out over the vast ocean of water and whitecapped waves that stretched between them and Scotland.
When she’d left home all those months ago, she could not have imagined what lay in store. And she could not have imagined the happiness she knew now.
This was one of the vistas from her mother’s letter.
While still recovering from scarlet fever, she’d dashed off a letter to her parents, letting them know of her sooner-than-planned departure . . . and of the husband she’d be bringing home.
She only hoped she’d adequately conveyed her deep love for the man standing behind her. Especially since the first letter she’d written home about Alec had not been quite so . . . complimentary.
Charlotte’s curls whipped in the bracing wind. “It’s too late to change your mind now, Alec,” she said, raising her voice to be heard.
He lowered his head and said softly, “I’ll not be changing my mind, Char.”
Her stomach swooped at the low sound of his voice in her ear, the assurance within his words. She turned her head to see him smiling down at her, that smile that had the power to melt away every worry for the future. He captured her mouth, stroking the nape of her neck with his thumb, tender promises embedded in his kiss.
Tears sprang to Charlotte’s eyes as Alec tucked her head beneath his chin and held her against him. The tremulous ocean covered them in a light mist, and the ship bobbed up and down, a motion she was all too familiar with.
But how different it was going back than it had been coming. How sure she felt. Of herself. Of her future with Alec. Of what she wanted and what she could do.
Edinbane had once been where she’d taken sanctuary after heartbreak. And then a place she’d tried to escape when life seemed to be caving in on her. Now the Highlands beckoned her home, a haven where faith, not fear, could flourish.
A home where she could build a future with Alec.
That was what she wanted. Alec had been alone for so long, and Charlotte was determined not only to make her family his but to make a family that was all their own. A dozen children, if she had anything to do with it.
And with the way he was looking at her, she did.
So while everyone else came up on deck to watch the last specks of land disappear, she followed Alec below to the quaint cabin they’d share for the next two months. Her giant of a husband pushed the door open, taking in the tiny room. “It’s a good thing your trunks full of maple syrup and popcorn are down in the hold. Not to mention Jambe de Bois.” He motioned for her to go in first.
“He’ll be lonely down there, without you.” Eyes laughing, she turned back to look at him as she passed through the doorway. “Not that I’m complaining. I still can’t believe you agreed to let him come.”
Their pig, as it turned out, had belonged to Vera. When Alec had demanded why she hadn’t said something sooner, Vera had merely cackled. “You needed the pig, and the pig needed you. Consider it a wedding present.”
Alec ducked beneath the lintel. “If it weren’t for Jambe de Bois and your insistence on bringing him slops, we might not be here.”
Charlotte turned back around, coming face-to-face with him. “I was never there for the pig, Alec.”
He swallowed, his hazel eyes darkening. With one step he’d eliminated any remaining space between them. His hands went around her waist, and he laid his forehead against hers. Before her sigh of contentment escaped, Alec’s lips were on hers, a satisfying reminder of the vows they’d made on deck. She reached her hands behind his neck, drawing him down to her, sliding her fingers through his hair. The delicious friction of his beard brought a smile to her lips. “Perhaps we should shut the door,” she whispered, her breath mingling with his.
Alec turned to close the door and banged his head on the low ceiling.
Charlotte laughed aloud, raising her hand and gingerly touching the slight welt rising on his forehead. “Should I fetch your doctor’s bag?”
He put his hands on her arms, holding her in place, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. “I don’t need my bag,” he said.
With the door shut, her heart began to beat erratically. “You should be careful,” she breathed. “With your head. It might be safer like this.” Charlotte traced the line of his jaw with her finger, curled her wrist around the back of his neck, and pulled him down toward her again.
He kissed her softly at first, his lips like a glowing coal, warming her from the inside out. “Yes, much safer,” he agreed and fingered the necklace resting in the hollow of her throat. She swallowed, throat dry. His lips traced over her cheek, edging toward her ear, where he whispered soft words of love and adoration.
He set a hand on her waist, another on the small of her back, as if to eliminate even the smallest space between them. But something stilled him, and he held her there, cradled against his chest, the steady beating of his heart in her ear.
“Alec?” she whispered after a long moment. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” came his low voice. “Everything is perfectly right.” Several seconds later, he loosened his hold on her and took her face in his hands. His next kiss was so soft, so unhurried, that Charlotte melted into him.
She pulled back only briefly to say, “I cannot wait for the next chapter of our lives to start. In Scotland, with you.”
Alec tenderly touched one of her curls. “But our story began in America.” He teased the corner of her mouth with his lips.
“I suppose marrying aboard this ship was for the best, then,” she said with a sigh.
“What do you mean?” His hazel eyes were curious.
“Because we became husband and wife . . . not in America, not in Scotland.” She cocked her head, smiling. “But in neutral waters.”
And with that they were kissing again, forging a truce that neither minded at all.