DAWN HAD NOT COME, only its faint precursor, when Ian crouched beside Jamee and pulled her against him. “Did he touch you?” His hands were trembling. “If the bastard did, I’ll—”
“No, but he was close, so close all this time. He hated us, Ian. He said it should have been him instead of Adam who was adopted.” She gave a broken sob and turned her face to Ian’s chest as the memory of her pursuer’s mad eyes flashed before her.
“It’s done, mo cridhe. He’ll never bother you again,” Ian whispered. His hands clenched on her shoulder. “You’ll not escape me again, either. Blind or not, I’ll tie you up. I’ll use ropes of silk and leather if I have to.” His breath was as ragged as hers was. “You’re going to marry me, Jamee Night. If you say no, I’ll hold you here, captive in my keep. Day by day and night after night I’ll hold you until you’re an old woman whose beautiful white hair slides through my fingers while I kiss you senseless.”
“Is that a promise?” Jamee said breathlessly.
“Senseless. I’ll seduce you with no remorse. I’ll see that you’re pleading for release before I’m done.”
“I should imagine that will take about five seconds, you execrable man,” Jamee said. “Just like you did at dinner…”
Ian turned, his fingers trapping her face. “I never meant that, love. I never expected you would respond so…generously. You’ve been a fire in my blood since I first saw you. I don’t know which of us has been crazier. When I woke and thought I’d lost you—Thank God, Duncan and Adam arrived when they did.” He kissed her then, hungry and desperate while his hands slid onto her shoulders.
A low, male voice coughed behind them.
“Go away, Night,” Ian growled. He pulled Jamee closer, fingers buried in her hair.
Another cough followed.
“Dammit, Adam—”
A chuckle came out of the darkness behind them. The helicopter motors had shut down and darkness returned. Only the faint gold fingers of dawn touched the eastern sky.
“Go away. We can talk later. Then you can curse at me for falling in love with my client. Right now I’m going to sit here and kiss your sister until she loses every fragment of logic and agrees to become my wife, even if it means living six months of the year in this old wreck of a castle.”
“Yes,” Jamee said softly.
“And what if she says no?” Adam Night asked.
“I’ll reorganize the Glenlyle weaving cooperative and let her take charge of the hand-loomed tartans produced by ten villages.”
“Yes,” Jamee repeated.
“What if that doesn’t work?” Adam continued.
“Then I’ll have to threaten something truly terrible, like selling this castle which has stayed in McCall hands for seven centuries.”
“Yes!” Jamee threw her body against him, bringing them both down onto the soft heather.
Ian blinked. “Yes? You’re agreeing, my lass?”
“Three times already, you great, stubborn Scotsman.”
Ian closed his eyes as a shudder ran through him. “You’re certain?”
Jamee proved to him just how certain she was, pinning him to the damp earth beneath her determined body. “If you think you’re getting rid of me, you’re wrong. In fact, if you think you have even a hope of getting rid of me—”
He twisted, catching her beneath him as ragged laughter burst from his mouth. “No, not even a shred of hope. I’ve had none since I first saw you, mo cridhe, with your face more beautiful than a dream and your hair like a copper halo. I was afraid to hope.” His eyes closed. “The truth is, I’d given up, Jamee. Your laughter brought me back my light.”
High over the hills the first fingers of dawn touched the sky.
Jamee made a breathless sound and pushed to her feet. “I have to go. There’s one thing left to do.” She caught up the bright length of wool hanging at the edge of the stone well. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Only at the edge of the cliff did she stop, wool in hand. Across the loch to the east, where the hills rose in steep waves, she saw the faint glow of dawn and offered up her gift. With it came the hope that had slumbered in her soul for centuries since her death on this very rock.
As Maire MacKinnon.
Jamee gave her words to the dawn and tossed the bright colors out before her. They spilled through the air, tumbling end over end in a blur of color. Fuchsia burned into orange and glowing purple until a network of light pulsed against the darkness, flaming outward until the whole horizon lay streaked with the colors that could almost have been stolen from her cloth.
Watching the sun rise, Jamee felt the rush of beating wings, the taste of joy and the presence of all the people she had loved and lost. Mother. Father. Her wonderful, eccentric brother Terence.
So close, suddenly.
The hillside seemed to stir and the air filled with birdsong. Jamee turned to Ian, who stood motionless, watching her in mute shock.
“Can you see it?”
He nodded, unable to speak.
Her hands trembled. “The colors, too?”
“Red. Orange. Gold and purple. Oh, God, Jamee, the colors—” His voice broke. He reached out, gripping her hand. “The colors are beautiful. I can see them so clearly.”
She closed her eyes. Tears burned down her cheeks as dawn swept over the serried hills before them.
“How?” Ian whispered.
Jamee watched light fill the heather and thought of a woman who had lost her heart to her enemy’s son. Love like that could do many things—maybe even miracles. “Only because I love you, Ian McCall of Glenlyle. For now,” she said, repeating the words of a vow that could not be forgotten. “For tomorrow. For all eternity. These are my three wishes.”