Tempting the Highlander (Pine Creek Highlanders #4)

Chapter Twenty-three

T he only problem with inviting Ron to come for a visit was that nobody knew where he was. Catherine had called the parole officer assigned to him, several of his old acquaintances, and even his old precinct sergeant, only to run into dead ends.

She had finally told Robbie about her decision but that she couldn’t find Ron, and after he’d kissed her until her toes had curled, he explained that he had his own connections and quickly put out the word that Daniels’s ex-wife wanted to see him.

That had been four weeks ago, and there was still no ex-husband darkening her doorstep.

As for being Catherine MacBain, Catherine had told Robbie she couldn’t just say they were married and expect Nathan and Nora to understand. So she’d spent the last four weeks sleeping in her bedroom downstairs and planning a wedding where she would not only know what she was vowing but would get to say “I do” sometime during the ceremony.

The only problem was the date. Even though Robbie was willing to get married again to satisfy everyone in modern time, he refused to set a date until they could have a true wedding night. And they couldn’t have that, he insisted, until Daniels was completely out of her life.

Catherine was getting sorely tired of Robbie’s noble intentions—especially when he pulled her into his arms, kissed her senseless, and whispered heated, heart-thumping promises of what he wanted to do on their honeymoon. Her own noble intentions were about ready to explode, and when she wasn’t looking out the window expecting to see Ron standing there, Catherine was trying to figure out how to get Robbie alone long enough to curl his own toes.

The solution to her problem came from a most unlikely source one bright spring day, when Catherine heard a noise on the porch. She opened the door, and Mary walked into the kitchen, flew onto the back of her rocking chair, folded her wings, and started talking to Catherine.

Their amazing conversation lasted over an hour.

The wise snowy owl convinced Catherine that it was time she took matters into her own hands and put an end to Robbie’s noble intentions by staging a seduction a saint couldn’t resist.

And so, armed with Mary’s surprisingly simple and insightful opinion on courage and fear, and with her blessing, Catherine set a wedding date for that Friday. Mud season had shut down the logging operation, and the boys were only too eager to help put an end to Robbie’s bachelorhood—although Catherine suspected they really saw the marriage as a guarantee that they’d be keeping their housekeeper.

For three days after school, the boys rode up to the cabin where Catherine had first come face-to-face with Robbie. They cleaned it from top to bottom, stacked firewood, made some minor repairs, and even tied a mattress to poor Sprocket’s back and lugged it up the mountain.

With Winter’s help, Catherine called Robbie’s extended family and told them where and when the wedding was and asked them please to keep it a surprise. She also promised they’d have a nice reception the next day at the farm.

Even Kate got into the spirit of things, though she was still wrestling with losing Ian—torn between missing him and being happy for him, knowing he was where he belonged. Kate had a doctor’s appointment in Bangor that Friday and asked Robbie to drive her to it. If Robbie thought her request was strange, he never said anything. He’d only kissed Catherine good-bye that morning and left to go pick up Kate.

It was now four-thirty on Friday afternoon, the summit of TarStone was littered with three generations of MacKeages and MacBains, Catherine had twisted her bouquet of forget-me-nots into a tangle of weeds, and Robbie was late.

“Maybe he didn’t get yar note,” Michael said, standing beside her, his hands tucked behind his back as he watched the path coming up the mountain.

“He couldn’t miss it. I set it on the table, right on top of an apple pie.”

“Aye, that would catch his attention,” he agreed with a chuckle. “Catherine,” he said, turning to face her. “Have ya not heard from Daniels?”

She looked down at her mangled bouquet. “No, nothing,” she whispered. “Maybe he’s dead.”

Michael lifted her chin to look at him. “Pray he isn’t, lass,” he said softly. “Because I agree with my son. Facing your past is important.”

She gave him a brilliant smile. “But I no longer need to see Ron.” She widened her smile. “Heck, after what I went through four weeks ago, Ron Daniels isn’t even a worry anymore, much less a fear.”

Her almost-father-in-law lifted one brow. “Just like that?” he asked. “You’ve simply erased several years of yar life?”

“Every day of it,” she confirmed. “Except for Nathan and Nora’s birthdays. I’ve decided that sometimes, to find something wonderful, you have to go through a great trial.” She stepped closer and touched his arm. “After all you’ve gone through in your life, was it not ultimately worth it to have Libby and your children and grandchildren? Would you wish it all away in order to avoid the trials you endured to get here?”

Michael stared down at her, not smiling, not frowning, not one readable expression on his face that she could see. When he finally did respond, the last thing she expected was amusement. “Aye, I can see my son is in for an interesting future,” he whispered, wrapping her in a fierce embrace and shaking her with silent laughter. “I couldn’t have wished for a better daughter-in-law, Catherine.”

“She’s not your daughter-in-law yet,” Robbie said from right beside them.

Catherine gasped and tried to step back, but Michael wasn’t through hugging her yet. “Nay?” he chuckled, looking at Robbie and grinning. “Then maybe she should slip off her ring and give it back to ya.”

Robbie pulled her from Michael’s arms and led her away from the staring crowd. “What’s going on here?” he asked, turning them so that his body blocked her from the gathering.

“We’re getting married in five minutes.”

Looking very much like his father, Robbie lifted one brow. “With or without me?”

Catherine shrugged. “You apparently didn’t need my consent eight hundred years ago, so I guess I don’t need yours today.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “But whether you say your vows or not, I’m sleeping in your bed tonight, husband.” She gave him a challenging smirk. “So if you don’t care what sort of example we’ll be setting for our children, go home and eat your pie. I’ll be down as soon as the ceremony is over.”

“You need a marriage license in this time.”

“Already done and filed at the county courthouse. Martha Bailey helped me.” She canted her head. “Not everyone has their marriage license notarized by a judge.”

“And just when did I sign this license?”

“You didn’t. Cody did. He’s really good at forging your signature. You might want to check with his teachers and see what other papers you’ve signed.”

“You let a judge notarize a forged signature?”

Catherine sighed, stepped around him, walked over and stood in front of Father Daar, and waited for Robbie to join her.

She hadn’t wanted the old priest to marry them, considering all the trouble he kept causing, but Michael and Greylen had asked her to, for their sakes and for Robbie’s.

Catherine smiled at Nora standing beside her and then over at Nathan, who was crowded beside Gunter and Rick and Cody and Peter, all waiting to stand as witnesses for Robbie. Finally, after what seemed like forever, a dark shadow blocked the setting sun, and Father Daar lifted his book and started speaking.

“No, stop,” Catherine said, setting her hand over the pages. “In English,” she demanded, removing her hand and reaching over and lacing her fingers through Robbie’s.

Her new husband whispered his vows, and Catherine was tempted to shout hers, but in the end she repeated the words softly and clearly.

Since they were already wearing their rings, Robbie took her left hand in both of his and pressed their bands together. Catherine was expecting the magic this time, and when her ring warmed and her hand tingled, she simply smiled.

Their nuptial kiss, however, couldn’t have been more modest.

But Robbie’s kiss to Nora, when he scooped the beaming little girl up in his arms and gave her a loud, laughing smooch on the cheek, was heartwarming. And his handshake with Nathan was most manly.

Winter came forward leading Robbie’s horse, its mane and tail braided with long, flowing ribbons in the MacBain colors, its rump covered with an ancient-looking MacBain plaid. Catherine also noticed that Robbie’s sword—and the new stick he’d made her—were strapped to the saddle.

Her husband lifted her by the waist onto his horse and climbed up behind her amid a shower of birdseed and the cheers of those gathered on the summit.

“Where to, wife?” he whispered.

“To your cabin on West Shoulder Ridge,” she said as she waved and threw kisses to Nathan and Nora. “We’ll be back by noon tomorrow,” she told them. “You be good for the boys.”

She leaned back against Robbie’s chest with a sigh, looked up at him, and smiled. “How are your twelve toes feeling, Mr. MacBain?”

“They feel fine,” he said, looking confused.

Her smile widened. “Well, they won’t be in about an hour.”

“They won’t?”

“No, because I’m about to curl them, husband.”