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“What are we doing, Jamie?”
“If ye mean the smuggling, I’ve several excellent ideas, though I’ll admit the ghost may require a new bedsheet.”
“Jamie.”
“Aye, I know.”
He looked at her hand resting in his, at the fingers that had learned to tie knots, and at the faint scrape across one knuckle from their work on the ghosts. She’d arrived with strange clothes and boots, a stranger story, and more opinions than a kirk full of ministers. Somewhere along the way she’d filled every empty corner of his life, and he’d been fool enough to think he could go on enjoying her company without telling her what it meant to him.
“I think I fell in love with ye the moment I saw yer boots.”
Olivia blinked.
“My boots?”
“Aye. There ye stood in the rain, wearing the most extraordinary footwear I’d ever seen, telling me what to do on my own hill. I couldna decide whether to kiss ye or demand the name of yer cobbler.”
“Those boots were expensive.”
“Worth every penny, I’d say.”
She laughed, although her eyes had begun to shine.
“And then ye opened yer mouth again, and I thought perhaps I’d been mistaken about the kissing.”
“Jamie Campbell!”
“But every day since, lass, I’ve found another reason to love ye. The way ye stood up to Crawley when any sensible woman would’ve left the man to his own foolishness. The way ye can taste a drop of whisky and tell me more about it than Alasdair can after twenty years at the still. How ye remember which bairn likes honey cakes and which old woman needs her roof mended, though ye’ve only been in Glenbrae a matter of weeks.”
His thumb moved gently across her knuckles.
“And the way ye look at Dunarraidh as though ye can already see what it might become, even when the roof’s leaking and the wind’s coming through the walls.”
“Jamie…”
He ran a hand down her cheek. “I’ve loved ye when ye were laughing at me, when ye were furious with me, and when ye were too frightened to laugh at all. Yesterday, when Robertson’s men came through the gate, I thought of all the things I hadna said to ye. And when I heard that musket, I was afraid I’d lost the chance.”
She drew closer, her free hand coming to rest against his chest, well away from his injured shoulder.
“You haven’t lost it.”
“Nay.” His voice softened. “Though I’ve made ye wait far too long.”
“You have.”
“I love ye, Olivia. And if ye decide ye must find yer way home, I’ll help ye do it, though I expect it’ll break my heart. But I canna bear another day pretending I want anything less than a lifetime with ye.”
Olivia’s eyes filled, and for once she didn’t seem to have a clever answer at the ready.
He touched her soft skin, brushing away a tear with his thumb.
“Dinna cry, lass. I’ve been practicing that speech since yesterday, and I’d hoped for a better reception.”
A laugh escaped her, wet and unsteady.
“I love you.”
Jamie went still.
