Gretna Greene

the entire day go away. It had started out as the perfect morning, gazing upon Margaret as she slept. Breakfast awaited, the sky was blue, and he was certain he would soon find his sister and bring her back home where she belonged.

And now Margaret and Anne were ganging up upon him, trying to convince him that they-not he- knew best. As a united front, they were a mighty powerful force.

And Angus feared that as an object, he might not be completely immovable.

He felt his face softening, felt his will weakening, and he knew the women sensed their victory.

'If it makes you feel more comfortable,' Margaret said, 'I shall accompany Anne. I can't go all the way to London, but I can see her at least to Lancashire.'

'NO!'

Margaret started at the forcefulness of his reply. 'I beg your pardon?'

Angus planted his hands on his hips and glowered down at her. 'You're not going to Lancashire.'

'I'm not?'

'She isn't?' Anne queried, then turned to Margaret and asked, 'If you don't mind, what is your name?'

'Miss Pennypacker, although I should think we may use our given names, don't you? Mine is Margaret.'

Anne nodded. 'I'd be ever so grateful for your company on the journey to-'

'She's not going,' Angus said firmly.

Two pairs of feminine eyes swung around to face him.

Angus felt ill.

'And what' Margaret said, not unkindly, 'do you suppose I do instead?'

Angus had no idea where the words came from, no idea even that the thought had formed, but as he looked at Margaret, he suddenly remembered every last moment in her company. He felt her kisses and he heard her laughter. He saw her smile and he touched her soul. She was too bossy, too stubborn, and too short for a man of his proportions, but somehow his heart skipped over all of that, because when she looked up at him with those gorgeously intelligent green eyes, all he could do was blurt out, 'Marry me.'

Margaret had thought she knew what it felt like to be speechless. It wasn't a condition she often experienced, but she thought she was reasonably familiar with it.

She was wrong.

Her heart pounded, her head grew light, and she started choking on air. Her mouth grew dry, her eyes grew wet, and her ears began to ring. If there'd been a chair in the vicinity, she would have tried to sit in it, but she'd probably have missed the seat entirely.

Anne leaned forward. 'Miss Pennypacker? Margaret? Are you unwell?'

Angus didn't say anything.

Anne turned to her brother. 'I think she's going to faint.'

'She's not going to faint,' he said grimly. 'She never faints.'

Margaret began to tap the flat of her chest with the flat of her hand, as if that might possibly dislodge the ball of shock that had settled in her throat.

'How long have you known her?' Anne asked suspiciously.

Angus shrugged. 'Since last night.'

'Then how can you possibly know if she faints or not?'

'I just know.'

Anne's mouth settled into a firm line. 'Then how- Wait just one second! You want to marry her after one day's acquaintance?!'

'It's a moot question,' he bit out, 'since it doesn't appear that she's going to say yes.'

'Yes!' It was all Margaret could do to choke the word out, but she couldn't bear to see the disappointed look on his face any longer.

Angus's eyes filled hope-and with the most endearing touch of disbelief. 'Yes?'

She nodded furiously. 'Yes, I'll marry you. You're too bossy, too stubborn, and too tall for a woman of my stature, but I'll marry you, anyway.'

'Well, isn't this romantic,' Anne muttered. 'You should have made him ask on bended knee, at the very least.'

Angus ignored her, smiling instead down at Margaret as he touched her cheek with the gentlest of hands. 'You do realize,' he murmured, 'that this is the craziest, most impulsive thing you have ever done in your entire life?'

Margaret nodded. 'But also the most perfect.'

' 'In her life?' ' Anne echoed dubiously. ' 'In her life?' How can you know that? You've only known her since yesterday!'

'You,' Angus said, spearing his sister with a stare, 'are superfluous.'

Anne beamed. 'Really? Does that mean, then, that I may go to London?'

* * *

Six hours later, Anne was well on her way to London. She'd been given a stern lecture from Angus, heaps of sisterly advice from Margaret, and a promise from both that they would come and visit in a month's time.

She'd stayed in Gretna Green, of course, for the wedding. Margaret and Angus were married less than an hour after he'd proposed. Margaret had originally balked, saying that she ought to be married at home, with her family present, but Angus had just raised one of those dark eyebrows and said, 'Jesus, whiskey, and Robert the Bruce, you're in Gretna Green, woman. You have to get married.'

Margaret had agreed, but only after Angus had leaned over and whispered in her ear, 'I'll be bedding you this eve whether or not we've the minister's blessing.'

There were benefits, she quickly decided, to a hasty marriage.

And so the happy couple found themselves back in their room at The Canny Man.

'I might have to buy this inn,' Angus growled as he carried her over the threshold, 'just to make certain this room is never used by anyone else.'

'You're that attached to it?' Margaret teased.

'You'll know why by morning.'

She blushed.

'Pink cheeks still?' he laughed. 'And you, an old married woman.'

'I've been married for two hours! I think I still have the right to blush.'

He dumped her on the bed and looked down at her as if she were a treat in the bakery window. 'Yes,' he murmured, 'you do.'

'My family isn't going to believe this,' she said.

Angus slid onto the bed and covered her body with his. 'You can worry about them later.'

'I still can't believe it.'

His mouth found her ear, and his breath was hot as he said, 'You will. I'll make sure you will.' His hands stole around her backside, cupping her and pressing her firmly against his arousal.

Margaret let out a surprised, 'Oh!'

'Do you believe it now?'

Where she got her daring, she never knew, but she smiled seductively and murmured, 'Not quite.'

'Really?' His lips spread into a slow smile. 'This isn't enough proof?'

She shook her head.

'Hmmm. It must be all of these clothes.'

'Do you think?'

He nodded and went to work on the buttons of his coat, which she was still wearing. 'There are far, far too many layers of fabric in this room.'

The coat melted away, as did her skirt, and then, before Margaret even had time to feel shy, Angus had doffed his own garments, and all that was left was skin against skin.

It was the strangest sensation. He was touching her everywhere. He was above her and around her, and soon,