Well, all except Connor MacDougal, of course, who informed her in no uncertain terms that he had no intentions of giving his fealty to a mere woman.
Thomas clasped his hands behind his back and smiled to himself. Apparently some things never changed.
Except the woman who was now turning to him, her cheeks wet with her tears. He held out his arms, then gathered her close.
And he was grateful to be able to.
Life was, he decided as he stood with his love in his arms in a meadow surrounded by Highlanders both mortal and not-so-mortal, nothing short of miraculous.
He closed his eyes and smiled.
Could things get any better?
Chapter 43
Could life get any worse? Iolanthe stood in Jamie's thinking chamber for yet another morning and scowled down at the book in her hands. This wasn't where she wanted to be. It wasn't so much just being at Jamie's hall that disturbed her. It was being at Jamie's hall still unbetrothed.
She wasn't sure at whose feet to lay that blame. Thomas's? It wasn't as if he hadn't tried to get her alone. But it had been a little difficult when Ian's house had been filled with Highlanders of all sorts, living and dead. Perhaps 'twas at their feet she should lay the blame. She'd managed to sit next to Thomas for the better part of the day on that day he'd saved her life yet again, but that had been the extent of her success. She'd returned to Jamie's keep, accompanied, but unbetrothed.
Damn all those men, anyway.
Which left her again that morning in Jamie's thinking chamber, looking for aught to do. She'd pulled her book from Jamie's desk, opened it up, and read a page or two, smiling a bittersweet smile at what was written there. By now, she'd come to terms with the truth of it. She'd also come to think that perhaps it hadn't been an existence completely without merit. She had certainly met many people she wouldn't have any other way.
But then again, when compared to what her future held, that former existence was certainly best left as something kept between the covers of a book.
Assuming, of course, that she had a future that held something besides haunting Jamie's keep.
"Good day to you, granddaughter."
Iolanthe looked up to see Jamie standing at the doorway. She smiled.
"And to you, my laird."
"Thomas sent word that he'd like to come fetch you, if you were willing."
Her heart sang so suddenly that she felt a blush come to her cheeks. "Did he?" she asked faintly.
"Aye. You can ring him, if you like."
She shook her head. "I think I can find my way there."
"If you will," he said doubtfully. "See that Thomas brings you home before the evening is out."
She looked at him blankly. "Does it matter?"
"I'd say it does. He has no business keeping you at Ian's all night till he weds with you."
"He hasn't asked me to wed with him, my laird," she said quietly.
"Well," Jamie said, folding his arms over his chest, "I should think that would be his first task."
"Am I to prod him about it, then?" she asked crossly. "I can't force the man!"
Jamie uncrossed his arms, walked across the chamber, and kissed her soundly on the forehead.
"He'll ask soon enough, I'll warrant. But until he has and you're wed, you'll sleep under my roof. I'll take my blade to him otherwise. You'll remember that I'm the one who taught your love most of his swordplay. Should we need to settle our arguments either with blades or a wrestle, he'll not come away victorious."
"Aye, my laird."
"I don't suppose you need men to see you to Ian's, what with that garrison of yours cluttering up my hall."
Iolanthe was still a little stunned by the fact that she now held the fealty of forty Highlanders.
"Aye," she managed. "I suppose I'll be safe enough."
"Then off with you, my girl. Mind your step."
"Perhaps a few signposts wouldn't be planted amiss on those particular parts of your land, my laird."
"Ah," he said with a twinkle in his eye, " but where's the sport in that?"
Sport wasn't exactly what she would call suddenly finding oneself in another century, but perhaps Jamie had a different perspective on it. He certainly had more practice at it than she did.
She bid her laird good-bye, tucked her book under her jacket, and made her way from his hall, collecting a mighty guard on her way. She felt quite safe surrounded by the fierce men who had chosen to accompany her. Her only regret was that her father couldn't have seen the like. She felt an echo of that sentiment in her soul and suspected that she'd passed a great many years thinking the same thing.
Her self-appointed personal guard walked into Ian's kitchen with her and would have continued on into his great room had she not looked at them with a frown.
"I'm safe," she said.
"We're sworn to ye, lady," one of the fiercer of the lads said. "We'll protect ye at any cost."
Iolanthe looked at Thomas sitting rather harmlessly in front of the fire.
"I daresay I'll be safe enough with him," she said.
The men grumbled a little but retreated to the kitchen. She scowled at them, but they, to a man, folded their arms across their chests and scowled back at her. So, they were refusing to retreat any further.
"Oh, you came," Thomas said, looking enormously pleased. "I would have come for you."
"The walk served me," she said with a smile.
"And you did have your army accompanying you," he agreed. He rose and took her hand. "What's the deal? Don't they trust me?"
She shrugged helplessly. "I've no idea. They seemed determined to fulfill their obligation quite thoroughly."
Thomas led her over to the couch and sat down with her. "It has to be flattering. You'll notice they didn't go down on bended knee to me. They like you. And they respect you, which probably means more."
"I don't know what I did."
"I'm sure they'll tell you
