Page 41 of A Match Made in Heather

A pressed sprig of heather, tied with a faded green ribbon.

Her fingers trembled as she picked it up, barely able to believe it was real.Ten years.He’d kept it all this time, across all those miles, in all he’d been through . . .

“He didn’t know,” she breathed, her lips unable to form the words as new tears formed, this time of happiness. “When he wrote this, he didn’t know I was going to call off the wedding or defy my family.” She lifted the sprig to her smiling lips. “But he gave me Highburn anyway. He loves me . . .”

Enough to give up his revenge.

And she loved him enough to fight for him.

Clutching the sprig in her hand, she ran from the room and down the stairs, then past Mama and Aunt Matilda who both stared at her, bewildered. But she couldn’t stop to explain. Already Garrick was a good ways ahead of her, and she had to catch him. Oh, she simplyhadto!

She climbed into the barouche which had been waiting to carry her to the church and breathlessly ordered the surprised driver to take her into the village. But each passing minute was torture, the carriage’s wheels spinning agonizingly slowly—

“Stop!” she called out, unable to bear it.

Before the tiger could open the door and help her to the ground, she was already gone, her skirts hitched up and running as fast as she could. Villagers stared, but she didn’t care! She needed to find Garrick, needed to wrap her arms around him and make him understand how much she loved him.

She ran down High Street as she searched frantically for him, prepared to run all the way to England if—

She halted mid-stride, blinking to clear her eyes as she saw him standing in front of the parish church, staring up at the door with an expression of grim determination. He started up the steps.

“Garrick?”

Stopping with one foot on the step above, he faced her. Dressed in a black broadcloth jacket over a kilt made of the district tartan and black hose, the morning sunlight casting red highlights onto his mahogany hair, he took her breath away. He looked every inch the highlander he was born to be, right down to the dagger at his side. Surely, he was only a dream, the same fantasy she’d conjured in her mind countless times . . .

But when he smiled, her heart lurched into her throat, and she knew he was real.

And finally hers.

He glanced down at his clothes, then explained with a shrug, “I heard there was going to be a wedding this morning, and I wanted to be properly dressed.”

“You were coming to witness my wedding?” she whispered, confused. Her heart pounded dully in her hollow chest. Had she misread everything between them? In her joy over receiving Highburn, had she foolishly dared to hope too much?

“I was coming to stop it,” he corrected. “I’d planned to object and kidnap the bride.” His gaze locked with hers. “To keep her for myself.”

She blinked back tears. “You don’t have to.” A laugh bubbled from the happiness spreading through her. “Although I might let you kidnap me anyway.”

A questioning but hopeful expression softened his features, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t move. As if afraid to break whatever fragile spell was weaving itself around them.

“You were right.” She drew strength from the sprig she clasped in her hand. “I was letting my family control my life. But that’s changed. From now on, I’m doing whatIwant.” Even from so far away, she felt him tense. “I’m not marrying Ewan, and not because you gave me Highburn.” She paused as the importance of this moment settled upon them, this moment that could change the rest of their lives. “But because he isn’t you.”

Unable to hold himself back another second, he rushed down the steps. She ran forward and threw herself into his embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Garrick.” She rose up on tiptoes and kissed him, not caring that they stood in the middle of the village. “Forgive me for ever doubting you.”

His eyes glistened as he shook his head. “I’m the one who needs to be forgiven. I almost lost our future because I was still clinging to the past. But no longer. I need you, Arabel, to show me how to move on. And if you can find it in your heart—” His voice faltered. “Perhaps you can love me again.”

“I never stopped loving you. Not once in all the years we were apart, not once since you returned to me.” She rested her palm against his cheek. “You are the only man I’ve ever loved, the only one I ever will.”

He lowered his head to capture her lips in a kiss filled with such tenderness yet such passion that her knees slacked beneath her, and she clung to him to keep from falling away. “Marry me, Arabel,” he enticed against her lips.

“Yes,” she breathed, her heart overflowing with love. “Oh yes!” With a teary laugh, she hugged him tightly. “Let’s elope before anything can come between us again.”

“Nothingis taking you away from me,” he promised, then glanced over her head at the church. He crooked a half-grin. “But coincidentally, we now have a church, soon to be filled with guests and a minister.”

Shaking her head adamantly, she fisted his lapels in her hands. “I won’t be married in there, not in a ceremony meant for another man.”

He tenderly tucked a curl behind her ear. “Fearing bad luck, are you?”