First Kiss

A s the tasty meal of roasted lamb and fresh vegetables progressed, Makenna studied Ash. He was a lively conversationalist, his educated upbringing evident in the way he spoke of places and events. She loved listening to his tales of growing up with two brothers in Berkshire. As boys were wont to do, they'd indulged in all kinds of shenanigans. She supposed their behavior wasn't much different from that of highland lads, except Ash wasn't like any local boy she'd ever known. Even the way he ate his food was refined. His genuine laughter was cultured not raucous. His teeth were perfect.

She loved all these things about him and yet they brought home forcefully the reality that a relationship could never work between them. A refined nobleman would never commit himself to a highland lass who kept the books in a distillery. And her pride wouldn't allow anything less than commitment. If Ash couldn't give all of himself to her, she would be better off staying away from him.

Despite her determination to remain aloof to his charms, when the evening came to a close, she readily agreed when he offered to escort her home to her cottage.

"It's a pleasant evening," Ash remarked to Makenna as they walked arm in arm.

"Aye but, soon enough, we'll be up to our knees in snow."

He feigned a shiver. "I don't know if I'm prepared for that."

"Ye'll adapt," she replied with a shrug.

"No choice, I suppose."

They walked in silence for a while, until she said, "Ye had a choice tonight to imbibe a lot o' whisky, yet ye didna."

He chuckled, thrilled that she'd taken note of his polite refusal of several large tumblers of Uachdaran . "Unusual behavior for a drink-sodden rake, don't you think?"

"I dinna ken what to think o' ye, Ash," she confessed.

"A remarkably honest reply," he replied. "Sometimes, I don't know what to think of myself. I'm not the man I used to be, Makenna, but you make me want to be better."

"What happened to change ye?" she asked. "Ye obviously grew up in a happy family. Ye loved yer brothers. "

"I did, still do," he replied. "But the war changed things."

"Tell me," she said, gesturing to the bench outside the front door of her cottage.

He ached to take her inside and make love to her, but her pride would never allow that to happen, so he accepted the invitation, sat beside her and shared things he'd never spoken of before.

Makenna vividly recalled the joyous relief that swept through the distillery when news came Niven King was alive and been hailed as a hero of Waterloo. She vaguely remembered mention of one of the Halstead brothers being severely wounded during the battle. There was an unspoken feeling that perhaps he deserved it for his part in kidnapping Niven. Ash's obvious distress as he told of Rowan's struggles with the loss of his leg broke her heart. Thorne's disappearance was an unimaginably tragic loss that clearly played on his mind.

But she sensed there was more to the tale, so she waited.

"After Waterloo, Rowan wished for death," he confessed after long minutes of silence. "All I could think of was that I might then become the duke, something I'm completely unsuited for and never wanted."

"'Tis understandable in the horrific circumstances."

"Well, that's the part I don't understand," he replied. "When Rowan recovered, I got sick and tired of people telling me I'd had a lucky escape because I wasn't duke material."

"So, ye decided to live up to their expectations. Ye became a drunk and a womanizer."

Her reasoning had perhaps crossed a line but, when he turned his head to look into her eyes, it seemed natural to allow him to put an arm around her shoulders. Wanting to offer comfort, she leaned into his warmth.

"You're so wise, Makenna," he rasped, bestowing a kiss on the top of her head.

She looked up, moved to see tears welling in his blue eyes. Instinctively, she traced the path of a tear with her fingertip, elated when his mouth met hers.

She'd wondered what a man's kiss would be like, but nothing had prepared her for the wanton cravings that the gentle press of Ash's lips caused. When he deepened the kiss and coaxed her mouth open with his tongue, she was lost and would have allowed him any liberty.

Makenna's response to his kiss set Ash alight. He tasted the sherry she'd reluctantly agreed to imbibe after the meal. She sucked his tongue like a ravenous babe. It took a supreme effort to restrict himself to gently cupping a breast. If he stroked his thumb over the nipple, she'd be lost and grant him anything he asked. The aroma of female arousal played havoc with his manhood.

That was how it always worked with the women he'd known, but Ash didn't want the same kind of relationship he'd had with those other women. Makenna was special—an innocent he had no intention of despoiling. This time, he wasn't drunk.

He sensed great passion in Makenna and thirsted to be the man who ignited that passion. If he took her now, they would both regret it. The truth came as a pleasant surprise. The highlands had restored his moral compass or, perhaps it was Makenna herself who'd managed that impossible task.

Without forethought, he went down on one knee and took hold of her hands. "Marry me," he found himself saying.

Proposing to a woman so she'd fall into his bed was probably a rake's stock-in-trade. But the desperate plea in Ash's eyes made Makenna believe his proposal wasn't a trick. Perhaps she was being uncharacteristically naive, but she trusted him. "I would say aye," she said, pulling him up from his knees. "I'm flattered."

"I should be flattered that you'd consider marrying a reprobate like me."

She meshed her fingers with his. "I canna deny I'm drawn to ye, but ye should think about it. Ye canna truly wish to wed a highland lass ye've kent for two days. I'm a commoner and ye're from a noble family."

He lifted her hand to his lips. "Times are changing. Kenneth Hawkins married your cousin. He's a duke and Cat's a commoner. My sister is wed to Niven King. "

"Do ye love me?" she asked, her throat tightening when he shook his head.

"I'm afraid to say I love you, Makenna, because you won't believe me if I do. All I know is I have feelings for you that make me want to be the decent man I once was."

"And where would we live?" she asked. "Ye canna move in here with me and my parents."

He turned to study the modest stone cottage. "Why not? Looks sturdy enough to me."

"Because ye're used to living in a posh mansion. My parents are old and senile. They sometimes get on my nerves. Besides, they sleep in the only bedroom."

"Then we'll build another cottage. I can earn wages working for Tavish and Payton."

He believed what he was saying. The sincerity in his blue eyes told her that. "But, eventually, ye'll weary of manual labor, and life in the highlands can be harsh."

"You don't think I'm up to it," he said, the disappointment evident in his voice.

"Ye'll be like a fish out o' water," she replied, heartsick as a last chance at marriage, a happy family life and bairns of her own slipped away.

He leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs and studied his feet in silence for several minutes. "Can I ask you this? Do you care enough about me to be my wife?"

She saw no reason to lie. "Ye've captured my heart, Ash Halstead. I'd be honored to become yer wife, but…"

"Then it's settled. I want to marry you. You want to marry me. We'll get married and figure out the rest as it comes."

It was risky but, if she refused to accept the only man she'd ever craved, the chances of another passing through Glengeárr were slim to none. It was Ash she wanted. She swallowed the lump of fear lodged in her throat and said, "I accept yer proposal."