“She’s hatched a plan, hasn’t she?” Rory asked around a bite of pasty.
Leave it to Rory to cut to the quick of the matter. She loved that about her husband.
“She has,” said Juliet.
You set your gaze upon the world…
The line didn’t scan with the other, but she liked it. She wrote it down.
“Here.” Rory held out his half-eaten pasty. “You must try this.”
Juliet already knew there was no point in resisting. “You’re constantly feeding me, husband.”
His turquoise gaze turned serious. “You need to be ready.”
“And what is it I need to be ready for?”
He glanced down at her stomach, and she reflexively rubbed her hand across its still-flat expanse. Her menses were nearly two weeks late, but she hadn’t yet mentioned it to Rory as she didn’t want to spark hope. But now…with a bright summer sun shining on them and the air scented with gorse and sea…perhaps now was, in fact, the perfect time to speak it aloud. “Rory, the possibility may exist that I’m—” A knot of emotion formed in her throat. Here they were again. Those blasted tears.
Rory reached a strong arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Aye, lass.”
He’d noticed.
Of course he had.
His hand covered hers on her stomach, and they stared together out across the loch toward the brown and gold Cuillins. “What a place Scáthach built for herself,” said Juliet, and other words flowed, too, as she wrote them down. “Upon you they gazed and found not fearsome hero but undeserving girl.”
This line didn’t scan either, but it would get there. For all its frilly reputation, the composition of poetry was hard toil and certainly not for the faint of heart.
A moment beat by before Rory said, “My warrior poet.”
“I’m not sure Scáthach would’ve found use for a warrior poet. I suspect she’d have much preferred an ability to wield sword over quill.”
Rory directed his lopsided smile at Juliet. As ever, a melting sensation spread from dark, deep-set parts of her that only his smile touched.
“Ah,” came a velvet rumble from the depths of his chest, “but that would’ve been her loss, and certainly my gain.”
He tugged her closer, and his head angled so he caught her mouth with his.
As sparks flew through her and lit into flame that only her husband could slake, a thought came to her.
No longer did she wish this man to take a flying leap off Ben Nevis.
And if he ever did, she would be right there, taking flight alongside him.
The End