His hand finds its place at my waist while he gently takes mine in his other one. As we begin to sway together to the rhythm of the music, an electric current passes between us. His nearness is intoxicating; I can feel the warmth radiating from him.
“Mills,” he murmurs lowly next to my ear, making the small hairs rise on my skin. “There’s something I need to tell ye.”
My pulse quickens as I look up at him. “What is it?”
“I love you,” he says firmly enough that it leaves no room for doubt. “I’m madly, deeply... ridiculously in love with ye.”
I freeze at his declaration, thoughts whirling like tornadoes in my head.
Love. The very thing I’d given up on—the thing that caused me nothing but pain until I met Cal. I’m in love with him, too. But am I ready to admit it? Am I ready to risk this heart again?
As I look into Cal’s eyes, so full of hope and adoration, I make the easiest decision of my life.
“I love you too,” I say, my voice steady and sure.
The tavern falls eerily silent, as if everyone is holding their breaths. Cal glances around and chuckles at the unexpected audience we’ve gathered.
“Well, since we have an audience...”
Before I can comprehend what he means by that,he lets go of me and drops down on one knee, making the crowd gasp collectively. My hands fly up to my mouth.
“Amelia Grace Sutherland,” Cal begins, his voice thick with emotion. “From the moment your motorboat practically high-fived my sailboat, I haven’t been able to imagine my life without ye. Ye’re the keeper of my temper, the sharer of my scones, the woman I want beside me on every adventure. I love yer courage, yer compassion, even the way ye steal all the covers.”
Surprised gasps and gentle laughs fill the tavern. Cal’s hand finds mine, his touch an anchor in the sea of emotions threatening to sweep me away. Suddenly, he’s reaching into his sporran, pulling out a silver ring that sparkles against the worn leather.
“The village blacksmith has been crafting this for over a week,” Cal confesses.
As I catch sight of the intricate Celtic knot design, warmth unfurls in my chest. His thoughtful gesture is overwhelming.
“I didn’t have the coins for a traditional Luckenbooth brooch,” he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “But I hope this ring speaks to yer heart, at least for now.”
As his words sink in, tears prick at the corners of my eyes—happy tears that threaten to spill over and expose how deeply I’ve fallen for him. He’s asking mesomething now, a question that promises to change everything:
“Please, do me the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife? I’ll give ye foot rubs every night and all the toffee pudding ye can eat. Ye’ll want for nothing, except perhaps a white noise machine to block out my snoring.”
Tears are streaming down my cheeks, but I’m giggling at the same time. I probably look like I’ve lost it, but who cares?
I’m staring into the hopeful blue eyes of this amazing, adventurous man. The one who somehow brought my belief in forever-love back from the dead.
I used to think dating apps, lukewarm Pad Thai, my ridiculous Shoe Theory and Situationships with 2 a.m. booty texts were all I had to look forward to.
But Cal’s given me so much more. I’m pretty sure the only 2 a.m. text I’ll get from him is to make sure that I’m safe.
My heart’s doing a wild dance in my chest. If I get any happier, I might start levitating.
I think back to our walk around the graveyard, him sharing stories about the Highlands with such passion and authenticity. That’s when it hit me—this guy is for real. Cal is solid to the core.
Sure, this move might seem fast to my friends and family, but when you’ve literally jumped into a time vortex with someone, time gets a whole new meaning.
I’d leap anywhere with this guy. Timbuktu, themoon—even the 15th century, if he asked. I gaze at him, seeing pure adoration shining back at me, and it hits me: I don’t need to ask anyone else for advice this time—not Lila, not my parents, and definitely not Margot. I already know what I want.
“Yes,” I manage to choke out through all the emotion clogging my throat.
“Yes, Cal. A thousand times yes—I’ll marry you—or get handfasted,” I whisper to him with a grin. “Whatever they do here, let’s do it!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Alistair, Fergus, and Fi exchanging baffled looks—probably wondering why we’re making such a big deal out of something that was supposed to have already happened. But everyone else in the tavern is far too sloshed to care. They break into cheers as Cal jumps up on his feet and sweeps me off mine.
He twirls me around in his arms, and I laugh as I cling to him for dear life. He still smells like pine trees, smoke, and sweat from the battlefield, but underneath it all is that scent that’s uniquely Cal—the smell of leather mixed with salty sea air and spices.
