"Then you go with my blessing," Quinn said clearly.
Grimm extended his arms to Jillian, who slipped into his embrace. Before he could succumb to the urge to kiss her senseless, he tossed her on Occam's back and mounted behind her.
Jillian scanned the worried faces around her. Ramsay was gazing at Grimm with a shocking amount of hatred in his eyes, and she was momentarily flustered by the intensity of it. Quinn's expression was a blend of concern and reluctant understanding. She finally spotted her da where he stood with her mother a dozen feet away. Elizabeth's face was grim. Gibraltar held her gaze a moment, then nodded encouragingly.
Jillian leaned back into Grimm's broad chest and gave a small sigh of pleasure. "I would live any kind of life I had to live, so long as I lived it with you, Grimm Roderick."
It was all he needed to hear. His arms tightened around her waist, he kneed Occam forward and together they fled Caithness.
* * * * *
"Now that's my idea of how a man takes a woman to wife," Gibraltar observed with satisfaction.
* * *
AN ILLYOCH PROPHECY
Legend tells that the
Clan Illyoch will prosper for one thousand years,
birthing warriors who will accomplish great good
for Alba.
In the fertile vale of Tuluth a castle shall rise
around the Hall of Gods and many shall covet
what belongs to Scotia's blessed race.
The seers warn that an envious clan shall pursue
the Illyoch until they are but three. The three will
be scattered like seeds uprooted by the wind of
betrayal, cast far and wide, and all will appear to
be lost. Much grief and despair will descend upon
the holy vale.
But harken to hope, sons of Odin, for the three
shall be gathered by his far-reaching grasp. When
the young Illyoch finds his true mate, she shall bring
him home, the enemy shall be vanquished, and the
Illyoch shall thrive for a thousand years more.
* * *
CHAPTER 25
they rode hard until early evening, when grimm drew Occam to a stop in a copse of trees. Upon leaving Caithness, he'd tugged a plaid from his pack and secured it tightly around Jillian's body, forming a nearly waterproof barrier between her and the elements.
He hadn't uttered a word since then. His face had been so grim that she'd kept her silence, allowing him time and privacy to muddle through his thoughts. She'd nestled back against him, contentedly savoring the press of his hard body against hers. Grimm Roderick had come for her. While such an inauspicious beginning might not be the perfect way to start a life together, it would do. For Grimm Roderick to steal a woman from her wedding, he must intend to care for her the rest of her life, and that's all she'd ever desired—a life with him.
By the time he drew Occam to a halt, the freezing rain had abated but the temperature had plummeted. Winter was encroaching, and she suspected they were headed directly for the Highlands, where the chill winds gusted with twice the vigor as in the Lowlands. She clutched the plaid snugly around her, sealing out the cold air.
Grimm dismounted, lowered her from the saddle, and held her for a moment. "God, I missed you, Jillian." The words exploded from him.
She tossed her head, delighted. "What took you so long, Grimm?"
His expression was impossible to interpret. He glanced self-consciously at his hands, which were badly in need of a washing. He busied himself with a flagon of water and a scrap of clean plaid for a moment, removing the worst of the stains. "I had a wee bit of a skirmish on the way and…" he mumbled inaudibly.
She studied his disheveled clothing but decided not to ask him about it then. The mud and blood appeared to be from a recent fight, but what had happened in the last few days wasn't her first concern. "That's not what I meant. It took you over a month. Was it so difficult for you to decide if you wanted me?" She forced a teasing smile to camouflage the wounded part of her that was utterly serious.
"Never think that, Jillian. I wake up wanting you. I fall asleep wanting you. I watch a magnificent sunrise and can think only of sharing it with you. I glimpse a piece of amber and see your eyes. Jillian, I've caught a disease, and the fever abates only when I'm near you."
She flashed him a radiant smile. "You're nearly forgiven. So tell me—what took you so long? Is it that you think you're not good enough for me, Grimm Roderick? Because you're not titled, I mean." When he didn't respond, she hastened to reassure him. "I don't care, you know. A title doesn't make the man, and you're certainly the finest man that I've ever known. What on earth do you think is wrong with you?"
His stubborn silence didn't serve as the deterrent he intended; she scurried down an alternate route of inquiry. "Quinn told me that you think your father is mad and you're afraid you've inherited the madness. He said it was nonsense and I must tell you I agree, because you're the most intelligent man I've ever met—except for the times when you don't trust me, which evidences a glaring lapse in your customary good judgment."