"A twisted ankle isn't much of a challenge for Bunny."
A dark-haired waiter came toward them with a tray. He set two glasses of lemonade on the table, plus a glass of warm milk. Marielle poured the milk into a plastic glass and snapped a spouted lid on top.
"Where's Buniel?" Leah asked. When the waiter gave her a blank look, she continued, "The other waiter? The blond one?"
The waiter frowned, shaking his head. "I'm the only one here right now. Let me know if ye need anything else." He turned and strode back to the kitchen.
Leah's skin prickled with goose bumps. "That was weird. Where did Bunny go?"
Marielle shrugged. "His work was done."
"But I didn't get to thank him."
Marielle smiled as she handed the cup of milk to her son. "You just did. He'll know."
Leah glanced over her shoulder. Was Josephine there? It was strange to think that all those years when she'd thought she'd been alone, she'd had a guardian angel. Heck, a week ago she hadn't even believed in angels or demons. And she'd thought vampires were nonsense.
Now she was falling for a vampire in a kilt. She smiled to herself. She couldn't wait to see his face this evening when he saw what she'd bought.
"The sun has set in New York." Dougal slipped his cell phone back into his sporran after calling Freemont. "I need to go back to work tonight."
"Marielle said they'd be down soon. Apparently they have a surprise for us." Connor strode to the sideboard in his library and poured two glasses of Blissky. "Thank you for coming. Marielle had a great time today with Leah."
Dougal nodded. "Thank you for loaning me a clean shirt and some socks."
"Ye're welcome." Connor handed him a glass. "Come back any time ye like."
Dougal sipped some Blissky. "Is it hard being married to a mortal? I mean, we can only be a husband or father at night."
Connor frowned at his glass. "Sometimes I feel guilty for no' being able to do more, but she claims I shouldna, that she's verra happy." He shrugged. "What is the alternative? To no' be with her at all? Then we would both be miserable."
Dougal winced. He would certainly be miserable if he had to give up Leah.
"I'll take fifty percent of her life rather than have none of it." Connor took a sip. "I have only the nighttime with her and Gabriel, but those nights are filled with joy."
"We're ready!" Marielle's voice called out.
Dougal and Connor strode into the foyer and looked at the top of the stairs.
Dougal's heart stilled.
Connor chuckled. "What a bonny lass ye are."
Marielle started down the stairs. She was wearing a formal ankle-length kilt in the Buchanan plaid, although Dougal hardly noticed. His gaze remained focused on Leah as she descended the stairs, smiling.
If imitation was the greatest form of flattery, then she was flattering him something fierce. The style of her kilt, shirt, knee socks, and sporran all closely resembled his own. But whereas he considered his clothes to be merely functional, on her they looked adorable. Sexy. He wondered if she was mimicking him to the point that she was bare beneath the kilt. Just the thought made his groin tighten.
She reached the bottom step, and he moved close so their eyes were level.
She smiled, her cheeks blushing. "What do you think?"
"I think ye're lovely. The most lovely lass I've ever seen." He took hold of her shoulders and gazed down at her kilt. "So ye're part of the Stewart clan now?"
"They didn't have any Kincaid kilts on the rack. Those have to be ordered, and it would take a few weeks." She glanced down. "But it's the same basic colors."
After dying for Bonnie Prince Charlie, the Stewart plaid was not one of his favorites, but he wasn't about to ruin Leah's fun. He made a mental note to order her a kilt in the Kincaid tartan as soon as possible. "I like yer red bonnet."
"The beret?" She grinned. "I bought one for you, too, so we could match."
"Och." He moved closer and whispered, "Do ye think we're a good match now?"
She nodded, her blush deepening.
He kissed her brow. She lifted her chin, so their lips were a fraction apart.
"And we have matching sporrans," Marielle announced. "See? Oh, excuse me."
Dougal glanced their way and discovered Marielle and Connor watching him and Leah with big smiles on their faces. He stepped back and pretended to admire Leah's sporran. It was too small for his taste, but perfect for her. Thankfully, his own sporran was large enough to hide the growing problem under his kilt.
"What kind of skin is it?" Connor stroked his wife's sporran.
"It's supposed to look like beaver," Marielle explained, "but they're faux fur. Leah and I couldn't bear the thought of any animals being harmed."
Connor chuckled. "Ye have kind hearts."
"I'm afraid we need to be going," Dougal announced.
While he said his good-byes to Connor and Marielle, Leah ran back upstairs to her room to collect the tote bag she'd brought the night before.
"I bought more stuff than I could fit in my bag," she said as she came downstairs with her bulging tote bag and more belongings bundled in a plaid shawl that matched her kilt. After saying good-bye to Connor and hugging Marielle and promising to return, she stepped outside with Dougal.
"This way." He took her bag and led her up a hill. "Watch yer step." The moon was shining brightly, but her night vision wasn't nearly as good as his.
She gave him a wry look. "Are we walking all the way back?"
"I want to show you something."
"You found a new underground lair?"
He chuckled. "Nay." At the top of the hill, he stopped.
"Holy crapoly," she breathed.
At the base of the hill, on a flat stretch of land, a stone circle gleamed in the moonlight.
"It's beautiful." Leah scampered down the hill, her bundled shawl clutched against her chest. "I love it!" She ran into the center of the stone henge.
As Dougal came down the hillside, he gathered up a small bundle of heather. "Here." He handed it to her. "To remember yer first trip to Scotland."
"Thank you." She fumbled with her sporran to drop the heather inside. "I'll always remember this."
Still holding her tote bag, he pulled her into his arms. "Perhaps the next time we come to Scotland, ye'd like to see my house on the Isle of Skye?"
"I'd like that."
" 'Tis a date then."
She grinned. "I guess we are dating."
"Aye." He kissed her brow. "Are ye ready to go back now?"
"Yes." She went up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck, leaving her bundle of clothes squashed between them. "Don't drop me."
"Never." He kissed her, then teleported them to the back porch of the townhouse.
She heaved a sigh of relief. "We made it." Grabbing her bundle, she stepped back and stumbled.
He steadied her. " 'Tis common to feel a bit dizzy." When he turned to unlock the door, she fell forward. "Och, I think we're attached."
"We're fused together?" she squealed. "Oh my God! I was afraid-"
"Relax! 'Tis only our sporrans."
"Huh?" She stepped back and his sporran lifted, hooked onto hers. "How did this happen?"
"The chain on yers is caught on one of my tassels." He tugged at the chain, but it was stuck. "Apparently, my muskrat is verra attracted to yer beaver."
She snorted.
"Stay close to me." He unlocked the door, and they sidestepped into the kitchen, waddling like penguins.
"It's so dark in here." She fumbled along the wall, hunting in vain for the light switch while he shut the door.
"I can see." He dropped her tote bag on the floor, then tried to unhook her chain from his tassel. "Och, my right hand is too clumsy. I doona want to damage yer beaver."
She scoffed. "Don't worry. It's fake beaver."
"Then when can I see the real one?"
"Ha!" She shoved at his shoulder, and he pulled her tight against him.
Her bundle of clothes fell to the floor, and she splayed her hands against his chest. "This isn't going to get us untangled."
"I like it this way." He nuzzled her neck as his hands slipped around her hips to her rump, then moved about.
"Are you looking for something?"
"I was wondering how authentic ye were. A real Scotsman would never wear drawers. Ah." He traced the line of her underwear. "What a shame."
"Well, I hate to disappoint." She smoothed a hand up his neck to his face. "I can always take them off."
His heart lurched. "Ye want to . . . ?" His eyes turned red, and she gasped.
"Are ye afraid?" he whispered, aware that his glowing red eyes might be all that she could see in the dark.
She skimmed her fingers over his cheek to his lips. "I'm falling for you."
His heart swelled. "Leah." Pulling her close, he kissed her thoroughly, hungrily. Her beret tumbled to the floor when he dug his hands into her hair. Her scent of jasmine filled his senses as he deepened the kiss.
He explored her mouth while his hands roamed her body. Her rounded hips, her narrow waist, her sweet breasts. She moaned, arching her back as he caressed a breast. It was plump enough to fill his left hand and sexy enough to make him hard. He tweaked the nipple, and she responded with a small gasp.