Michael stared down at her, not smiling, not frowning, not one readable expression on his face that she could see. When he finally did respond, the last thing she expected was amusement. “Aye, I can see my son is in for an interesting future,” he whispered, wrapping her in a fierce embrace and shaking her with silent laughter. “I couldn’t have wished for a better daughter-in-law, Catherine.”

“She’s not your daughter-in-law yet,” Robbie said from right beside them.

Catherine gasped and tried to step back, but Michael wasn’t through hugging her yet.

“Nay?” he chuckled, looking at Robbie and grinning. “Then maybe she should slip off her ring and give it back to ya.”

Robbie pulled her from Michael’s arms and led her away from the staring crowd. “What’

s going on here?” he asked, turning them so that his body blocked her from the gathering.

“We’re getting married in five minutes.”

Looking very much like his father, Robbie lifted one brow. “With or without me?”

Catherine shrugged. “You apparently didn’t need my consent eight hundred years ago, so I guess I don’t need yours today.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “But whether you say your vows or not, I’m sleeping in your bed tonight, husband.” She gave him a challenging smirk. “So if you don’t care what sort of example we’ll be setting for our children, go home and eat your pie. I’ll be down as soon as the ceremony is over.”

“You need a marriage license in this time.”

“Already done and filed at the county courthouse. Martha Bailey helped me.” She canted her head. “Not everyone has their marriage license notarized by a judge.”

“And just when did I sign this license?”

“You didn’t. Cody did. He’s really good at forging your signature. You might want to check with his teachers and see what other papers you’ve signed.”

“You let a judge notarize a forged signature?”

Catherine sighed, stepped around him, walked over and stood in front of Father Daar, and waited for Robbie to join her.

She hadn’t wanted the old priest to marry them, considering all the trouble he kept causing, but Michael and Greylen had asked her to, for their sakes and for Robbie’s.

Catherine smiled at Nora standing beside her and then over at Nathan, who was crowded beside Gunter and Rick and Cody and Peter, all waiting to stand as witnesses for Robbie. Finally, after what seemed like forever, a dark shadow blocked the setting sun, and Father Daar lifted his book and started speaking.

“No, stop,” Catherine said, setting her hand over the pages. “In English,” she demanded, removing her hand and reaching over and lacing her fingers through Robbie’

s.

Her new husband whispered his vows, and Catherine was tempted to shout hers, but in the end she repeated the words softly and clearly.

Since they were already wearing their rings, Robbie took her left hand in both of his and pressed their bands together. Catherine was expecting the magic this time, and when her ring warmed and her hand tingled, she simply smiled.

Their nuptial kiss, however, couldn’t have been more modest.

But Robbie’s kiss to Nora, when he scooped the beaming little girl up in his arms and gave her a loud, laughing smooch on the cheek, was heartwarming. And his handshake with Nathan was most manly.

Winter came forward leading Robbie’s horse, its mane and tail braided with long, flowing ribbons in the MacBain colors, its rump covered with an ancient-looking MacBain plaid. Catherine also noticed that Robbie’s sword—and the new stick he’d made her—were strapped to the saddle.

Her husband lifted her by the waist onto his horse and climbed up behind her amid a shower of birdseed and the cheers of those gathered on the summit.

“Where to, wife?” he whispered.

“To your cabin on West Shoulder Ridge,” she said as she waved and threw kisses to Nathan and Nora. “We’ll be back by noon tomorrow,” she told them. “You be good for the boys.”

She leaned back against Robbie’s chest with a sigh, looked up at him, and smiled. “How are your twelve toes feeling, Mr. MacBain?”

“They feel fine,” he said, looking confused.

Her smile widened. “Well, they won’t be in about an hour.”

“They won’t?”

“No, because I’m about to curl them, husband.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Robbie barely recognizedthe place. And from the look on his wife’s face as he carried her through the door, Catherine was just as surprised as he was.

The old cabin was spotless. All the broken furniture, the years of accumulated junk, and every last spider web and squirrel nest were gone. All that remained was a recently painted wrought-iron bed, a table and two chairs, a rocking chair, and the newly reblackened woodstove. The counter and cupboards had been painted red, there were new curtains in the windows, and even the floor was freshly painted.

And dozens of candles, just waiting to be lit, sat on every available surface.

Robbie looked down at his wife in his arms and found her looking around the cabin in shock. “I had no idea they were doing all this,” she whispered, looking up at him. “I just asked them to clean it up a bit.”

Robbie lowered Catherine to her feet and picked up the envelope leaning against the large three-wick candle sitting in the middle of the table. “I’m almost afraid to open this,” he said, holding it between them. “The last note I got was an invitation to my own wedding.”

She took the envelope from him, slit it open, and pulled out the card. “It’s the boys’

wedding present to us,” she told him, handing the card back. “They said every married couple with a houseful of hoodlums needs someplace to escape to.”

Robbie quickly read the card and tossed it down on the table, picked up his wife and set her on the counter, slipped between her knees, and locked his hands behind her back.

“I thought our deal was that our marriage didn’t start until you faced Daniels.”

She covered his lips with her fingers. “Sshhhh. Don’t even say his name. He no longer exists.”

“Aye, but he does, Catherine. I’ll not spend our wedding night with his ghost in our bed.”

“Even his ghost is gone,” she whispered, smiling into his eyes as she started unbuttoning his shirt.

Robbie covered her hands with both of his, shocked by her eagerness.

Shocked but not really surprised.

He’d been living with a stranger for the last three days, a woman who appeared confident and determined and now, obviously, quite brave.

“What happened this week?” he growled, holding her hands safely in his.

“I had a talk with a wise and rather insightful owl,” she said, pulling free and working the buttons open again.

“You talked with Mary?” he whispered, stopping her and holding on tighter this time.

“Shespoke to you?”

Catherine nodded. “We had a wonderful conversation. Mary explained how I was letting you do my thinking for me and that our marriage was never going to work as long as I allowed it to continue, that I had to start thinking for myself.”

“I was doing your thinking?” he repeated, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck.

“What in hell are you talking about?”

She tried to wiggle free, but once she realized he wasn’t letting her have her hands back, she sighed and shook her head. “Mary explained that it’s a guy thing, this need you and your father have for me to confront my ex-husband. Men choose the most direct approach to a problem, and it usually involves fighting. Your solution is for me to barge in with my stick raised, hellbent on purging my memories by beating them away. Am I right?”

“I didn’t mean for you actually to fight Daniels. I was thinking more of you facing him with me standing beside you.”

“And exactly what would that accomplish, other than for me to feel safe only as long as you’re around?”

“You’d also see that Daniels is nothing more than a bully.”