Finally, Libby joined in the love play and darted her sweet little tongue into his mouth as she arched her breast into his hand.

He thought about the blanket and the condoms in her pack and decided they were no longer needed. They were lying on a soft bed of dried, sun-warmed grass, and it was okay now to start making Robbie a brother or sister.

With tenderness and a newly declared love, they undressed each other in a wonderfully erotic dance that slowly stripped away all the barriers that had stood between them.

Finally, with both hearts fully engaged, Michael slowly entered Libby. Passion flared in her eyes as she lifted her hips to take him deeper, and her smile, which outshone the sun, hit him smack in the center of his heart—in exactly the same spot her well-aimed snowball had hit him just five short weeks ago.

Chapter Twenty-four

Libby sat on the top stepof her porch, bundled up to her nose in wool, enjoying the serenity of the night. Huge snowflakes were falling with quiet intensity, steadily building a pristine blanket over the slumbering land. The silence was absolute, broken only by the muted sounds of conversation coming from inside the house.

Kate was in there, sitting in front of a roaring fire, cuddling four-day-old Winter MacKeage. Grace was sitting beside her, sipping tea. Greylen had deposited his wife and new baby about an hour ago but had left to get his six other daughters before Libby could ask him why he hadn’t brought them in the first place.

Which was why she was out there now, waiting to see what Greylen had said would be a wonderful surprise.

It seemed all these Scots were big on surprises.

While she waited, embraced by the peace of the night, Libby thought about Michael’s secret. And Greylen’s. And Ian’s and Morgan’s and Callum’s. They were all men born in another time, Michael had told her. Once enemies, they were now united by their determination to make new lives.

How was it possible they had traveled through time?

What had Daar said that morning when he’d zapped her flowers awake? Time, he had told her, existed only for clockmakers.

And, apparently, it could be manipulated by wizards.

How unsettling. And frightening. Could Daar send Michael back to his natural time?

No, the old man must never get hold of his powerful staff. She was glad Michael had taken it, and she hoped he’d had the presence of mind to destroy it.

With no sound of warning, Mary quietly glided out of the darkness and landed on the porch rail above Libby.

“Well, hello there,” Libby said to the owl. “I see you got my invitation to our party.”

Mary blinked, then turned her head toward the living-room window.

“Have you seen your newest niece yet?” Libby asked.

“She’s quite an adorable little bundle of joy.”

The silent snowy sidestepped along the porch rail until she was even with the window.

She sat in silence and watched her sister and her niece.

Another sound gently echoed through the night, a soft jingling that slowly drew closer, interlaced with faint voices.

Libby stood, suddenly excited beyond words. Those were sleigh bells. And carolers, their song keeping rhythm with the beautiful bells. Heavily plodding hoofbeats added to the chorus, the symphony resounding through the air.

Libby ran down the length of her driveway to the road and watched as the huge sled slowly came into view. Two giant horses were pulling it, their bells jingling loudly and the lights hanging from poles at the corners illuminating more than a dozen people.

Libby continued to run down the road. The sled was full of MacKeages, some singing, some laughing, the children bouncing around like Ping-Pong balls. Ian was driving, the slash of his grin showing through his beard peppered with snowflakes. He pulled the horses to a stop, and Libby took his offered hand and climbed up beside him.

“Oh, my God. This is wonderful,” she said, turning to smile at the others. “What a perfect way to go to a party on Christmas Eve. Where’s Michael? And Robbie?”

“We thought they were here already,” Ian said, slapping the reins to move the horses forward. “No telling what Michael’s up to,” he said with a snicker, giving Libby a wink.

“They’ll be along soon, I reckon.”

Libby grabbed the side of the seat as the sled jerked forward and couldn’t quit grinning as they turned into her driveway, the horses breaking into a trot to power them up the steep incline.

They stopped in front of the porch, and Kate came out, her hands on her cheeks as she stared mutely in awe. The men jumped off first and started handing down children before helping their wives.

Libby refused to budge from her seat. “Go inside, everyone. Ian’s going to take me for a short ride,” she said, weaving her arm through his, giving him a sweet, pleading look.

“Only if yar mama can come,” he said gruffly, crowding against her and patting the seat beside him. “Come on, Kate. Get yar cute little behind up here.”

“I need to get my coat.”

“Nay. I’ll keep ya warm, lass,” Ian countered, patting the seat again. “We’ll just go for a short jog around the field.”

Kate needed no more coaxing. She stepped off the porch, waving their party guests into the house as she ran past, and raised her arms for Ian to lift her onto the sled.

Libby eyed the reins. “Can I drive?” she asked, again smiling sweetly at Ian. “It doesn’t look that difficult.”

He scowled at her, holding the reins protectively against his chest. “Nay. They’re temperamental beasts and will act up if they realize a woman is handling them.”

Libby scooted over, all the way to the edge of the seat. He could have just said no, without the woman comment. She was hiding the apple pie Kate had baked especially for him, and she was putting a good amount of cinnamon in his cider.

The chauvinistic old coot.

They made one full circle around the field before Kate’s lips started to turn blue, and Libby and her mom ran into the house and left Ian to deal with his precious horses.

Boisterous chaos greeted them; children were running and crawling after the overwhelmed kittens, the men were standing around the food table filling their mouths more than their plates, and the MacKeage women, holding babies of varying ages, were telling their men to save some food for the guests yet to arrive.

Libby’s eyes immediately went to Sadie MacKeage. Her height was like a magnet, and her blond hair shone like a beacon in the crowded room. Libby had met Sadie and Morgan just last week, when they’d come to the shop to buy their Christmas tree. She’d noticed then, when Sadie had taken off her mittens to pay, that the palm of her right hand was covered with burn scars.

The tall, beautiful woman set her daughter on the floor, and the toddler immediately took off in a tear after Trouble. That was when Libby realized her mistake. She never should have tied red ribbons around the kittens’ necks. The child—Jennifer, if she remembered correctly—nearly strangled Trouble. Jennifer’s grandmother Charlotte came to the rescue, quickly untying the ribbon and picking up Trouble for Jennifer to pet.

Libby immediately found Guardian and Timid and removed the dangerous decorations.

A glass of wine was handed to her, and Libby looked up to say thank-you but instead found herself smiling into the glaring eyes of Father Daar.

“Don’t say a word tonight, girl, about my staff,” he whispered through a tight smile of his own. “I don’t want Greylen knowing it still exists.”

“Oh? Why not?” she guilelessly asked, giving him back an equally quelling grin.

“Ya just never mind,” he muttered. “Is the eggnog spiked?”

Libby thought about telling him it wasn’t, then quickly thought better of getting a wizard drunk. “There’s a whole fifth of rum in it,” she told him. “Maybe you should stick to apple cider.”