Her expression suddenly brightened, and her eyes sparkled. “You stay put,” she said, pointing a threatening finger at him. “Or I’ll come up with some consequences of my own.”

He solemnly nodded, then waved her on her way, watching her climb into her odd little boat and expertly guide it into the current.

He leaned back on his elbows again, letting the weak autumn sun warm up his skin as he watched Mercedes slowly disappear past the bend in the river. He couldn’t quit grinning. He liked that she wasn’t afraid to throw his words back at him. He liked her sassiness and her determination to match both wit and will against him.

But mostly he liked her ass. Mercedes had the nicest, firmest, most delectable bum—and the longest legs he’d ever seen on a woman. Aye, she pleased him in all ways, with her body as well as her spirit.

They’d make great babies together. She’d give him strong sons who would grow to love and cherish this land as much as their parents did. He was glad now that the old priest had talked him into building a home here. He was also glad that Grey had had the foresight to banish Daar’s cane into the pond.

Because, like his brother, Morgan was now decided that he never wanted to leave this suddenly interesting new world.

When Mercedes finally disappeared around the river bend, Morgan set the needle and thread to his flesh and quickly repaired his wound—before his wife could return and make a mess of the job.

Chapter Fifteen

You need to stay off your leg.”

“No. I need to keep it from stiffening up.”

“Faol is eating your moose again.”

Morgan muttered a few Gaelic words as he threw a rock at Faol to drive him away from the moose carcass still lying on the river bank. Faol gave a snarl of protest, then trotted off into the brush.

“We need to find a game warden and report the kill,” Mercedes said from the campfire, drawing his attention. “And you need to put some clothes on. The sun’s setting.”

Morgan stopped tugging on the antler of the now gutted moose and scratched his bare chest as he looked at his clothes drying by the fire. He had pants on, but they were covered with moose blood. He had already carried the entrails far enough away that they wouldn’t be bothered by scavenging animals, and he was ready to wash up. The problem was, all his clean clothes were still wet from their dunk in the river.

He looked at Mercedes’ dry packs sitting by the tiny tent she had already erected so that it would be dry by nightfall. He needed to get himself some of those bags, since he’d likely be spending time camping with his wife and children in the future.

Mercedes seemed so at home here in the wilderness, so comfortable sitting on logs, cooking over an open fire, and sleeping on the ground. She guided her boat as if she had been born with a paddle in her hand and hiked these woods with the confidence and excitement of a wanderer determined to embrace life.

Morgan realized how lucky he was to have found such an old soul in this modern time.

“Why do we need to find a game warden?” he asked, walking over and picking up one of his still damp shirts.

“Because it’s illegal to kill a moose out of season. And even then you need a permit.”

He slipped into his shirt and sat down across from her. “But I’ll have it quartered and carried to Gu Bràth by tomorrow afternoon. No one need even know about it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That makes you a poacher.”

He didn’t care for that title any more than he cared to hear it coming from his wife’s mouth. “I am not. The animal is dead through no fault of my own. I didn’t go hunting for it. But that doesn’t mean I intend to let the meat go to waste.”

“The warden will probably let you keep the moose, once we explain what happened. He won’t want to see it go to waste, either. What’s Gu Bràth?”

“It’s my brother’s home,” he told her.

“I thought it was called TarStone Mountain Resort?”

“That’s the business name. Our home is called Gu Bràth.”

“Is it Scottish? What does it mean?”

“Forever,” he told her. “It means that we’re here now, forever.”

“But you don’t live with your brother anymore?”

“No. I built my home on Fraser Mountain just this summer.”

She scooted closer, suddenly interested. “Does your new home have a name?”

Morgan leaned back against a rock, crossed his arms over his chest, and grinned at her.

“I thought I’d leave that chore up to my wife.”

She frowned and scooted away, giving her attention back to the food she was preparing.

She stirred the powdered soup she had dumped out of a foil pack and added more water.

Morgan stood and picked up his sword and a few clean clothes, then took the water bottle from her. “I’m going to find a place to wash up and refill our drinking water,” he said. “Before it gets too dark.”

“You need to stay off that leg.”

He took hold of her chin and lifted her face up. “What I need is for you to spread our sleeping bag at the base of that ledge over there and stuff a thick bed of dry grass under it.”

He watched her eyes suddenly widen. “What… what’s wrong with the tent?” she whispered.

“I don’t like tents,” he said succinctly. “They keep me from seeing into the woods.”

“They keep you dry when it rains.”

He bent down and gave her a quick kiss on her arguing mouth. “Nature provides our shelter. That ledge will keep us dry tonight. Now, are you gripping my leg because you don’t want me to go or because you’re looking to leave another mark on me?”

She swatted his knee and pulled her chin free, glaring up at him. “I want you to tell me why you’re always so guarded. You act as if the entire world is out to get you.”

Morgan settled his sword over his back as he looked down at her. “I didn’t come all this way to die at the hands of fools.” He bent at the knees so he was level with her and took hold of her chin again. “And you must be on guard as well, Mercedes. There is a storm brewing in this valley, and it has nothing to do with the weather. There is danger here.”

She tried to pull away again, but Morgan wouldn’t let go. “I’m not jesting, Mercedes.

The Dolan brothers are not to be trusted. You need to be just as guarded as I am.”

“You expect me to trust you without question, don’t you?”

He grinned and spread his fingers to encompass her entire face. “I expect obedience,gràineag, when it comes to your safety.”

She suddenly leaned forward, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him off balance.

They both ended up on the ground, Mercedes stretched full-length on top of him. She kissed him, her tongue slipping inside his mouth as she sensually wiggled her sexy body against his.

Morgan immediately placed both of his hands on her luscious bum, pulling into his erection with a groan of frustration. He wanted her again.

But not like this, with nothing but dirt for a bed.

Going against every urge he possessed, Morgan took hold of her shoulders and lifted her away. His teeth clenched in restraint and his gaze locked on her swollen lips, he set her on the ground beside him.

“Tonight, wife, we will finish what we began last night.”

She blinked at him, then scrambled away. With another curse, Morgan stood up and walked into the forest without looking back.

And Sadie couldn’t decide if she had just been rejected or threatened. Or if she should be insulted or scared.

And she couldn’t decide if Morgan kept calling her wife to rile her or if he thought she needed to be constantly reminded of that disconcerting fact.

She would like to be his wife. Maybe. She could imagine what it would be like waking up beside Morgan every morning for the rest of her life, her in her nightgown buttoned up to her neck, him buck naked and beautiful.

Sadie snorted, went back to the fire, and stirred the soup. She was weaving a dream fantasy for herself. But she hadn’t felt this alive, this excited about what the future might hold, since before the house fire.