s middle. “At the rate you two are going, your firstborn will be sprouting teeth before ya

’re properly wed.”

Sadie stepped back, covering her belly with her hand. “What firstborn? What are you talking about?”

“Are ya telling me it was an innocent nap you two were just having?” Father Daar asked.

Sadie felt her face heat to near flaming.

“We’ll say our vows as soon as she understands,” Morgan repeated.

“You’ll say them now before me and God, or I’m going home and washing my hands of ya. There’s a terrible storm brewing in this valley that’s needing your attention. But not until you’re properly wed.”

Still unable to raise her mortified eyes above Morgan’s belt, Sadie waited for him to decide if he really wanted to marry her or not. If they were all dead, what did it matter?

And if they were really alive?

“If—if you don’t want to get married, we won’t,” she said to his chest, still unable to raise her eyes any higher, fearing what she might see in his. “We’ll forget the rest of the week and just go our separate ways now.”

She was suddenly hauled up against Morgan’s side, turned to face the priest, her ribs crushed so fiercely it was a wonder they didn’t crack.

“Begin!” Morgan snapped to Father Daar.

As a declaration of love, that one word sounded magical to Sadie. Yes, they would begin their life together right now. And they’d have the most blessed union heaven had ever seen.

Their vows would be real this time, in this wonderful place that was more beautiful than any church Sadie had ever seen. They would have a storybook marriage that would last for eternity.

Father Daar had taken a small book out of his pocket and had already begun reading their vows. Sadie smoothed down the front of her flannel shirt and decided she probably should pay attention. But the moment she started listening, she realized she didn’t understand a word the priest was saying.

She squinted and leaned forward to see the book he was reading from, and she didn’t recognize any of the words. She covered the page with her hand, making him frown up at her.

“What language is that?” she asked.

“Gaelic,” Daar said, moving the book from under her hand and holding it up again.

“But I don’t know what you’re saying,” she interrupted, making his frown deepen. “Can’

t you translate it into English? And why are you using Gaelic to begin with?”

He cleared his throat, turned his frown into a glare, and shot it at Morgan, then back at her. “Because it’s our language, girl,” Father Daar said impatiently. “And since we outnumber you two to one, we get to choose the vows.”

Sadie waved at the book. “Then say them. But we’re going to add our own vows—in English, so I know what I’m promising.”

With a lift of his eyebrows at her impertinence, Father Daar raised the book up and began reading again. The words sounded more like curses than pledges to Sadie, with sharp consonants and guttural vowels that were more spat than spoken.

Faol had come to view the proceedings and was sitting beside Sadie, leaning on her leg, his tongue lolling out and his eyes a sappy iridescent green as he stared up at her.

Morgan, disturbingly silent beside her, had her right hand clasped so tightly Sadie thought he was afraid she’d change her mind before the service was over.

Father Daar suddenly quit speaking and turned expectant blue eyes on her. Sadie guessed she was supposed to say “I do.”

She took both of Morgan’s hands into hers, straightened her shoulders, and started her vows.

“I love you, Morgan MacKeage. And I promise to be your wife for all eternity, to cherish you, to honor your spirit, and to guard with my soul this love that we’ve found.”

She squeezed his hands. “And we’ll have lots of babies together and raise them in a house overflowing with love. We’ll teach them the wonders of nature and bring them up… bring them up… ”

She couldn’t go on. Her heart was near to bursting, she was getting all mushy inside, and a lump the size of a basketball was caught in her throat. She shook her head and swallowed and forced herself to continue.

“And I promise to love you forever,” she finished on a choked whisper.

That finally said, Sadie sucked in her breath and waited for Morgan to say his vows.

“You’re mine,” he growled, pulling her so forcibly into his chest that the air rushed out of her lungs with a gasp.

You’re mine?

That was it?

Morgan’s mouth covered hers with that same downright possession she’d seen in his eyes. He kissed the outrage right out of her before it could gather a foothold. And he kissed her some more, until the impatient coughing of a scandalized priest broke them up.

“It’s done, then,” Father Daar said with finality, rather loudly. “Now, let’s eat. We’ll have us a wedding feast of nice tasty trout. Stop mauling your wife, Morgan, and catch us some supper.”

But her husband wasn’t paying the priest any mind. Sadie pinched Morgan in the side to get him to come up for air.

“Go catch us some trout from one of the cooler pools below, Morgan,” Father Daar said, taking Sadie by the arm now that she was free of Morgan. “We’ll build a fire, cook your catch, and then you and I will set our minds to convincing your wife that we all have many years left before we finally see heaven,” he added, walking her toward the sandy beach by the pool.

He looked back over his shoulder at Morgan and crackled with laughter. “Not that you have any chance of getting there yourself, warrior. They rarely allow pagans through the gates.”

Sadie didn’t know what surprised her the most, that the priest had called her husband a pagan or that he’d called him a warrior.

Morgan picked up his sword and settled it over his back, his glare fierce enough to fry Father Daar where he stood.

“You may begin the explaining without me, old man,” Morgan said. “Faol.Tàr as.

Falbh,” he added, waving the wolf toward the exit of the pool, then walking through the towering trees himself.

Staring at the spot where he’d disappeared, Sadie posed her question to the priest.

“What did he just say?”

“Tàr as?”Father Daar repeated. “It means ‘move off’ or ‘go.’ Andfalbh means ‘guard.’”

He started walking around the cathedral-like grotto and picked up small pieces of wood. “He’s set the wolf to guarding the entrance,” he said as he continued his work, putting the branches into a pile. He straightened and looked at her. “I told you befriending Faol would come in handy one day.”

Sadie put her hands on her hips and faced the priest. “So you’re saying this Maine wolf knows Gaelic?” she asked. “A language that’s been dead for hundreds of years?”

He sat down on the moss near the pile of branches he’d made and looked up at her. “It’s not dead, girl. Gaelic’s still spoken in some parts of Scotland.” He suddenly grinned.

“Now, watch,” he said, touching the branches with his skinny cane while he muttered some words under his breath.

The wood erupted into flames, and Sadie stepped back. She quickly stepped closer, glaring at the now crackling fire.

“That’s not magic,” she said. “Not in heaven. Anything’s possible here,” she said, waving at the tall granite walls.

Father Daar sighed loudly enough to be heard over the noise of the waterfall and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked up at her and patted a place beside him. “Come. Sit with me, Mercedes, so that I can explain what has happened to you.”

With a sigh of her own, Sadie sat down beside the crazy old priest and stared at the softly crackling fire.

“Do you remember my visit last week?” Daar asked, using his cane to push more wood onto the fire. “And your feet? Were the cuts not healed the next morning when you woke?”

“They were gone,” she admitted, frowning to herself.

“And were you not alive when that little miracle happened?”