“My father’s…” She shook her head, slowly releasing the tension in the bowstring. “Ye asked my da if ye could marry me?”
Still smiling, he stepped closer, his hand rising to brush her cheek. “Why is that so hard to believe, Leanna?” he asked softly.
She willed herself not to melt into his touch, and instead, stepped back, away from him, her fingers still pinching the arrow’s fletching against the string.
“Why? Why?” Oh dear, she was turning hysterical, wasn’t she? “Because the last time I asked ye to marry me, ye laughed at me.”
His smile turned rueful, and he shrugged.
“Aye,” he said with a sigh, “but I apologized, did I no’? I was just surprised. Truly, I didnae expect a lass to do the asking.”
Remembering the embarrassed flush which had crept up her cheeks at his laughter, she shook her head defiantly. “This lass does the asking!”
“Aye, Leanna, and I’m glad for it. Because ye’re the lass I want.”
“Ye laughed, Kenneth.” Her fingers were beginning to ache.
He shrugged, damn him!
“I did. And then I made ye scream in ecstasy with my tongue, as I recall.”
He would bring that up, wouldn’t he?
“Ye only did that…”
Actually, why had he done that so soon after laughing at her suggestion?
Mayhap he saw her indecision in her expression, because Kenneth stepped forward once more, trapping the bow between them, and raised a hand to tuck a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear.
“I did that because I wanted to, Leanna. I’d wanted to from the verra first moment I saw ye, truthfully.”
Her throat had gone dry in anticipation. “’Twas only because I was naked.”
His lips twitched. “Aye, and a very fine figure ye presented, bathing in that pool. But twas no’ just yer body I wanted, Leanna, but ye. So this is me saying: Aye.”
“Aye, what?” she narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
“Aye, I accept yer proposal of marriage. If ye accept the name of McClure, I’ll be the best bloody husband ye can imagine.”
Leanna wasn’t good at holding grudges. She hadn’t been hurt that Kenneth had laughed at her proposal, just…embarrassed. And his tongue had made her feel better.
Besides, she’d been dreaming about a future with the man from almost the first moment she’d met him—he was her very own proof that Love at First Sight was real. So to hell with the objections.
A smile bloomed across her face, and she thrust herself up on her toes to capture his mouth with hers, as she did her best to control the nocked arrow pressed between them.
But the moment her lips touched his, her brain caught up with her ears.
Mc-who?
His hands had settled on her hips when she reared back. “Ye said yer name was Bruce,” she blurted accusingly.
He winced but didn’t release her. “Technically, I said ‘twas Smith, then Bruce. But ye kenned I wasnae telling the truth.”
“And now ye are? Ye’re a Maclune?”
“McClure,” he corrected. “And no’ just a McClure, but the McClure.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she wrenched herself out of his hold, stumbling backwards once more.