"Agreed." So long as it’s secluded, she added to herself.

He rose from the desk and took the covered basket from her. Without another word, he opened the door and ushered her out into the sunshine.

His easy compliance surprised Helen as he led the way up a gentle slope fragrant with heather. Bees buzzed the pinkish-lavender blooms alongside the dirt path. As the hill grew steeper, Alex dropped back and cupped her elbow, helping her over the rocky, upland trail.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

He shot her a cryptic glance. "You'll see soon."

She took another look, and recognition excited her. The last time she'd been this way, snow had covered the great boulders, and the trees had worn their autumn grandeur. Already, she could see the crumbling gray stones through the trees up ahead.

The castle.

Nestled against a sheer rock cliff, the ancestral home of the MacBruts looked majestic in the sunlight, like an ancient warrior standing straight and tall. The square keep loomed beyond the twin towers. Something sweet and wistful stirred in her breast. Here, Alex had made her a woman. Here, they had conceived their son.

She expected Alex to set down the picnic basket in the meadow outside the stone walls. But he steered her through the open gate and toward the keep with its dismal aura of neglect. Helen slowed her steps. She wanted a new beginning, uncluttered by the past.

"We should have our picnic out on the grass," she protested.

"This willna take long. I've something to show you."

In the sunlight, his features had the rough splendor of an unpolished gemstone. Helen sensed a grim determination in him as they entered the castle. His fingers felt tense and stiff on her arm.

Their footsteps echoed through the vast chamber. Even in the midst of a summer day, the great hall was dim and cool. No cheery fire lit the huge hearth, and she found herself edging closer to Alex's warmth.

To her surprise, he slid his arm around her waist and let his hand rest on her hip. The breath faltered in her throat. She glanced up at him, wondering if his embrace was a thoughtless gesture. But his gaze was focused beyond her.

They stopped before a long table of gleaming oak. The polished silver candelabra glinted in the sunlight that streamed from the high windows. At one end, two fine china plates with crystal goblets were set as if for an intimate dinner.

Helen blinked at what had once been the cobwebbed banquet table. "Someone's cleaned it," she said in amazement.

Alex set down the picnic basket. " 'Twas me."

"You?”

He nodded, his eyes serious. "My father preserved the place because he was brokenhearted. Then I did so too to remind myself of my mother's cruelty. But I didna want Ian to carry on that legacy."

Helen hardly knew what to think. Was it possible Alex had changed? That he would cease to judge her by the mistakes of another woman?

He went on. " 'Twas I who told Flora to pack us a picnic. I wanted to show you what I'd done here." On that astonishing statement, he took Helen's arm and guided her up the winding stone stairs.

In the laird's bedchamber, too, much had been altered. A new mirror replaced the age-spotted one over the dressing table. Lemon-yellow silk draped the four-poster bed with its collection of plump feather pillows. The musty odor of neglect had been replaced by a fresh, flowery fragrance.

"Roses," she murmured. "You've refurbished this room, too. Why?"

"Surely you shouldna have to ask."

He gazed at her as if begging to be spared an explanation. But Helen had suffered too many lonely nights to forgive him so easily. Walking to the bedpost, she leaned against it for support. "I do have to ask. Tell me."

He glanced around as if the walls held the right words. After a long moment, he looked at her, his expression twisted with raw anguish. "I did it for you, Helen. To show you that the past doesna rule me anymore. To convince you to stay with me."

Her heart leapt with hope. Did he truly mean it? She took a shaky breath. "You need a mother for Ian, that's all."

"I canna deny the needs of our son." Alex's voice lowered to a hoarse murmur. "But I also need a wife. I need you, Lady Helen."

For once, he spoke her name like a caress instead of a curse. It wasn't a declaration of love, but close enough. She wanted to laugh and weep with joy. Clasping the bedpost to keep from running to him, she teased, "And just how would a big, braw man like you propose to keep his wife happy?"

A gleam entered his eyes. His gaze made a slow sweep of her from head to toe, lingering on places that ached for his touch. Then he strutted toward her. "I've a few notions in mind."

Her pulse beat faster. "Such as?"

He stopped so close she could feel his body heat. With his finger, he traced the edge of her bodice. "We might start by testing the new bed."

Helen drew in a breath. "And then?"

"And then I might spend a long while kissing you… touching you… pleasing you." He did just that, his mouth moving over the tender skin above her bosom, his hands reaching behind to unbutton her gown.

She tilted back her head, charmed by the magic of his seduction. It was a dream come true after all those lonely months of resolute hope and stubborn prayer. As her gown slithered to the floor, she reveled in the extravagance of sensation, the rare pleasure of his caress.

Her hands rested on his broad shoulders, but not for long. A boundless love overflowed her, spilling through her with the need to gratify him, too. She arched against him and kissed the rough features that had become so dear to her. They undressed each other and tumbled into the feather bed, nestling naked in a pool of sunshine and desire. He sought to go slowly, to prolong her pleasure until Helen writhed in frustration.

"Enough," she whispered, guiding him home. "I want you now."

As he joined their bodies, a moan of intense pleasure vibrated from her. He lay still, bracing himself with his hands on either side of her. His eyes were dark with passion-and regret. "I dinna mean to hurt you, lass. To take you so soon after giving birth."

"You'll hurt me only if you dinna hurryl"

She moved her hips, wanting all of him, drawing him deeper within herself. He groaned, setting the quickened pace she craved, the glorious friction that took her higher and higher until at last she plunged over the verge into a sea of perfect bliss. She was aware of him falling with her, his harsh cry echoing, his strong body shuddering. The happiness lingered when she came back to herself in the warm shelter of his arms. Her husband. She wanted to stay right here in bed with him forever. If only she could.

She stroked his bristled cheek. "We should have our picnic soon."

With a wicked grin, Alex brought her hand to his loins. "Was this not feast enough to satisfy you, wife?"

Helen laughed. "Certainly. I only meant we'll need to return home in a while. Lest our son howl for his next meal."

"Ah, the lucky lad must have his feast, too." Appreciatively, Alex caressed the swell of her breasts. Then he gazed into her eyes. "Helen, you ken we took no risk today. A nursing mother canna get pregnant-"

"Dare I trust your knowledge of fertility?" she teased.

His grin lasted only for a moment. "I dinna like to burden you with another bairn if 'tis not your wish."

"But Ian needs brothers and sisters. And I would like a big family. Wouldn't you?"

"Aye, very much." He cupped her cheek in his big hand, and a look of yearning lit his craggy features. "My dearest lady," he murmured with stirring possessiveness, "I do love you."

Her throat tightened from the fulfillment of her dreams. "You needn't say that to keep me. I love you enough to stay."