The Handfasting by Jenna Stone Page A

to
her. 
    She wanted nothing
more than to throw herself into his arms, to feel the welcome safety that his
strong arms would bring her.  She wanted to kiss him, to touch his warm skin
and to make sure that he was really here, alive and sitting right in front of
her.  She wanted to make love to him.  Despite her best efforts to push these
thoughts aside, her body betrayed her.  She felt the dull aching building
between her thighs as she looked at her beautiful husband.  Her breasts ached
for his kiss as her eyes traced over his familiar lips.
    Her beautiful
husband that did not remember her.
    Emma’s eyes looked
down and settled on the tattered red string band that was tied around the ring
finger on Gavin’s left hand.  Her heart nearly stopped beating when she
realized that he still wore it.  He still wore the ring that she had made for
him out of braided red twine.  She had tied that very ring to his finger the
morning that he left her.  To see her ring still tied to his finger gave her
hope.  It was a symbol of their love, a symbol of their past.  That tattered
ring gave her hope for the future.
    “I wanted tae tell
ye that I’m sorry,” Gavin started, his pulse hammering in his veins as he began
to speak the difficult words.  “I think that I owe ye an explanation, something
so that ye night ken what happened,” he began.
    Emma’s eyebrow raised
in question as she looked at him.
    “You broke my
heart today,” she said, regretting the words as soon as they fell from her
lips.
    “Aye?  I’m sorry
for that,” Gavin said sincerely.  He wanted to touch her, to bring her some
form of comfort, but he did not know how.  He sat stock still and watched her,
unable to ease her pain.  She was breath taking.  The firelight danced over her
radiant skin.  She was slight of bone, and blue eyes sparkled as they held back
tears. Her long blonde hair was unbound and fell in loose tendrils down to her
thin waist. She watched him, and she chewed absentmindedly on her full lower
lip.
    Gavin’s eyes
blazed over her lovely features.  He racked his brain, trying to remember.
    “Holden found me
at St. Martin’s Monastery, just outside of Inverness.  He knew me at once and
he stayed by my side until I recovered from this,” Gavin said as he turned his
head and showed Emma the scar.  The wound had nearly killed him, having split
open the side of his skull.
    Emma gasped and
held her hand to her mouth as she looked at the scar that nearly spanned six
inches over the side of Gavin’s skull.  His shorn hair had hid the scar well
and now she understood.  This injury is what had stolen his memory.
    And yet, here he
was.  The same beautiful man that she had loved so much that she had agreed to
handfast him less than a year ago.  She fought the urge to touch him, to run
her fingers over the scar and to tell him that everything would be alright. 
    Her heart
fluttered when she realized that she loved him still.  She loved him whether he
remembered her or not.  
    Emma stood up now,
trembling as she bridged the distance between them.  She took Gavin’s handsome
face gently between her hands and he closed his eyes.
    Her touch felt so
good, so right against his skin.
    Leaning down
slowly, she pressed her lips to the raised scar that was hidden beneath Gavin’s
hair.
    “I love you so
much, Gavin Mackinnon,” she whispered as tears spilled down her cheeks. 
“You’re here, alive before me and I couldn’t be more thankful.”  Together,
we’ll get through this,” she vowed as she settled herself onto his lap and
buried her face into his clean linen shirt.  She clung to him as she wept for
what they had lost, and her heart burst with joy from the simple fact that she
could touch him again.
    He’s alive!
    Gavin fitted his
arms around the beautiful lass.  He cradled her against his chest and rested
his chin atop her head.  Closing his eyes, he drank in her sweet scent.  She
smelled of heather and sunshine.