Page 72 of The Laird's Kiss
Rhiannon raced across the moors on the isle—on foot.
Oh, she had become quite fast in the years she’d been wed to Ian. Whether it was a race up the stairs to their bedroom, a race across the beach to see who could reach the water first, or a race after their two small girls, Rhea and Isla, they were constantly in movement.
This was the life she’d always wanted.
This was the life she’d been gifted.
Pure happiness.
And pure speed.
“Mama, so fast!” Shouted Rhea on her back.
“No! Dada so fast!” Ian broke in front of her, Isla clinging to his broad shoulders, as he sped forward the way she imagined he did on the fields of battle when he was called away.
And there had been many, but he always returned. Hale and hearty, and more passionate for her than the day he left. As if any moment spent away from her made his love and desire for her increase tenfold. He a starving warrior, and she the feast that healed.
“Mama, faster.” Rhea’s little hands pounded her shoudlers as if doing so would make her suddenly gain wings to fly. Rhiannon wouldn’t discount that. In moments like this, surrounded by her husband, her children, in a cloud of love and joy, she did feel like she was soaring.
“I’m… trying…” she laughed through her panting, picking up her pace.
Ian was always faster. He had longer legs, more practive. But she wasn’t too far behind. She never was. And there were plenty of days when she raced him after he’d been through a full day of training that she won.
Like today.
Their feet hit the sand of the beach, and Ian faltered, though it was only a second, it was enough that Rhiannon was able to get in the lead. And the isle provided, for the sea rushed up on the beach to met her, and she was the first with wet feet—which mean she’d won.
“We won!” shouted Rhea, her tiny heels kicking against Rhiannon’s ribs.
“I wanted to win,” pouted Isla.
“We all win,” Rhiannon said, setting down the little imp.
The two girls rushed off and Ian wrapped his arms around Rhiannon. “They are wrong. I am the one who won five years ago.”
“Nay, husband, it is I who have won.” It was an argument they played out daily, and not one they were bound to ever agree on.
But that made it all the more fun, for in truth, they had both won, and that much was clearly evident.
Their love was a victory, and their life the very adventure they both had sought.
