Epilogue
“There is no remedy for love but to love more.”
~Henry James
Saturday, May 15, 1976, Gillian Angelina Adair of San Francisco married Angus Brian Cameron lately from Northern Scotland, in a wedding ceremony attended by family and friends on the cliffs above the Pacific Ocean at Lands End.
Nestled in a honeymoon treehouse deep in the redwood forest of Santa Cruz, Brian woke her with slow kisses and ardent caresses before dawn. This spot, near the first place they’d made love, was Brian’s wedding gift to her. Her father had helped him find the location, and they kept the secret until her constant fretting about what to pack for their honeymoon forced them to reveal the surprise.
The depths of their passion continued to stun Angel. She fell deeper in love with her San Francisco Highlander every time they came together, and it hadn’t been as often as she’d wished during the past few months. “I wish Daniel and Charlotte had been with us yesterday.” Angel spoke with a wistful sigh that conveyed a wealth of sadness and loss. “I can’t believe they’ve found no lead on Char. How does one disappear into thin air?”
Angel froze. “You don’t think…No. No, we spent weeks trying to find your portal and found nothing.”
Angel sat up in bed. “What if she can’t be found because she isn’t here? I mean, Granny only has vague hunches about Char. Surely after all this time, something should have surfaced in that wonky brain of hers, some image or…hell, I don’t know what she experiences when she ‘sees’ the future. What if she’s fallen through time? After all, Granny’s first experiences were on the east coast.”
“Hush, my love. We won’t unravel this mystery today. Let’s focus on us for the next few days.” Brian petted her with soothing hands and sweet words.
“Of course, you’re right. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions, should we?
She snuggled into their covers, relaxing under his ministrations. “You’re trying to distract me.”
“Aye, my love, ’tis my fondest wish.”
Angel pushed a hand against his chest and looked him in the eye. “I won’t give up trying to find her, Brian. We owe her that much, at least.”
“You have my word, love. We won’t give up our search. For now, however, I believe we have other matters to explore.” He cocooned her with his body pressing kisses over her lips and shoulders, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the scent of her hair.
“I love the smell of your hair, your skin, the taste of you on my tongue.” His tongue rasped down her neck until he reached the tender peaks of her breasts in demonstration, and mumbled between kisses. “Mayhap we’ll name our first son after Daniel, hmm?”
“Oh, yes…that feels…wonderful.” Pulling out of the haze caused by his searching mouth and warm hands on her body, his words finally registered, and she rested her hands over his to slow the building passion. “I like Daniel for a son’s name, but what shall we name our daughters?” Her words came on soft huffs of breath.
His gaze lifted to her face. “Daughters, plural?” He slid up and rolled them to their side nose to nose. “I like the sound of that. A half dozen little Angel’s running us ragged, all with russet colored hair and flashing green or azure eyes, like their beautiful mother’s eyes. I think about a half dozen of each would serve us well.” His tongue slipped over her lips, his thigh nudged between her legs.
She smacked his ass playfully, distracted from sad memories that swirled just beneath the surface. “You’re insane. I’ll not be having a litter, thank you very much. Two or three will suit me just fine.” she chuckled in his ear as she leaned forward to tug gently on his earlobe with her teeth. “I have one request though. I’ve decided I don’t want to fill our children’s heads with all this blather about time-travel. I think it set both Daniel and me on courses that brought unnecessary difficulties. Would you mind keeping that a secret from our children?”
He lifted his chin, giving her access to his neck and shoulder. “If that is your wish, I will comply. But our children must know their Scottish heritage, ‘tis most important that they know the valor and courage of their ancestors.”
“Agreed.” She claimed his mouth with fervent heat.
“Sooo, my bonnie lass, what shall we name our first little angel? I rather like the name Andra. It was my auntie’s name, my mother’s sister.”
“Oh, I like it. It’s also Granny M’s middle name. Did you remember that? How about Andra Heather Adair Cameron? My grandfather wanted the parents to name me Heather. A thoroughly proper name for the daughter of a fierce Highland warrior, don’t you think?”
He pushed her against the bed, pressed himself between her legs, and eased into her warmth. “Ahh. My heart, my sweet Angel-mine.” He began a slow thrust and withdrawal, driving her mad with impatience. “Shall we start on these lusty lads and lasses today, my love?”
She lifted her hips to meet his next thrust. “No. I told you, no babies until we’ve both finished school. We’ll have to settle for lots and lots of practice.”
He pulled out and slid down her body swirling his tongue over every mound and crevice until he found the hard nub of nerves between her thighs. With exactly the right amount of pressure, he caused her to lift off the bed screaming his name until he rose over her and entered with one smooth thrust. “You drive me wild when you scream my name, mo chuisle a ghrá, my pulse, my heart. My most precious love.” His trusts grew more urgent. “I can think of many positions we must practice. Lots and lots of practice will suit me just fine.”
After that, only the sweet slide of flesh against flesh, and the pants and groans of love’s heightened passion joined the sound of a spring breeze whistling through the trees.