As soon as they were no longer touching, both felt some awkwardness settle in. Edward moved around what used to be her desk, previously his desk, and gathered up a stack of papers and folders. He pulled a leather messenger bag from the floor that she had never seen before. He saw her look at it curiously as he hastily threw the documents and notes into it.

"Da's," he explained. And then a bit self-consciously added, "The Diageo consultant recommended it...to keep track of everything."

"Good idea," she said with a small, encouraging smile.

Inwardly, she felt a pang in her chest as she remembered the drink conglomerate who had purchased Sleat. She knew it would have happened, Edward had said as much when he wrote the check and gave her her money back on that fateful day.

She shook the thought away.

And then he rounded the desk and reached for her hand. She took it, feeling the same need to be touching, to be sure she was really there.

"To home?" he asked, meeting her gaze with a startling intensity.

She nodded.

Jasper was finishing up a tour in the lobby when they walked by, still hand in hand with matching grins. She felt herself blushing as all of the curious eyes turned to her, but she didn't care. Jasper broke off mid-sentence, gawking at them. Carlisle was watching from the front corner, a giant grin across his face.

"Bella?" Jasper called as they were crossing the threshold. "It's good to see ye, lass."

Isabella smiled back at him and returned his sentiment with a warm nod.

They drove to the white house on the Trotternish Peninsula, Edward leaving his car behind in order to ride with her. The drive was filled with small talk, a facet of two near strangers reconnecting. He asked her details about her flight and about the winter in the US and she in turn asked about Esme and Alice and commented on the long days of sunlight they now had in June. Across the pond, the music legend, Michael Jackson, had just died. He asked if the US was descending into chaos, she responded that it was close.

Their chatter continued until they pulled into the driveway, at which point Isabella fell silent. Edward looked over at her nervously as she took in a slow breath and looked at the house. He was about to ask if she was alright when her lips quirked up into a fond smile.

They got out of the car and started towards the house. Edward noticed that she didn't grab her suitcase from the back of the car but didn't say anything. He felt his heart pounding in his chest with nerves at her being back and so close to him.

Isabella followed Edward into the kitchen, where he set down his bag on the counter and she moved to perch on the stool, just as she had done every morning of their marriage.

"Can I get ye a drink? Whisky? Wine?"

"That would be lovely."

Edward disappeared into the pantry and returned with the bottle of 20 year malt and two tumblers about a minute later. He carefully poured a glass and handed it over to her. And then he watched with a grin as she took a sip and closed her eyes, as if to savor it.

"I've missed this," she said as a way of explanation when she opened her eyes to his gaze.

Unsure precisely which "this" she was referring to, he simply replied, "Aye."

Edward then settled into a rhythm in the kitchen, moving around it with ease as he started to prepare them dinner. He was immediately reminded that she was a woman comfortable with silence and smiled to himself at the quiet companionship. Despite it being the same noise level as he was used to in the empty house, there was a warmth in the room.

"How has Sleat been doing?" she asked lightly.

At that point, Edward was in the midst of chopping potatoes. He thought about it for a minute before replying, "Good. We're getting by...stable at the very least."

"Stable is good," she replied diplomatically, taking a sip of her whisky.

Edward made a Scottish noise in the back of his throat that she had come to mean was neither agreement nor disagreement, rather it was simply acknowledgment.

"And the new operating agreement is going well?" she asked curiously.

Edward turned a twinkling grin to her. "The Diageo contract is in my bag, hen, if ye want to read it."

Isabella appeared chastised. "Oh no, no I don't need to."

"Right in the yellow envelope," he added with a wink.

Isabella took another sip, raising her eyebrow at him playfully. He simply nodded at the bag and returned to his chopping.

Unable to help herself, she found the envelope and pulled the contract out. Even though she had left her past life of mergers and acquisitions behind, there was a certain sense of familiarity that came with reviewing such materials. Within moments she was entirely immersed.

For the most part, it was a standard agreement. Diageo owned 51% of the company, enough to have the ultimate say in operational and strategic matters but little enough to maintain some sense of control for the MacDonald family, owners of the 49%. There was language in the contract that dictated that the strategic direction would ultimately be decided by Diageo and that included any changes to production, staffing, and distribution.

One of the last pages of the contract caught Isabella's eyes and made her read it three times. She looked up after the third time and found Edward staring at her, his chopping fully forgotten as he leaned against the counter with his whisky in hand.

"There's a contingency in the contract?" she asked.

There was a contingency agreement that stated the MacDonald family had the right to void the contract with written notice at any point during the first 12 months of the agreement.

"I would no sign without it."

Isabella could not imagine that was easy to negotiate.

Diageo must have wanted Sleat desperately to agree to it.

"Why?" she asked.

"In case you came back."

Isabella simply stared at him, unable to vocalize the overwhelming swell of emotions she felt at those five words.

Edward crossed the space over to her, setting his whisky on the counter and cradling her face with his large hands.

"Bella, I'm sorry for what I said. That day. I'm sorry I believed the worst of ye."

She tried to shake her head against his tender grip. "You were right. I'm sorry I was ever a part of any of it. I should have-"

"-I understand. I will no blame the woman I love for the selfishness of others and I should no have blamed you that day.".

Isabella blinked and then a smile spread across her face, confusing him for a moment.

"I love you too, Edward."

His lips descended on hers with the same tenderness that he had exhibited to her since the moment they met. Tenderness that had evolved into friendship, desire, and made way for love. As their lips moved, she melted into him, allowing herself to finally be loved by the man who had become everything to her.

When they broke apart to catch their breath, his eyes met hers.

"Stay."

It was a demand, a request, and a plea all wrapped into one word.

"Be my wife, Bella. Really, truly my wife."

Isabella stroked her fingers softly through his thick locks of hair as she memorized every detail of him in that moment, knowing she would remember it for the rest of her days.

"Yes," she said simply.

"Aye?" he asked as his lips quirked into a huge smile.

"Aye," she said, mirroring his smile.

"Yes," she repeated. "Yes, Edward James Godfrey Cullen MacDonald."

And he kissed her again, soundly and triumphantly.

"Ye have my heart and my soul Bella. Ye can have any name ye like as well."

Then as an afterthought, he added with a chuckle, "Ye can just have MacDonald if ye want though."

Isabella grinned.

"I want them all."

~O~

Their dinner was soon entirely forgotten as they lost themselves in a kiss. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, ensuring she was flush against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, holding on her waist, seemingly frustrated that he couldn't get even closer. He tore his lips aways from hers and began to nip and kiss down her neck, delighted with the small moan that elicited.

"Edward," she breathed, arching her chest into him.

He lifted his eyes up to hers and upon seeing the fire and certainty in her gaze, smiled. "Aye," he agreed simply. He slid his hand under her round arse and lifted her up off of the stool, holding her carefully as she buried her face in his neck and returned his ministrations.

Edward started to carry her into the bedroom. But then he stopped himself.

Isabella clung to him as he grabbed a stack of papers out of his messenger bag. She could see immediately they were the divoce papers.

"No use wasting perfect kindling," he said with a smirk. He carried her into the living room where he threw the stack of papers into the fireplace, planning to burn them on the next cold night.

He then carried her the rest of the way to the bedroom, an impressive feat given the fact that all of the blood had rushed to one part of his body and one part only it felt like.

Compared to their previous lovemaking encounters, they may have set a record in how quickly they undressed. It was not frantic, but it was swift, as if both of them could not wait a second longer to feel the warmth of skin on skin.

Edward laid his wife down on the bed, getting a clear look at the creamy white breasts that contrast her long dark hair. Her chest heaved while he gazed at them, not there is no shyness, no uncertainty.

"Beautiful," he murmured. He molded one breast in each hand, his thumbs brushing against the bright pink, erect nipples.

The movement made Isabella whimper and lip her hips up. She threaded her hands through his hair and he lowered his face down to her skin, smiling against the softness. He then eagerly sucked on one breast, swirling his tongue around her sweet, hardened nipple while she moaned unashamedly.

"Edward," she hummed, continuing to writhe under him as he switched his attention to her other breast.

When his hand moved downward, she once again started attacking his neck, sucking gently on his pulse point. He ran the tips of his fingers down her thighs and she whimpered. The whimper turned into a moan when his fingers ghosted purposely against the light fuzz between her legs.

He rubbed and teased her wet clit with two fingers before he sank them in deep. She cried out, her chest arching back into him. Isabella, ever the multi-tasker, was not content to simply enjoy the sensation and reached down blindly before grabbing his aching member into her hand, the warm pressure nearly causing him to see stars.

They moaned each other's names, each of them growing more frantic by the moment.

"Edward, we have the rest of our lives to take it slow," she breathed.

Right.

Brilliant, she was. Absolutely brilliant.

The next thing he knew, he was consumed in heat and the most delicious tightness, squeezing him from every angle.

"Fuck," he growled, hearing Isabella's lovely cries fill the space.

They met each other's gaze then, communicating so much through their eyes.

Home.

Isabella wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in close while he began to thrust as deep as possible. One of his hands was braced against the headboard while the other remained where they were joined, remembering her early love making guidance.

Their hips met and retreated in a growing frenzy of movement, the sounds of their lovemaking carrying in the air and mixing her cries and his groans. Their mouths crashed together again, no longer soft, sweet kisses but now urgent, passionate demands.

It wasn't long before her cries grew louder. "Edward, I- I'm-"

"I'll catch ye, mo chroi," he growled, increasing his movements as he felt her contract around him, only spurring him on.

She came with a loud cry, her heels digging into his arse and her fingernails clutching his back so tightly they would surely leave marks. A few more hard thrusts and Edward roared out her name, clutching her to him as they shook.

Afterward, they laid on the bed, still on top of the covers, a mess of warm limbs. Each of them made no effort to slow their harsh breathing.

"Bloody perfect," he whispered, twirling a lock of her hair between his fingers.

She smiled into his shoulder, delirious from the feeling of wholeness.

And then a thought seized him.

"Wallaper!" he cursed to himself.

"What?"

"I forgot a frenchie," he exclaimed, his body tensing.

"Edward, I've been in Scotland for less than 24 hours," she reminded him impatiently, "What are the words you are saying?"

He ran his hand through his hair anxiously. "I forgot a condom," he explained.

"A frenchie?" she asked. "Really? That's the word?"

"Bella, now is no the time for a critique of Scots."

Isabella let out a loud laugh, her body remaining relaxed. "I have an IUD now, it's okay," she soothed.

Edward's body lost the tension in it. It was not so long ago that they were in the hospital for a pregnancy gone wrong.

"And there's been no one," she added, more somber. "Just so you know. I want to be honest with you."

He exhaled, wrapping his arms around her frame and pulling her closer. "It'd be okay if there was," he assured her softly. He had been the one to tell her to leave, after all. "But there's been no one for me either." And when her body lost any last strand of tension, he smiled into her hair.

They stayed snuggled up together for some time before Isabella's stomach emitted a long and loud grumble which caused Edward to laugh.

"Right, that's my cue," he said, moving to untangle himself from her and get out of the bed. When she tried to follow him he said, "Stay right there, mo chroi. I'll just be a moment."

Isabella nodded, her lips quirking into a smile as she settled against the pillows. She was a grown woman, only a couple months shy of 30. She had no problem with her naked body.

Edward returned a few minutes later with a tray of food, still entirely nude. She was pleased he settled on a picnic option. There were apple slices, cured meat, crackers, and slices of cheese all hastily piled onto the plate. And there was also a tumbler of whisky and two glasses that he carefully placed on the bed. She noticed that one of the glasses had a small velvet box in it.

"This one is yers," he murmured, handing her the glass.

Isabella carefully took the glass and pulled the small box out. Her heart pounded in her chest as she lifted the lid up.

It was a gold diamond ring. It was a thicker band with a dip to it, clearly older in style. It had one diamond in the center with two small diamonds on each side. She knew without him saying that it had to have been his mother's and he could see the knowledge in her gaze as she looked at him with glossy eyes.

"Ma was the smartest woman I knew until I met ye," he said, taking her hands in his own. "She would have loved ye and wanted ye to have it."

Unable to say anything, Isabella swallowed and nodded.

With a sweet smile, Edward took the ring out of the box and slid it on her finger. When it was settled, he lifted his hand up and kissed it gently.

This was all more than she had dared to hope, allowed herself to believe possible when she boarded the plane to return to Scotland. She felt so full of hope and love that she could burst.

She felt alive.

She felt whole.

This was the life she wanted.

This sweet life with a good man and his quirky, hard-working family, in a small, creaky house on a quiet, beautiful island.

"I love ye, Bella," he declared earnestly, squeezing her hand. "I promise to cherish ye and no let a day go by where ye do no ken that ye are so precious to me."

She kissed him, blinking back tears as she did so.

"You, Edward MacDonald, are better than my wildest dreams," she whispered against his lips. "I will love you back with everything that I have."

Edward blinked, feeling his joy threaten to leak from his eyes.

"Will ye share a dram with me then?" he asked.

Isabella looked down at the whisky and examined it closely.

It was the whisky his father had set aside for his children to share with their partners on their wedding night. The whisky they had not quite finished the first time.

"Yes," she said simply. "Today and every day."

Afterall, she was looking forward to a lifetime of being the whisky distiller's wife.

the end.

all of my love to all of you who have read this sweet story. the time you took to share your reviews means the world to me. thank you for your patience with me and these two.

i have been on this site so long now, i have learned to never say never when it comes to future stories. after a long stretch of not writing, i am beginning to think that being creative is one of the best things one can do for their overall wellbeing. perhaps one of the dribbles i am currently engaging with will someday make it onto this site.

until then - do good, be good.