He gazed up in wonder at his wife, her lithe body gleaming in the pastel moonlight. My wife! “You’re a goddess,” he said hoarsely.

She slipped the robe from her shoulders and tossed her long, ebony hair. “Which one?” she taunted.

“Parvati, the goddess of love and feminine energy.”

“Clever boy.” She grinned down hungrily.

Thank you, internet, I will never curse you again, Callum promised.

“Did you know she bestows a woman’s skill and power to the whole universe?” Savi murmured as she sank to her knees.

Callum whimpered helplessly.

“And prowess.” Her eyes flashed wickedly.

In the sky above Savi’s head, a shooting star scorched a silent, scintillating tail across the heavens. Callum made a wish.

It was granted.

—

Callum woke to find strong morning sunlight filtering through the cabin bedroom’s wooden shutters. The air-conditioning was humming softly, but the temperature in the bedroom was already warmer than midsummer in Scotland. He turned his head to see Savi lying naked on the mattress beside him.

“Morning, husband,” she said drowsily.

He gently brushed thick strands of tangled black hair from her face. All he could do was smile at how lovely she was.

“What?” she asked.

“I thought I’d had the best dream of my life,” he said softly. “Turns out it’s actually a memory.”

“Oh, Cal!” She reached for him, and they began kissing ardently.

“I’m a married man,” he said, and there was no way to keep the incredulity out of his voice. “I can’t believe you said yes!”

“I can’t believe you asked!”

“I was always going to ask.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah. From the moment I saw you. But I knew I’d have to wait. You know—actually say hello first, maybe find out your name.”

“Silly man.”

“I thought I’d blown it yesterday.”

She stroked his cheek. “You didn’t.”

“We’re married!” Callum started laughing.

“Yes. Now we just have to work out how to tell everyone.”

“Oh. Crap. Yeah.” He frowned; just the thought of it was a real passion killer.

Savi gave him an interested look. “You’re not worried about that, are you?”

“No. No, it’s fine.”

“You’re scared of telling my father,” she decided shrewdly.

“Am not.”

“You are! Fine husband you make; you’re supposed to fight demons and dragons for me.”

“I’m not scared of your father. Your mother, on the other hand…”

“Mummy likes you.”

“She’s very good at hiding it.”

“You know what they say: If you want to know what the girl’s going to grow into, look at the mother.”

Callum had a brief, if frightening, memory flash of his own father, standing in Pittodrie Stadium, cheering on The Dons, a beer can in each hand. “I would be delighted if you turned out like your mother.”