"Did you mean it?" he asks, his voice rough with emotion. "That you choose me?"
I look up at him, at the face that once represented everything I hated and now embodies everything I've come to need. "I meant it," I whisper. "God help me, I've fallen in love with the man who conquered my kingdom."
The admission—finally spoken aloud—should terrify me. Instead, it brings a strange peace, as if naming this feeling has freed me from the burden of fighting it.
Lachlan's expression transforms, vulnerability breaking through his careful control. "Say it again," he demands, his hands framing my face. "The part about love."
"I love you," I repeat, the words gaining strength as I acknowledge their truth. "I don't know when it happened or how. I just know that the thought of being separated from you, of returning to the life I had before, is unbearable."
He kisses me then, a kiss unlike any we've shared before—not possessive or demanding but reverent, as if I've given him something infinitely precious.
"I never thought to hear those words from you," he says when we finally part, his forehead resting against mine. "I hoped, but I didn't dare believe."
"Do you..." I hesitate, suddenly unsure. "Do you feel the same?"
His laugh is soft, incredulous. "Fiona, I've loved you since the moment you stood before me in that conquered hall, defiant despite your fear. Everything since—the gifts, the protectiveness, the need to have you always at my side—it's all been love, though I didn't always recognize it as such."
The declaration washes over me like warm rain, seeping into places I didn't know were parched. I press my palm against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my hand.
"What happens now?" I ask, aware that we stand at a threshold neither of us expected to reach.
"Now we face whatever comes together," he says simply. "As king and queen. As husband and wife." His hand covers mine where it rests over his heart. "As two people who found love in the most unlikely of places."
I stretch up to kiss him again, sealing our new understanding with a wordless promise. The girl who prayed for her conqueror's death has vanished, replaced by a woman who would fight to protect him with the same ferocity he has always shown in protecting her.
I am still Fiona MacLeod, daughter of kings, raised to lead and serve my people. But I am also Fiona Drummond, queen to a warrior king who has claimed not just my kingdom but my heart. The two identities no longer war within me—they have merged into something new, something stronger.
And for the first time since Lachlan stormed into my life, I am not afraid of what comes next.
ten
. . .
Lachlan
"I love you."Three words I never expected to hear from her lips. Three words that have turned the warrior king into something else entirely—a man humbled by a gift he never thought to receive. For days after Fiona's confession, I find myself watching her with wonder, unable to believe that the woman I took by force now gives herself to me willingly, completely. The fierce princess who once glared at me with hatred now looks at me with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. I've conquered seven kingdoms, but none of those victories compares to winning her heart. And now, as we prepare to face our enemies, I realize I would surrender all those kingdoms, all that power, all that glory, if it meant keeping her safe at my side. This is what love does—it transforms conquest into sacrifice, possession into partnership. It makes the conqueror willing to be conquered in turn.
"You're staring again," Fiona observes, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she adjusts the crown nestled amongher golden curls. She stands before the polished metal mirror in our chambers, preparing for the audience with the border lords. The gown she wears, deep blue embroidered with silver, emphasizes both her royal lineage and her new position as my queen.
"I can't help it." I move to stand behind her, my hands settling on her waist, my chin resting on top of her head. "You're painfully beautiful."
"Painfully?" She raises an eyebrow, meeting my gaze in the reflection.
"It hurts to look at you," I admit, the honesty still uncomfortable but increasingly natural between us. "Like staring at the sun."
A blush stains her cheeks, but she doesn't look away. "Who would have thought the mighty Lachlan Drummond could be so poetic?"
"Only for you." I press a kiss to the top of her head, careful not to disturb her crown. "Are you nervous about today?"
She's quiet for a moment, considering the question with characteristic thoughtfulness. "Not nervous," she finally says. "Resolved. These men are using my name, my father's claim, to justify violence against people I'm sworn to protect. That cannot stand."
The strength in her voice, the conviction, fills me with pride. This is no frightened girl playing at queenship, but a true ruler coming into her power.
"They won't expect you to stand with me so firmly," I tell her. "They still believe you're my captive, forced to my bed and my throne."
"Then they'll learn the truth." She turns in my arms, looking up at me directly rather than through the reflection. "That I choose to stand beside you. That we are stronger together than apart."
I bend to capture her lips, unable to resist the fire in her eyes, the determination in her voice. What begins as a gentle kiss quickly deepens, her arms winding around my neck, my hands splaying across her back to pull her closer.
