"I love you," I tell her, the words still new enough to taste sweet on my tongue. "Beyond reason, beyond duty, beyond anything I've ever known."
"And I love you," she returns, leaning down to press her lips gently against mine. "My conqueror. My king. My heart."
As I hold her close, as my hand rests protectively over the new life growing within her, I think of the journey that brought us here. From enemies to reluctant allies to passionate lovers totrue partners. From a marriage forced by conquest to a union forged in genuine love.
We will face more challenges, no doubt. More threats to our kingdom, more obstacles to overcome. But we will face them together, stronger for having found each other in the most unlikely of circumstances.
I, Lachlan Drummond, came to these shores as a conqueror seeking to claim a kingdom. I leave this battle as a king who has found something far more precious—a queen who rules not just at my side, but in my heart.
And that, I now know, is the greatest conquest of all.
epilogue
. . .
Three years later
Fiona
I stand in the doorway,watching my husband—my warrior king—down on his knees in the royal nursery, a toy wooden sword in his massive hand as he allows our three-year-old daughter to "defeat" him in battle. My chest fills with that familiar ache, the one I've come to recognize as happiness so intense it hurts. Three years ago, I would have sworn on my life that I'd never belong to this man. Now I can't imagine belonging anywhere else.
"I surrender, Princess Ailsa!" Lachlan groans dramatically, collapsing onto his back on the plush carpet, his enormous frame dwarfing the toys scattered around them. "Your sword skills have bested me again.”
Our daughter, with my blonde hair and Lachlan's piercing blue eyes, jumps onto his chest with a squeal of victory. "I win again, Papa!"
"You always win," he murmurs, catching her tiny body and tossing her gently into the air. "Just like your mother."
I bite my lip, trying to contain the smile that threatens to split my face. The Kingdom of Drummond has never seen their fearsome warrior king like this—brought to his knees by a toddler wielding a wooden sword. But I've grown accustomed to the two sides of my husband: the ruthless ruler who commands armies with a single look, and the devoted father who braids our daughter's hair every morning with large, callused fingers that somehow manage perfect gentleness.
"Mama!" Ailsa spots me and scrambles off Lachlan, racing toward me on unsteady legs. I scoop her up, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair as she wraps her little arms around my neck.
"Were you defeating Papa again?" I ask, pressing my lips to her forehead.
"He's not very good at fighting," she whispers loudly, as if sharing a great secret.
Lachlan rises to his full height, crossing the nursery in three long strides. Even after three years, his presence still makes my pulse quicken—a physical reaction I've long stopped fighting. "I let her win," he whispers in my ear, his beard tickling my neck. "Just like I let you win sometimes."
I roll my eyes, though we both know it's for show. "You've never let me win anything in your life, Lachlan Drummond."
His eyes darken, and his hand finds the small of my back. "Haven't I?" The weight of his words carries memories of our beginning—when I fought him with every fiber of my being, only to discover surrender could be its own kind of victory.
The nursemaid appears, right on schedule. "Time for Princess Ailsa's bath before supper, Your Majesties."
Lachlan produces a small wooden horse from behind his back—yet another gift for our already spoiled daughter. "I had this made for you, little warrior."
Ailsa's eyes widen with delight as she grabs the intricately carved toy. "Thank you, Papa!" She places a wet kiss on his cheek before allowing the nursemaid to take her.
"You're going to run out of craftsmen at this rate," I murmur as we watch them go. "That's the third new toy this week."
"Can I help it if I want my daughter to have everything?" His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against him. "Both my princesses deserve the world."
"She already has an entire kingdom," I remind him, though I can't muster any real admonishment. The truth is, I love watching him with her—the way his entire being softens around her, how he seems to treasure every moment.
Once Ailsa is out of sight, his demeanor shifts subtly. His hand tightens on my hip, and he steers me toward our chambers with that possessive touch I've come to crave. "And now," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that register that still makes my knees weak, "I get some time with my queen."
The door to our chambers barely closes before his mouth finds mine, hungry and demanding. Three years have done nothing to dampen the fire between us—if anything, it burns hotter now, tempered by a deeper knowledge of each other's bodies and hearts.
"I've been waiting all day to get you alone," he growls against my throat, his hands already working at the laces of my gown.
