Laoghaire was on the verge of asking that very question, when the answer suddenly came to her: Other than the fraternal bond that he’d shared with his brother, Galen had never known love. Small wonder he believed he had no heart.
“That day when ye raided my brother’s castle, I, too, was convinced that ye lacked a heart, for ye were both cunning and merciless.” Admittedly nervous, Laoghaire’s hand trembled, causing her wine to slosh against the rim of the goblet. “But during the last eight weeks, I have come to realize that beneath that fierce exterior there lurks a passionate, tender, and deeply honorable man.”
While Galen made no reply, in the flickering candlelight she could see that he watched her with an avid eye.
“I did not marry ye because of yer title or because ye are brawny and handsome,” she continued, determined to finish what she’d begun. “I married ye because I was forced into it. But now . . . now I cannot conceive of living my life without ye. Should ye die before me, it would be as if the sun stopped shining in the sky above.”
Shock briefly flashed across Galen’s face. “Let us not speak of such things.”
“I have a reason for speaking of it.” Pausing a moment, Laoghaire fortified herself with a small sip of wine before she set the goblet on the table. Then, holding Galen’s gaze, she said to him, “I will remain with ye until I take my leave from this world. And from this day to that one, I will give ye all the love that is in my heart. ’Tis yours for the taking.”
Galen swallowed hard, attempting to relieve the fullness in his throat.
Though he was humbled by Laoghaire’s unexpected avowal, he was also deeply unnerved, not altogether certain what it was that she expected from him.
Somewhat guiltily, he turned in the other direction and strode over to the nearest window. He then flung open the shutters. Long moments passed as he peered at the night sky. Snowflakes fell from the heavens, covering the turrets and the bailey below in a downy, white mantle, creating a scene of exquisite beauty.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Laoghaire had begun to nervously twist her hands together.
I, too, am nervous . . . but of what?he wondered, unable to comprehend why either of them should feel thusly.
Perhaps the apprehension is because we are each confronting something for the very first time.
Whether Laoghaire knew it or now, she had revealed to him a hidden facet of his soul, one that had long been dormant. During the years he spent as a mercenary knight, he had always thought of life as something to be conquered, and that anyone who crossed his path must either give way or be vanquished.
And then a flame-haired Highland beauty refused to yield to me.
“Thank God that she did,” Galen murmured to himself.
His mind made up, Galen closed the shutters before he turned to face Laoghaire. As their eyes met, he felt a sudden warmth in his belly, one that soon settled behind his left breastbone.
Her gaze is like a balm, soothing the wild winds of my heart.
Knowing that he had no reason to be apprehensive, he strode toward Laoghaire, coming to a halt an arm’s length from where she stood. Although he’d always considered his wife a beautiful woman, tonight she appeared extraordinarily so. Attired in a gown of green taffeta—a gift from Queen Elizabeth—with her hair held in place with a golden circlet, she was a vision come to life.
After sucking in a deep, steadying breath, Galen said, “I also recall that day when we first set eyes upon one another at your brother’s castle. You charged across the battlements with a lance raised to your shoulder, and there were fiery locks of red hair flying wildly behind you.”
A worried look instantly materialized on Laoghaire’s face. “In other words, I did not make a very good first impression.”
Galen shook his head, refuting the notion. “I had never seen anything so magnificent in all of my life. It was a—” he paused, searching his mind for the perfect description—“acoup de foudre, as they say in French.”
“And what do they say in English?” Laoghaire asked, still wearing the anxious expression.
“It was as though I’d just been struck by a bolt of lightning. I remember feeling an electrified charge pulse through my body. Never had I wanted a woman so fiercely. And while my body instantly recognized you as being my other half, the perfect mate for me, my head and my heart stubbornly refused to acknowledge it.”
Upon hearing that, the fretful look finally vanished. “And what do yer head and heart say now?”
“That you are like a force of nature, and I am but a mere man,” he replied. “And when I take my last dying breath, my heart will be filled, as it is now, with love for you.”
Laoghaire stared at him, wide-eyed, perhaps uncertain what to make of his declaration. But as he continued to watch her expressive face, he saw the very instant that she realized the significance of his words. For that was the instant that her lips curved in a womanly smile, and he was able to see the depths of her love beam forth from her like a brilliant flame.
“Ye have made me glad-hearted!” Laoghaire exclaimed, as she closed the distance between them and threw herself into his arms.
Wanting,needing, to kiss her, Galen cupped Laoghaire’s face in both his hands and covered her mouth with his. Her lips parted, and he thrust his tongue inside, kissing her long and hard and thoroughly. To his delight, she tasted of love, of hunger, and passion waiting to be fulfilled.
When the kiss finally ended, Laoghaire smiled tenderly at him. Though he’d been excited by the kiss, it was that sweet smile that made him blink back a wetness from his eyes.
Now that he’d confessed his love for her, Galen felt lighter, the heaviness in his heart having lifted. He had thought that saying the words aloud would somehow weaken him. But to his amazement, he had never felt so invigorated.
