As before, it was over before it began.
Elizabet put her hands over her eyes to shut out the terror of it. But this time, there was no mistaking the death blow. Tomas toppled to the ground, tangled in the reins. His riderless horse reared, screaming in terror, coming to its knees.
With sword still in hand, Broc wheeled his mount about, slowing as he passed Tomas’s limp body. He cast it a single glance and then resheathed his sword as his gaze returned to Elizabet.
Her heart soared.
She dismounted to wait for him, eager to hold him, eager to tell him that she loved him, adored him, wanted to bear his children.
“I’m sorry!” she said as he neared. He leaped from his horse before it came to a halt, taking her breath away as he took her into his arms.
His face and tunic were spattered with blood, but she didn’t care. His was the most beautiful face she had ever seen, and she wanted never to be without him again. She caressed his face, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss his mouth.
“I love you, too!” she declared. “Oh, God... can you ever forgive me?” she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.
He held her tightly, his heart beating fiercely against her breasts. “Only if ye promise never again to leave me!”
“Never!” she swore. “Never, my love!”
He kissed her then so passionately that it stole her breath away.
She closed her eyes and held his face in her hands, reveling in the strength of his arms.
“My beautiful lion,” she declared, lacing her hands through his golden hair. She sighed contentedly and smiled, her heart bursting with joy. “I cannot believe you came all this way to save me!”
“Nay, lass,” he countered with a crooked smile, “I came only to tell you that ye forgot your bluidy dog.”
Harpy!
Elizabet gasped in shock. “Oh, my God!” Her hand flew to her mouth. She had been so distraught, she hadn’t even remembered her mother’spoor hound. “Where is she?” she demanded at once.
He winked at her. “Just where you left her—chewing up Montgomerie’s boots.”
Elizabet stifled her laughter.
He lifted her up suddenly, gave her a kiss upon the forehead then walked over to her horse, setting her unceremoniously atop it. “Let’s go home, wife,” he said, sounding suddenly irascible.
“Aye, husband,” she agreed, smiling crookedly down at him as she bent to retrieve the reins. “Let’s go home.”
EPILOGUE
The sound of a dog’s bark outside caught Elizabet’s attention. She knew that bark. It brought a smile to her lips. Heavy with child, she rose awkwardly to her feet. “Constance,” she said, “watch the baby for me, dearling.”
She didn’t have to ask twice.
Thirteen-year-old Constance was enamored with the children, doting on them. Broc’s little cousin was blossoming into a lovely young woman with hair as golden as her husband’s and eyes the same shade of blue as her brother Cameron’s.
“Oh, yea!” Constance exclaimed, and she leapt off the bed where two-year-old Maggie lay, babbling happily at the ceiling. She had been tickling the child’s feet.
Elizabet couldn’t help but laugh at Constance’s enthusiasm.
“Halloo, wee little Griffin!” Constance cooed at the baby. “Halloo!” She approached the child, making faces, and three-year-old Griffin happily stamped his little feet in the tub of water. He giggled when she pulled up her dress and stepped into the tub along with him.
Elizabet laughed and glanced heavenward, marveling at the course her life had taken.
Who would have thought that after growing upalone, without siblings, without even parents to speak of, she would end with two dogs, three children of her own, another on the way and an adopted daughter so sweet that she made their heart swell with joy.
“He so verra loves to be naked,” Constance observed, smiling down at her shameless little dark-haired son.
