Though they weren’t standing in a grove of olive trees in the sun-drenched Tuscan countryside, but rather in a sodden stand of oaks, Rory spoke the words he should’ve said two years ago. “You look like someone.”
Juliet’s eyebrows drew together. “And who is that?” she asked, wary.
“Like the woman I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with.”
“Oh, Rory.”
“You, Miss Windermere, are beautiful and intelligent and talented and wickedly funny—and wicked other places, too. You listen to me. You take me seriously. Many don’t.”
“They should,” she said, near ferocious.
“See?There.”
“What?”
He chuckled and tucked his thumb beneath her chin, tipping her head back. “You have a bit of the she-wolf about you. That bodes well.”
“For what?”
“Life in the Scottish Highlands.”
He had yet more to say—and aquestion to ask.
“I love you, my bonny lass.” His hand slid around to cradle the nape of her neck, drawing her toward him. “Will you consent to be my bride and spend all the rest of your days with me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes watery with unshed tears.
“How do you feel about a small wedding?”
“Of two?”
“Three,” he said. “We’ll need the smithy.”
“Perfect,” she said, the Windermere daring streak running through her emerald eyes, and then she surrendered to his kiss.
Life would never be boring with his wild Windermere bride.
And Rory wouldn’t have it any other way.
Epilogue
One month later
Maiden of windand sky…
The line resonated through Juliet as she stepped onto the pile of rubble that had once been part of Dun Sgathaich, the castle that had been built upon the ruins of Dun Scaith—Scáthach’s mythical Castle of Shadows—and stared out across Loch Eishort toward the far-off hills of the Cuillins.
Thiswas the air Scáthach had breathed.
Warrior til the day ye died…
Juliet didn’t bother jotting the lines down. They were middling at best.
Movement below caught her eye. Rory was climbing up to the opposite set of ruins. Once, a drawbridge had connected the outcropping where the main castle sat with the mainland. Now, the drawbridge was deteriorated and gone, and the castle could only be accessed by scaling the thirty-foot cliff. As there wouldn’t have been a drawbridge in Scáthach’s time, Juliet imagined this was a closer experience to the Dun Scaith of yore, where young warriors had to prove their mettle by breaching the fortress.
Still, Juliet found herself calling out, “Be careful.”
Rory tossed her a smile over his shoulder and kept climbing.
