Aonghus held his gaze for a long beat before turning to Flora. “If you change your mind—”
“She won’t,” Lachlan said with cool finality.
Aonghus looked as though he wanted to say more. Instead, he nodded to his men and they moved to the clearing, where they gathered the horses of the fallen men and rode away.
But Lachlan knew they would be back—for their dead, and for the battle that was brewing between him and Hector.
Flora was in his arms before the others had faded from view. It was as if a dam had broken free and the deluge of emotion poured from her body, racking her shoulders with violent sobs. Silently, she sought comfort from him, and he gave it to her. He’d never seen her cry before, and it left him feeling strangely helpless.
Murdoch had moved away to give them privacy and see to the dead. Allan, he knew, would return soon with reinforcements, but instead they would carry home their dead. Though it was the plight of a warrior, the pain of losing men never lessened. He took each loss personally. These men would be honored for their valor and sacrifice.
Flora emitted another sob. She didn’t seem to mind that his sleeve was staining her gown, though he couldn’t release her even if he wanted to. Just holding her was a balm to his soul. The heat of battle still roared through his blood, but with such softness pressed against his body, calm descended over him.
He’d never realized before what had been missing. His life up to this point had been one battle after another. Never had there been someone special to hold on to. Someone to care for. Someone to…love.
I love her.
Of course. It was what he’d known for some time but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. Perhaps he’d realized how much it would hurt not to have his feelings returned. But she wanted to stay with him. He’d heard it for himself, but he still couldn’t believe what she’d said.
He’d thought himself immune to such emotion—he was wrong. From the first, she’d been different. She was the only woman who’d ever been able to get under his skin. The only woman ever to make him think of his own needs—needs that had nothing to do with his duty to his clan.
He loved her spirit and the streak of wildness in the proper lady that left him wondering what she’d do next. He loved her strength and confidence, as well as the vulnerability she sought to hide. He loved the way she made him feel.
He tipped her chin and looked into her watery eyes, strikingly blue from her tears. “What’s this, lass?” he asked, wiping her tears with his thumb and noticing the scratch on her cheek. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s just that…” She sniffled and hiccupped. “I thought you were dead. When I saw the sword hit your head…” She shivered, and a wave of fresh tears sprang from her eyes.
“And the thought of my death distresses you?”
She thumped him hard on the chest—a surprisingly hard blow for such a wee lass. “Of course it did, you foolish man. How could you think it would not?”
“Maybe it has something to do with your refusal of my offer of marriage?”
She bit her lip. “Oh yes, about that. I didn’t realize then…”
He stilled, seeing in her face his heart’s desire. What he wanted with a soul-wrenching intensity that squeezed like a vise around his heart. “Realize what?” he asked carefully.
She slipped her arms around his neck and looked up at him with such depth of emotion in her face, it took his breath away. Her eyes seemed to dominate her tiny face, and her cheeks were flushed pink as she peered up at him hesitantly.
“Realize that I love you.”
A wave of incredible happiness crashed over him. His heart seemed to swell in his chest. It seemed impossible that this beautiful, amazing woman could love him. That a woman who’d known such privilege and had the most powerful men in Scotland at her feet had chosen to give her heart to him was humbling. It was hard to find the words, but he knew what his response had to be, it was what was in his heart. He lifted her chin and looked deeply into luminous blue eyes. “And I love you, you stubborn lass.”
She looked stunned. “You do? But why did you not tell me before?”
His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “As this is a unique experience for me, I didn’t realize that this overwhelming irrationality I was feeling for you was love.”
She grinned. “Overwhelming irrationality? I suppose that is a good way of putting it. I didn’t realize it, either—until I thought I might lose you.”
He pulled her tighter, ignoring the stab of pain in his arm. “Never.”
She pressed her cheek against his chest and sighed. “Just try to get rid of me now. I have a reputation for being a touch headstrong, you know.”
He tensed suddenly, not daring to hope. “Does this mean you will agree to marry me?”
She raised her head and nodded, a wide smile breaking through the sparkly remnants of her tears. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Lachlan Maclean.”
Relief, happiness, and disbelief intersected in a moment of pure happiness. More moved by the moment than he could believe, he did not trust himself to speak. Instead, his mouth found hers in a long, hungry kiss. A kiss that spoke the truth of his heart far more eloquently than words ever could.
