Then Lord Ainsley gave a strangled scream, and the broken sword fell from his nerveless hand. Dominic threw his head to one side, avoiding being skewered only by a hairs' breadth.
Not even that, in fact. He felt a hot line of pain lance itself down his left cheekbone, and the broken sword clattered down beside his face.
Then the pressure on his throat and the weight on his chest was gone, and Lord Ainsley was staggering across the floor in a half-crouch.
Instinct took over, and Dominic found himself on his feet before he'd even managed to fill his lungs with air.
He saw the hat pin at once, protruding from Lord Ainsley's back. It had been driven right into the center point between his shoulder blades and must have gone in by several inches.
Paisley was standing there, her face bone-white, her hands clenched.
"I said I wouldn't let you hurt him," she hissed, teeth clenched.
Lord Ainsley was not listening. He was howling, making jerky, spasmodic efforts to reach the hat pin in his back.
Dominic picked up his sword, the blade scraping across the wooden floorboards. Lord Ainsley heard the noise and spun around to face him. He only made it halfway before the blade swept through the air, neatly severing his head from his body, and then it was over.
Over.
There was a moment or two of silence in the cabin, both of them staring down at Lord Ainsley's motionless body.
"Paisley?" Dominic broke the silence first, his voice sounding hoarse and exhausted. "Are ye hurt?"
She shook her head, not able to tear her eyes away from the body. A pool of blood was growing about it, slickly black in the dark.
"Daenae look at him," Dominic sat at once, moving between her and the corpse. He reached out, arm suddenly shaky with exhaustion, and pulled her close to him.
Paisley seemed to sag against him, her face pressing into his shoulder, her arms sliding around his waist. Dominic let the sword fall to the floor once again, and put his arms around her, squeezing her tight.
"It's over," he said, voice muffled in her hair. "It's over, lassie. Ye are safe. He can never hurt ye again."
"I... I'm free," Paisley said, sounding almost comically surprised. "I can't believe it. I... I can go home, if I want. I can see my family. If they want to see me, that is."
Dominic bit his lip. His mouth tasted of copper, and he was fairly sure that he'd bitten his tongue or perhaps the inside of his cheek at least once during the fight.
"And... and is that what ye want?" he asked hesitantly. "To go home?"
Paisley pulled back, and he was surprised to see that her face was blotchy and tearstained.
"Doyouwant me to go home?"
He smiled wryly. "Daenae answer a question with a question, lass. Besides, if ye daenae know I'm in love with ye now, I daenae know what to say."
Paisley sucked in a breath. "You... you're in love with me."
"Aye, lass. Have been for longer than I care to say."
"Well, you aren't quite as obvious as you think you are."
He chuckled, brushing back a strand of hair from her hair.
"And ye, on the other hand, are an open book. So, what say ye, Paisley? Would ye fancy being me real betrothed? Would ye fancy being me wife?"
She pursed her lips, pretending to consider. "Hm. I could certainly see myself in that fancy Keep of yours. Although, in truth, I think I preferTheSinner. I never thought I'd be so happy in a pub of all places."
He grinned. "So, is that a yes?"
By way of answer, Paisley stood up on her tiptoes, pressing a quick, hard kiss to his lips.
