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His eyelids lowered, for he savored the thought of how else he might elicit that reaction. That would have to wait.

“I’ve given your father an . . . expanded dowry.”

The women exchanged glances, so he hurried to finish.

“On the way back from Kenshire, I stopped at Lyndwood.”

“You saw my father?” Gillian asked. “Alone?”

“Saw him, spoke to him. Offered him the same amount of coin Covington would have given him had he married—well, either one of you.”

Awareness washed over both of their faces at once.

“But you’d already paid a dowry. Did he take it?”

“Do you have such coin?”

“What will happen to Lyndwood?”

The ladies asked their questions so quickly he didn’t know who to respond to first.

“Highgate End is a wealthy property, but the fur trade isn’t quite that lucrative. Covington offered a substantial sum, one that would indeed have allowed your father to retain Lyndwood for generations to come.”

“Then how—”

“Highgate End,” he began. “Clan Kerr. Your friend Sara.”

Before Gillian could panic, he went to her and grasped her hands, intertwining her fingers with his own. “It is as I told you. Here in Scotland, allies do what is needed to protect their own and those who’ve pledged loyalty to them. Besides, if your father lost Lyndwood, its next lord may have proven unsympathetic to our cause.”

He studied her face. Was she happy? Surprised?

“I know you did not wish to tell Sara, but after all that’s happened, with the Scots pledging their support . . . It was not a very large sum, and your friend was happy to help. Indeed . . .” He winked. “. . . I do believe she is wroth with you for not explaining the situation in the first place.”

“But I didn’t want to burden her,” Gillian protested.

“Friends . . . allies . . . husbands and wives . . . they do not burden each other with their troubles. A burden is unwanted, and I can assure you, all involved very much wanted to help.”

Graeme nearly fell into his wife when Allie stood and hugged him from the side.

“Graeme, thank you!” She squeezed even harder, her tears wetting his tunic.

He put his arm around her, still holding his wife’s hand. Though Gillian didn’t say a word, her smile allowed Graeme to breathe normally again. When a tear fell down her cheek, he released her hand to wipe it away. By then Allie had disengaged herself.

Standing in that small, confined room, crowded with two women he’d not known just a short time ago, Graeme silently thanked every saint he could think of for such blessings. For no matter what battles may lie ahead, he’d face them with this magnificent English queen by his side.

Epilogue

Gillian paced the parapet, watching . . . waiting . . . for any sign of her husband. Though he had attempted to convince her otherwise, she knew this Day of Truce would be dangerous. Much had been at stake, but her husband had gone to great pains to ensure that peace had a chance. If only they could find a way to handle those who would benefit from disorder. Who would take advantage of the situation for their own gain.

Like Father.

She shrugged off the traitorous thought, telling herself he’d done what he needed to do. Now, at least, he was back on the right side. For better or worse, she loved her parents, and it was a relief they no longer had to worry about losing Lyndwood. Her father’s missive, which had arrived just the day before, had been brief, but he’d never been an effusive sort. He’d wished Gillian well, and her husband too, pleading that she and Allie visit soon.

It was a start.

She stared at the horizon, as if not doing so would delay his arrival. The beauty of this land still humbled her. She spun toward the keep and peered at the spot where their chamber was located. Smiling, she remembered the last night before his departure. Graeme had not been jesting when he’d told her the bedchamber was not a place for shyness. Indeed, she’d allowed her curiosity free rein, and that night—

When a pair of arms slipped around her waist from the back, she remembered the last time he’d done that very same thing.