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It was difficult to believe the sincerity of the letter given the rotten nature of their father and brother, but Jeannette had written of her own accord. If she were as angry and spite-filled as Jean Claude, wouldn’t she have ignored Emeline? Perhaps, even conspired with their brother?

The afternoon had faded into evening and, cracking an eye open, she glanced at the bedside clock. She’d been hauled bodily away from Liam almost five hours ago.

Surely if everything were all right, he would’ve returned by now. So would have the others.

Fighting tears, she sat up and returned all of the items to their respective boxes.

She’d ask Liam to lock them in his vault. Except the letters. She’d read them later. When she’d recovered from the shock she’d sustained this day. A body could only take so many surprises in a day.

“Emeline!”

Her breath caught, and she went perfectly still.

Liam. Praise God.

“Emeline,” Liam boomed again. “Where are ye, lass?”

She jumped from the bed and wrenched open her chamber door. “Liam’s callin’ me,” she said unnecessarily to Camden.

With what surely was approval glinting in his eyes, he wordlessly stepped aside.

Not caring who knew her carefully-guarded secret, she tore down the corridor, gown hiked to her knees. At the landing, she pulled up short. Her hand gripping the balustrade, she was suddenly unsure.

Mayhap he only wanted to ensure she was safe.

Except for the Kennedys, his other friends crowded the entry, speaking in low tones.

Yes, he’d kissed her, caressed her, undressed her with his smoldering gray eyes. But he’d never voiced a single syllable that she meant anything to him.

Lady Penderhaven rushed into the entry, immediately followed by Skye and Kendra. She gave her son a fierce hug. “Dinna ye ever worry me like that again, Liam Kirk Fletcher MacKay. I’ve nae doubt I have several more gray hairs after today.”

“The delay was unavoidable,” he said soothingly, before kissing her cheek.

She stepped back, eyeing him from head to toe and scrunched her aristocratic nose. “Really, Liam, dear. Shouldna ye do somethin’ about yer appearance before ye see Emeline? Ye’ll frighten her half to death,” his mother admonished.

Dirt and blood smeared his face and coat, which hung open, one sleeve ripped almost completely off at the shoulder. His bare knee poked from a hole in his breeches and, even from where she hovered above them, she couldn’t miss the bruises and cuts on his knuckles.

He’d never looked more wonderful.

As if sensing Emeline’s presence, he glanced up, seeing her poised to flee on the landing. The distance between them vanished, his eyes entreating her and sparking with emotion.

“Emeline,” he whispered, raw and yearning. He extended his left arm wide, vulnerable and inviting and wholly irresistible.

With a strangled joy-filled cry, she flew down the stairs into his warm, perfect embrace. He grunted as she plowed into him before bracing his arm behind her shoulders and pressing her tight to his chest. Nothing had ever felt so absolutely perfectly right. As if she’d finally come home to rest.

In full view of his mother, sister, cousin and friends, he lowered his mouth to hers. “Mo chroí.”

She closed her eyes, twined her arms around his neck, stood on her toes, and kissed him with everything in her heart. I love ye. I love ye. I love ye.

“I suppose this means we’ve a weddin’ to plan,” Kendra whispered, sotto voce.

“Jealous?” Broden taunted.

“Do be quiet, ye oaf. Yer interruptin’ a romantic moment,” Kendra admonished.

Blushing profusely, Emeline settled back on her heels.

“Indeed,” came Lady Penderhaven’s amused voice. Her breath caught, and she gasped, “Liam?” Panic made her voice strident. “Are ye bleedin’?”

Alarm, icy and shrill, speared Emeline. “Liam?” She retreated a pace, glancing at her blood-dampened gown then spearing a frantic glance to his side. She pulled the coat away, and gasped. “Och, God. There’s so much blood.”

“’Tis…no…thin’, jo,” he whispered brokenly before his eyes rolled back in his head, and his knees buckled.