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  “Nothing,” he said too quickly, but then reconsidered when she gave him an admonishing lift of her brow. “Let’s just say he’s enjoying the fact that I’ve softened my tone on marriage.”

  “You have?”

  “Aye … well … damn it, Bella, I want you to marry me. I know I don’t have anything to offer you. That you’d be a fool to get wrapped up with the likes of me, but—”

  “If this is a proposal, you might want to stop telling me all the reasons I shouldn’t marry you.”

  He scowled—a little petulantly for a man named after a deadly snake, but she’d remind him of that later. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into.”

  She laughed. “I know exactly what I’d be getting into. But I think you left out the most important part.” He seemed confused, so she gave him a little help. “The point where you declare your undying love for me.”

  “I thought that was obvious.”

  “It is. But as this is a marriage proposal, I think I should like to hear it again.”

  He tilted her chin and looked deep into her eyes. “I love you, Bella. I will love you not until my dying day, but from the heights of heaven or the depths of hell until my soul ceases to be.”

  He was getting quite good at this. She put her hand on the familiar stubbled cheek. God, she loved him. “I’d be honored to be your wife.”

  He grinned, the sweetest, happiest grin she’d ever seen on his face. He drew her into his arms and kissed her. Telling her with the soft strokes of his tongue and mouth exactly how deeply he loved her.

  When he finally broke the kiss, she was breathing hard and wishing they weren’t riding on a horse in the middle of the night through the forest surrounded by ten very interested, smirking Highlanders.

  Her thoughts must have been plain to see. He chuckled, whispering, “Later.”

  The sensual promise in that one word sent shivers of anticipation shooting through her veins. She nodded and sagged back against him.

  “She’ll be safe, Bella. As safe as anyone can be in this damned war.”

  How well he knew her. He’d guessed the direction of her thoughts. “She seemed quite certain about her uncle and Sir Hugh’s fondness for her.”

  Lachlan was quiet. A little too quiet.

  “What did you do?”

  He shrugged. “I simply made sure Sir Hugh didn’t forget it.”

  Her eyes flew to his. “You snuck into his chamber?”

  “I had a few extra minutes.”

  She shook her head. “And how did you convince—” She stopped herself. “Forget it, I don’t want to know.”

  Lachlan grinned. “Let’s just say, I put the fear of God in him.”

  “Or the fear of the phantom Guard, you mean.”

  He laughed.

  “What the hell is that sound?” MacSorley said from behind them.

  “Sod off, Hawk,” Lachlan said fiercely.

  Bella grinned. “Your cousin really is amusing.”

  Lachlan groaned, along with the other men close enough to hear. “God, don’t let him hear you say that.”

  But it was too late. Hawk took the opportunity to regale her with just how amusing he could be—much to Lachlan’s annoyance. But after a while, he gave up trying to shut him up and even managed to get in a few digs of his own.

  Much later, when Tor MacLeod had called an end to the “chatter,” Bella sank back against him and closed her eyes.

  “I know you were hoping for a different ending,” Lachlan said quietly.

  This war had already exacted so much from her. But Bella refused to let it cost her her daughter. “It’s not the end, it’s only the beginning.”

  With Lachlan by her side, she would fight to the end.

  Epilogue

  December 1314, Benbecula, The Western Isles

  For six years she’d waited for this day, and now that it was finally here, Bella could barely contain herself.

  She waited anxiously by the window in the Great Hall of the magnificent tower house her husband had built for her in paradise—or their little corner of it, anyway. The small isle of Benbecula, straddled between North and South Uist, was remote, private, and as beautiful as the Garden of Eden, with its long stretches of sandy dune beaches, lush green grasses, and wide-open vistas of sparkling blue waters.

  In spite of the king’s anger at their unsanctioned mission all those years ago, Robert had kept his promise and awarded Lachlan the lands and coin he’d earned for his service. Whether it was Bella’s urging, Lachlan’s vow to serve the king until the end of the war, or his young sister Mary’s release from prison a few weeks after their return that was responsible for the king’s change of heart, she didn’t know.

  But the families of Lachlan’s clansmen who’d died fighting for him had their security, and Lachlan had the quiet, peaceful home he’d worked so hard for. Especially now that he’d returned for good. The elite warrior had fought his last battle in June. The war was over. A war that had demanded so much of them all. But they’d done their part and survived.

  Yet as full as her heart had been these past years, there had always been an empty corner. Today it would be filled.

  She gazed out the window, scanning the crystal-clear horizon, her hands twisting anxiously in her skirts.

  She glanced over her shoulder, her heart catching as it always did every time she looked at him. Lachlan was even more handsome now than the first time she’d seen him. The fierce brigand had been transformed. He was just as physically imposing, but the cruel lines around his mouth had softened. Smiles, once infrequent, now came easily. Their happiness had been hard won, but it had been won.

  “Are you sure it will be today?” she asked.

  One of those easy smiles curved his mouth. “Aye, just as I was sure the last five times you asked me. Don’t worry, Bel. She’ll be here. Hawk said by around midday.”

  He stood from his chair beside the fire and came up behind her, wrapping his big arms around her waist and nuzzling her neck. She squirmed, giggling like a girl and not a woman of six-and-thirty. “That tickles.” She turned around and playfully tugged the square of stubble below his lip. “You and your cousin come up with the strangest ideas.”

  This one—a contest of sorts—was for the most unique beard. Bella had to admit, she looked forward to seeing what they came up with. Lachlan’s most recent was a small square patch just below his lip. Somehow, rather than look silly, it only seemed to make him even more wickedly handsome.

  He arched a brow. “I thought you liked it.”

  She blushed at the memory of exactly when she’d told him how much she liked it and gave him a playful shove. “You’re incorrigible.”

  He spun her back into his arms and kissed her. “And you’re beautiful.”

  She melted into him, sliding her hands around his neck, and savored the long, slow strokes of his tongue.

  “Ah hell, they’re doing it again.”

  Bella shot Lachlan a glare that only grew sharper when she saw how hard he was fighting not to laugh. “I thought you were going to try to watch your language.”

  He gave her a boyish shrug. “I am—trying.”

  Bella turned, putting her hands on her hips to admonish the five-year-old interloper, who not only looked but sounded exactly like his father. “Erik, what did we talk about?”

  The dark-haired, green-eyed charmer graced her with a dazzling smile. “My, you look beautiful today, Mother.”

  Oh, God help her!

  Bella shot Lachlan another glare when she heard him laugh.

  “Don’t look at me,” he said. “You’re the one that wanted to name him after Hawk.”

  He might look and sound like his father, but Erik MacRuairi was as charming, roguish, and irresistible as his namesake. It was impossible to stay angry with him. He had her wrapped around the hilt of one of his tiny wooden swords. He insisted on two. Just like his father’s, each was engraved with the words “usque ad finem.” To the