Epilogue

“’Tisn’t right!” Jenefer snapped, dropping the document onto her bedsheet-covered lap.

She was suddenly furious. With the king. And with her kin.

Her rage was palpable enough to wake Morgan, dozing beside her.

“What is it?” he murmured with a yarn, still drowsy from the honey mead they’d imbibed at their wedding feast. That and a night full of lovemaking. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you know about this?” she demanded, shoving the document under his nose and crossing her arms over her naked bosom.

Rising up on his elbows, he squinted at the parchment. But with the candle on her side of the bed, he couldn’t make out the words.

“I can’t… What does it say?” he asked.

She hesitated. Gazing at his adorable mussed hair, his half-lidded eyes, and the concern etched between his brows, she couldn’t help but feel her anger soften. After all, she had no reason to be vexed with him.

He couldn’t possibly know what the document said. The king’s decree had been sealed for a month, forgotten in the flurry of wedding plans. Since they were wed now, she’d finally opened it, figuring she should know exactly what it said.

But her pardon of Morgan’s complicity didn’t mitigate her anger with everyone else who knew what it contained.

She took the document back.

“According to this,” she said, poring over the words, “The king ‘hereby grants the lairdship of Castle Creagor and all its lands thereto’…” She skipped the boring description of the holding. “‘to Jenefer du Lac upon the condition of her marriage to Morgan Mor mac Giric.’”

“What?” That woke him up.

He seemed just as outraged as she was. He reached across her to grab the candle and took the document to examine the words himself.

She sulked. “My inheritance was apparently secured with the promise of a wedding between us. My kin knew all along. And they didn’t say a word.”

“’Twas to be a political alliance then,” he said in disappointment, lowering the document to rake his hair back from his furrowed brow. “Not a love match.”

“Why?” she asked bitterly. “Why would they do that? Why would they bargain away my…”

She couldn’t finish the thought, because she knew that wasn’t quite accurate. She’d given Morgan her maidenhood freely, of her own accord.

Besides, most marriages between powerful nobles were political alliances. That anyone fell in love after a forced marriage was a rare occurrence.

“Why didn’t they tell us?” she wondered aloud.

There was a long silence before he answered, “I think I know.”

She lifted her brows in askance.

“We would have refused the match,” he said.

“What?”

“Think about it. If your kin had shown up and said that in order to win Creagor, ye’d have to wed me…”

“I would have turned them down.” She’d already decided she didn’t want to win Morgan by force. She only wanted him if it was of his own free will.

“As would I,” he said. “I couldn’t have ye always wonderin’ if I only married ye for your castle.”

She nodded, beginning to understand. “Feiyan. It had to be her idea.”

“Your cousin?”

“She knew I had…feelings…for you. She must have told everyone that the match could be accomplished without force.”

“Without force.”

“Aye. ’tis the same thing she says about her fighting. That there’s greater power in diverting a foe’s own force and using it against them.”

“So ye’re sayin’ they had faith in the power of our love.”

She nodded.

Morgan studied the document more closely. “There’s more.”

“More?”

“Your cousin’s betrothal was bargained for as well.”

“What?” she exploded. “Feiyan?”

“Hallidis.”

She gasped.

Hallie’s hand in marriage seemed too great a price to pay for one border castle. The man who married Hallidis Cameliard of Rivenloch would inherit a valuable prize indeed. After all, she was in line for the lairdship after her mother.

“Hallie’s to be married?”

“So it says.”

She snatched the parchment away. “To whom?” she asked, quickly scanning the document.

Finally she found the name.

“Nay.”

Her heart sank. No wonder Hallie had seemed so glum and resigned when she returned to Creagor. She must have known what was in the king’s decree.

“What’s wrong?” Morgan asked. “Who is it?”

“Archibald Scott.”

“And who is Archibald Scott?”

“He’s at least a decade older than Hallie. And he’s…” How could she describe Archie? “He’s a vain popinjay. A weakhearted coward who faints at the sight of blood.” So she remembered from one of the Scotts’ visits to Rivenloch years ago.

Morgan grimaced. “I’m sorry for her. If it’s any consolation, she probably expected as much. Powerful clans are always pawns in the king’s game. ’Twas the same way with Alicia and me.”

“Aye, and Hallie will do her duty,” Jenefer agreed. But she didn’t approve. And if there was a way to prevent this travesty of a match, she wouldn’t hesitate.

“Wait,” Morgan said. “Ye don’t suppose…”

“Aye?”

“My man Colban has been miserable, mopin’ about like an orphaned pup. He said he might leave Creagor after the weddin’. I thought he was only upset to lose me to a wife.” He lifted a brow. “Ye don’t think somethin’ might have happened between them in the woods, on the way to Rivenloch?”

“Between him and Hallie?” Jenefer asked in disbelief.

In matters of the heart, Hallidis was practical and dispassionate. She didn’t have a romantic bone in her body. Jenefer shook her head.

“Maybe a skirmish or two,” she said. “But when it comes to love, my cousin is about as warm as ice.”

“Ye’re probably right,” Morgan decided. “And Colban’s only restless, goin’ off on an adventure. By the time her returns, he’ll likely have swived every maid between here and Stirlin’.” He took the candle and parchment from her, reaching across her to place them back on the table. “And speakin’ o’ swivin’…”

Any lingering doubts Jenefer had about Hallie and Colban vanished as soon as her new husband claimed her with a soul-searing kiss.

Unlike their earlier trysts, which were wild and frenzied, this time their coupling was sweet, slow, full of languid touches and soft sighs. Morgan sank into her with tender care. And she rose gently up to meet him.

But soon their bodies began to strain and tremble. Their desire grew as taut as a bowstring. And when they could no longer hold back the arrow of their passion, they released their love skyward, sending it across the heavens in a beautiful arc of pleasure.

Before they could float completely back to earth, the music of their mingled gasps was interrupted by a muffled cry from the nursery.

“Miles,” they said in unison.

Then they grinned.

“At least he waited until we were finished,” Jenefer breathed.

Morgan withdrew with a groan and rolled off of her. She missed him at once.

But they had a whole lifetime of coupling ahead of them. Miles, however, wouldn’t be a babe for long.

As she slipped from the bed and into her kirtle, she gave Morgan a wink. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be waitin’.”

He laced his fingers behind his head, displaying the magnificent muscles of his arms and exposing his broad and powerful chest. Lord, he took her breath away. It was hard to believe she’d once considered him a ruthless savage. Even harder to believe he was her husband.

“Before ye go, wife, there’s just one thing I need to know,” he said, narrowing his eyes in smoky challenge. “Ye didn’t marry me for my handsome son, did ye?”

She smiled and gave him a shrug. “Not entirely.”

He chuckled.

When she reached the door, she turned to him. “But ye must promise me one thing, Highlander.”

“Aye? What’s that?”

“Promise me you won’t trade your handsome son for a coo.”

Coming soon...

BRIDE OF ICE

The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch

Book 2