Page 146 of Come the Morning

“Never fear again, my love, for you needn’t be jealous, or in pain. No matter where I am, my lady, my heart and soul are in your keeping. You are all I need.”

She had never known such sweet pleasure. Then, even as he spoke, they crested a hill, and out in a sparkling sea, she saw their fortress.

“Waryk, we’re home.”

“Aye, lady.”

“Our baby will be born there. Dozens of babies, perhaps.”

“Dozens?”

“Well, several, at the very least. A very large family, my love.”

He leaned his cheek against her head. “As you wish, my lady. The king once told me that I must create my own kin. What he never told me was that …”

“Aye?”

“I would find all I needed in you,” he said softly.

She touched his cheek. “Who would have ever known …”

“Aye?”

“That I could come to so love and adore such an old, decrepit Norman knight!” she said, and smiled.

“Watch your tongue, wife,” he warned with a growl.

“Oh, aye, sire. But you are part Norman. And I’ve heard there’s a wee bit of Viking blood, and Celtic, of course, some Anglo-Saxon, maybe—”

“Aye, my lady, and you are Pictish, Celtic, and Viking. And our babe will be all things—”

“Scottish!” she said softly.

“Aye, it is what we are made of, as we come to peace with one another.”

“And, m’laird, we are at peace, are we not?”

He arched a brow, a half smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I imagine we’ll still have a few rather fierce arguments.”

“For all the years to come,” she agreed pleasantly. “What would life be without them?”

“Indeed, you are charming when you try to atone for your sins,” he said gravely.

“My sins!” she exclaimed, and then saw the laughter in his eyes.

“You’re terribly disobedient, as a wife, you know.”

“Well, I am a Viking’s daughter. And you’re a fierce warrior, the king’s champion. There are bound to be disagreements, but … oh, Waryk! Look at the isle from here, the stone of the fortress is silver in the sunlight … it’s so beautiful.”

“That it is,” he agreed; then he queried, “Up to a race?”

“Always, my love.”

He nudged Mercury hard, and they raced across the wild, windswept crags and green valleys of Scotland.

Home. Their land.

And the land of their unborn babe …

And all their sons and daughters yet to be.