Page 77 of My Highland Bride

When he leans down, his lips coaxing mine open, I think I know which remedy he refers to.

“I had not heard of lovemaking as a remedy for a headache before, but I’m willing to see if it might work.”

“Are you now? And how do you know that’s the remedy I refer to, my saucy wife?”

Smiling, I pull my husband back down atop me.

“Was it not?”

His smile contents my heart, and then he kisses me, and the worry I’ve felt all day is replaced with love and hope. For us, for Cettina . . .

And for Edingham.

Epilogue

Erik

When I walk into the hall, having been told on my way abovestairs Reyne could be found there despite the late hour, I’m unprepared for the sight before me. Laughing at something the lord of Carwell says, her head tipped back and hands covering her face, my wife is the epitome of a Highland bride.

That the ladies at court consider reservation in temperament a desirable quality has always been off-putting to me. A Highland woman cares little for hiding her emotions, very much like her male counterparts. There are exceptions, of course, but I’m glad Reyne isn’t one of them.

I pause at the threshold, leaning against the wall, content to watch her game of chess with the elderly lord. A friend to the crown, as tough a Borderer as they come, he is well respected and clearly enamored with my wife. Again he says something to make her laugh, and I cannot help but smile at the sight.

“My lord?”

A young servant pauses beside me, and I put my finger to my lips.

“I’d not disturb them. It seems my wife is enjoying your lord’s company quite well.”

The young man nods. “They’ve been there since supper ended. She beat him once already, lord, and I fear he’ll not let her leave until he is avenged.”

“Hmmm,” I murmur as the boy walks away. It seems if I do not disturb their game, I might be standing here well into the night.

And after the day I’ve had, there are other things I would much prefer to be doing with my wife. Considering them, I walk forward, and my presence in the otherwise empty hall is finally noticed.

The smile on Reyne’s face lifts my mood, something that shouldn’t be possible. But apparently it doesn’t soften my expression, because Carwell takes one look at me and asks, “Does your husband always look so grim?”

Reyne reaches her hand up to me as I get close. I take it and stand beside her.

“Nay, the very opposite,” she says, continuing to hold my hand. “The news is not good?” she guesses.

“It is not.”

She and Carwell look up at me expectantly. I squeeze her hand gently.

“She has simply vanished,” I say of Lady Hilla. While the queen returned to the capital with our captives, I stayed on, at Cettina’s request, to continue the search for her sister. “We found the traveler and his son who claimed to have seen her on a road just outside of Craighcebor. They recognized her only because the father met her once at court. A mercenary, apparently.”

There was more, but nothing else that I was willing to mention in front of Lord Carwell.

“But that was before the attack,” I added. “No one we spoke to has seen her since.”

“And her husband claims to know nothing of her whereabouts,” Reyne finished.

Carwell makes a disgusted sound. “A bastard, to be sure, to blame her when we all know his ambitions are outweighed only by Lord Hinton’s in Meria.”

“Any news of the king’s nephew?” I think to ask. Borderers oft learn of events across the river more quickly than we do in the capital.

“Since he made a formal claim for the throne, backed by the church? Nay.”