"We'll share the middle, but I have no doubt you'll find some way to make your displeasure felt."

"I'm glad you realize that."

"Now you will apologize to me."

"For insulting you when you first took us?"

"For looking at Talorc's cock with such interest."

"It wasn't interest, it was curiosity. Surely you can see the difference."

"From this point forward you will reserve such curiosity for me. Promise me this."

"I promise."

He waited.

"And I'm sorry, but I'm a very curious sort of person."

"I know, love, I know."

It was the second time he'd called her that. Perhaps it would not take until they were old and gray before he admitted his feelings. Being who she was, Emily simply asked outright, "Do you love me?"

His smile was warmer than the summer sun. "Can't you tell? I've told you twice now in Chrechte."

"Oh." But the daft man had not realized hearing the words in a language she understood would have made her choice to marry him so much easier. "Say it in Gaelic," she demanded.

He did. Then in English and Latin after that.

She was crying by the time he was done. He kissed her all over her face, sipping at her tears and then gently claiming her mouth in a tender connection that filled her with absolute certainty of his sincerity. Afterward, he kissed her once more on her temple. "I will love you to my dying breath."

"And I will love you just as long."

"You had better."

"Arrogant Chrechte."

"Precious mate."

She smiled, blinking away more tears of joy. He returned her smile and cuddled her into his side. Finally, they slept.

The next morning they heard the news that Ulf had discovered the escape route she and Cait had used to get out of the keep. The walls had been slick with rain and the wind had been blowing fiercely the night before. And as Cait had predicted, his plaid had not been adequate to make a sufficiently long rope. He was found at the base of the castle wall with his neck broken.

While it was a terrible tragedy, Emily was relieved for Lachlan's sake. Justice had been met for the murderer, but the man she loved had not been forced to mete it out on his own brother.

Lachlan was furious at the discovery. Not because Ulf was dead, but because the women had risked their own lives climbing out.

Emily tried to explain that it hadn't been raining when they did it, that their rope had been much longer and that she and Cait were never in any danger of falling. But it did no good. Lachlan only yelled louder and Drustan glowered more fiercely until both women ended up promising never, ever to try such a thing again. (Though apparently Cait had already promised this once, having told Drustan of their rope the night before. Emily had been too addled by the prospect of marriage to remember.)

"And did you ever consider the security of the keep while you were leaving ropes dangling from windows?" Lachlan demanded. " 'Tis a good thing Cait thought to tell Drustan." Emily did not take umbrage at the question, for it came after twenty minutes spent harping on her personal safety. She came first, but now he felt the need to slip back into his role as laird. However, she believed her reasons for being forgetful were more than adequate.

"Had you not overwhelmed my attention with a wedding and what came after, I would surely have remembered to tell you about the rope before it could be of danger."

"Are you trying to imply our marriage inconvenienced you, English?"

"Sent the rest of my thoughts flitting from my head more like," she said with a smile.

That pleased him and he smiled as well.

"You can't keep calling me that, you know."

"What?"

"English."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm Balmoral now. I have it on good authority we're a clan of Highlanders."

"Would you prefer I call you sweeting?"

"I do like that."

He laughed and pulled her into his arms. "You're going to lead me on a merry chase."

"I should not want you to grow bored with me, laird."

"I love you too much to ever do that, but I have a feeling my hair will be silver before the birth of our first child."

"Will your wolf's fur go gray if the hair on your head does?" she asked, her curiosity immediately aroused.

His eyes narrowed warily. "No."

She peppered him with questions after that and he only got her to cease by taking her to bed. Afterward, he taught her how to declare her love in Chrechte.

The next day she asked him if they could send for her sister Abigail and he agreed. "What about your Scottish king? I don't want him making trouble for my sister."

"Talorc has already agreed to go speak with him."

"He's not as bad as I thought he was."

"Our king?"

"Talorc."

"But I'm still the only Chrechte you love."

"You are the only man, Chrechte or human, that I could ever love," she vowed firmly.

"That is as it should be."

She hit his arm and then winced. The man had muscles like boulders. "You are supposed to say I am the only woman you could ever love."

"Do you not know this already?" he asked quite seriously.

She made no effort to stifle her happy grin. "Yes, in fact, I believe I do. But I still want you to say it."

He lifted her and held her close to his chest, his eyes filled with devouring hunger and the love she now recognized had been there as long as her own. "There is no other female, wolf or human, that I could ever love as I do you, sweeting."

"I think I'd like another swimming lesson."

"I believe I might enjoy that myself, but this time I will do what I longed to the first time we were in the loch."

"Drown me?"

He laughed out loud, the sound warming her clear through. "Make love to you."

"It will not take too much time from your important duties?" she teased.

"Nothing is more important to me than you."

And she knew it was true.

She had come to the Highlands to save her sister, but had ended up finding her own happiness. A wound that had opened on her mother's death and been torn wide by her father's rejection, finally closed. She had not thought it humanly possible, but then her husband, the love of her life, was more than human, and she would not have him any other way.