She welcomed him, opening her mouth with an erotic little moan of surrender, and wrapping her arms around his neck.
St. Ninian alone knew how long they stood there in one another’s arms, breathing each other’s air and reveling in the knowledge they were alive. For Rory, a million heartbeats—a million lifetimes—could’ve passed, or a blink of an eye. All he knew was this was right, this was perfect, and he would never, ever let her go.
Eventually, the sound of cheering broke through the perfect cocoon he’d wrapped around himself, and he felt her smile against his lips. He pulled away just far enough to rest his forehead against hers, his sword still dangling from his other hand. When she tightened her hold on his neck and smiled, he slowly exhaled.
“I love ye,” she whispered.
“And I love ye,” he replied. “But do no’ ever ask me to stand by and watch ye battle for yer life again, no’ without helping ye.”
“Ye did help me,” she pointed out with a smirk.
“Aye, but I did my best to allow ye yer challenge first.” He shook his head slightly, then pressed himself against her once more. “Christ Almighty, Citrine, do ye ken what that did to me, to watch ye fight him? To watch ye fall?”
Around them, the sounds of stomping, metal banging against metal, and cheering seemed to form a wall around them, but Citrine’s fiery eyes burned up at him.
“I’ll no’ ask ye again, my love. But only if ye swear to stand beside me on everything.”
“I swear it,” he said fervently. “I’d even stand in front of ye, if ye’d allow it.”
She chuckled. “And I’d stand in front of ye for the same reason. I would protect ye if I could.”
“I’m a pirate, love. I need no protection.”
“Nay.” Her lips brushed against his. “Ye’re a laird’s husband.”
He’d just begun to chuckle when something slammed into his back.
As he spun, he tucked Citrine against his hip and lifted his sword, prepared to shove her aside if necessary. A thought flickered through his mind that she wouldn’t appreciate him protecting her this way, but he could buy her time to retrieve her sword from Dougal’s chest and—
Thank Christ Rory had years of experience on a pitching deck, because he managed to halt his movements in time, and keep from falling over when a beaming Duncan slapped him on his back a second time.
“Whoa, lad, I see yer blood is still boiling, aye?” The older man laughed. “After a fight like that—a kiss like that!—I can imagine!”
“Da,” Citrine groaned, dropping her forehead to Rory’s shoulder, “go away.”
“No’ a chance, daughter!” Duncan was still chuckling when he turned to his men and raised his hand for silence. It took a bit, but eventually the gathered warriors elbowed one another to attention. “Ye all understood what happened here, aye? A challenge was issued and met.”
Citrine straightened as the men nodded in agreement, some more enthusiastically than others. “Aye! I ken ye never thought to have a woman as a laird, but I am my father’s most logical choice of his offspring, and by losing, Dougal forfeited no’ just his life, but his right to the position.”
A voice from the crowd rang out, “But ye didnae beat him.”
Citrine glared as if trying to figure out who had spoken. “I didnae beat him alone. But ’twas my sword that took his life.”
Before the man could taunt her into an argument, Rory lifted his chin. “I helped her, aye. When my betrothed—the woman I love—was in danger, I stepped up to help. Who among you would do differently?”
When the men began to mutter and nod, he shot Citrine a glance to ask her to let him handle this. She’d called him a leader of men; let him use that skill.
“Aye, I helped her. I engaged Dougal in combat, while she recovered. But ’twas her blade which ended his life. ’Twas her blade which removed a coward and a traitor from the Sinclair ranks.” He nudged Dougal’s body with his foot, then spat on it. “And ’tis her blade that remains in his wicked heart.”
The rumblings turned to outright jeers and calls of agreement, as Rory sheathed his sword. He held up one hand for silence and reached for Citrine with his other. “I am no’ a Sinclair warrior, but I hope ye’ll accept me as one of yer own. I left Lewes to captain a ship, and I’ll confess I was angered to learn my father had bartered me away on a marriage contract I didnae want.” He smirked down at Citrine, who rolled her eyes at him, to the men’s laughter. “But then I met my firebrand here, I decided mayhap my father and Laird Sinclair kenned what they were doing.”
Over the laughter, Rory lifted his voice. “Citrine is a strong warrior and an intelligent leader, but she could no’ defeat Dougal alone. Nay, ye saw that. I have nae claim to Sinclair lands, but I do claim a Sinclair’s heart. As long as she—and Clan Sinclair—will have me, I’ll stand beside her and protect her and these lands with my blade, my life, and my heart.”
That declaration earned a roar of approval from the gathered men, and Citrine tugged his lips down to hers. She brushed a kiss across them, then murmured, “Thank ye.”
“Together we are stronger, my love,” he whispered in response and knew she’d understood when her lips tugged into a smile.
It was the laird himself who stopped the celebration, waving his hands over his head to gain everyone’s attention. “Shut yer mouths, ye lot! Ye havenae heard the best part! Shut up!”
As the men quieted once more, Duncan hooked his thumbs into his sword belt and rocked back on his heels, a smile on his face. He took a deep breath and launched into a booming tale.
“Generations ago, we Sinclairs had a brooch, the symbol of our power, aye?” He didn’t wait, but hurried on with the story. “But a witch of a woman—Dougal’s grandmother, actually—married my grandda and grew jealous of the Sinclair power. Thinking to weaken the clan so her own sons could claim it, she stole the brooch and divided up the jewels, sending them to her kin across the Highlands.”
The men’s reactions ranged from anger to laughter, clearly disbelieving the story. But Duncan continued.
“These sisters she sent the jewels to, they werenae as cold-hearted as Dougal’s grandmother. They didnae let the story die, but passed the legend down to their children through clues and hints. But it would’ve ended there, had nae one thought to search for these clues.”
“And now, Chief?” someone called. “Ye’ve found the jewels again?”
“No’ I,” boomed Duncan, his smile resting on Citrine. “The legend said only the most skilled and bravest Sinclair warrior would be able to return the jewels to the Sinclairs. That warrior is fit to lead the clan with a strong man by her side.”
The mutterings increased as the men realized who Duncan was talking about. Rory squeezed her shoulders and grinned down at Citrine.
“Ye’d better show them, love.”
She shrugged out of his hold and scrambled for her leather satchel, pulling out the pouch he’d wrapped the brooch in. He watched her take a deep breath, then shove her hand into the air, turning to allow all the gathered men the chance to see the jewels.
The sun caught the facets of the sapphire and citrine, throwing blue and gold light across the crowd, while the agate and pearl shone beautifully. As one, the gathered men sucked in reverent breaths.
And as Citrine slowly turned, showing the face of the Sinclair jewels to all those gathered, a warrior sunk to one knee. Another followed, then another, until all the gathered men—the might of the Sinclairs—knelt before her. Rory wasn’t sure if they were saluting the return of the brooch, or her right to lead the clan, but the respect they showed was humbling.
Stepping up beside Duncan, Rory knew he couldn’t leave this unsaid. “Ye pledged yer loyalty to yer clan and yer history. Ye fought bravely for Duncan, even kenning the Sinclair jewels were missing. Now that they’ve returned?” He didn’t wait for their confusion to clear, but pushed on. “Will ye acknowledge Citrine Sinclair, the warrior brave and cunning enough to no’ onl
y collect and return the jewels to their rightful home, but weed out the traitor in our midst, as yer leader?”
The men’s “Ayes!” were deafening.
Rory turned to Duncan, and when he saw the twinkling in the man’s eyes, offered his hand. The laird clasped his forearm.
“I’ll be pleased to call ye son-in-law. Seems yer father and I kenned what we were doing, eh?”
Rory smiled in return. “Aye, and I swear I’ll make Citrine happy.”
“I trust her enough to ken how to deal with ye if ye didnae, lad!” He snorted and shook his head, still smiling. “But what ye said was the truth. Ye’re what Citrine needs, no’ only as a husband but a partner. I donae intend to die for many a year, but when I do, I’ll be happy kenning I’m leaving the Sinclairs in both yer hands.”
Feeling his throat close up with emotion, Rory could manage little more than a nod and a choked, “Thank ye, Laird Sinclair.”
And then Citrine was between them, her arms around his neck, and Duncan was moving away to laughter and slaps on his back.
Rory grinned down at his betrothed. “Ye did it,” he murmured. “Ye returned the jewels and saved yer father. Ye brought a future to the Sinclairs.”
Her eyes seemed to sparkle even more than usual, and that’s when he realized they were bright with unshed tears. Still, her smile was perfect.
“I couldnae have done it alone, Rory. No’ only did ye help me defeat Dougal, but ye gave us the pearl. I’d only have three of the stones, even if I’d followed Da to discover my mother. Ye’re the reason we have all four.”
With his hands on her hips, he pulled her up against him. “A fortnight ago I was watching my niece Charlotte playing and bemoaning the fact my wife would never match her spirit. Who would’ve thought, when I saw that merchant ship, I’d meet no’ only my betrothed, but the woman I’d love?”
With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she shifted her hips against his, and when his cock invariably gave an eager jump, smirked up at him.
“Aye, and a fortnight ago I was complaining to my sister that I’d no’ marry the youngest son of some far-off laird who lived on a smelly island.” She grinned. “I told her I donae even like fish, which is the truth!”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “Lent must be miserable around here.”
She tugged lightly on the hair at the back of his neck. “What I meant was that I’d nae intention of living on Lewes. I was going just long enough to find the stone hidden there and return. Ye cannae imagine my surprise when I saw ye pull the pearl out as if it were nothing more than a bauble.”
“I think I can,” he murmured, remembering the expression on her face. “And ye were so angry.”
“I was ready to give myself to ye that day.”
When she flushed slightly after her admission, Rory realized what she’d meant, and his cock jumped again.
“Ye mean in exchange for yer jewels? All I wanted was a kiss.”
“Aye, I ken that now, but ye were a pirate. I expected the worst.”
Pressing his hips forward, making sure she knew exactly how much he wanted her, he brushed a kiss against her lips. “I am honorable,” he murmured. “But only so far. Ye can tempt a pirate or a priest.”
Grinning, she wriggled again. “Ye’re a pirate nae longer, husband-to-be. The Black Banner will have to retire, if ye hope to rule by my side.”
“I ken it.” When she ground against him again, he stifled a groan and dropped his forehead to hers. “’Twill nae be a hardship, lass, but my men will have to decide if they want to serve the next Black Banner or return home.”
“They’re welcome to come to Sinclair lands.”
“Aye,” he gasped, “I’ll tell them so.”
Around them, the celebration continued as Duncan promised his men ale and the full tale that evening at supper. But Rory’s world had shrunk to the fiery eyes before him and the perfect woman in his arms who grinned so mischievously.
“Then I think we’ve settled all but one important matter,” she said in a teasing tone.
God’s blood, but it was hard to think when he was this aroused. “Aye?”
“Aye.” Her tone turned serious. “I think we need to go back to my chambers and lock the door so we cannae be disturbed.”
He knew what he wanted her to say, but teased her right back. “So we can keep looking for more hints about the jewels?”
“Nay.” She winked and pulled his head down toward hers. “So ye can investigate how easy it is to make love to me in a gown for a change.”
He burst out laughing just as her lips claimed his, and he knew in his heart he was where he belonged.
Epilogue
A year later…
“I cannae believe we’re all together again!”
Citrine reached for Agata’s hand, squeezing it just to reassure herself she was really there. Their oldest sister had the longest journey home, which is why this was her first visit since marrying the Mackenzie regent last summer. She’d arrived two days ago, and Citrine had so enjoyed catching up with her.
Agata squeezed her hand in return. “I never doubted it would happen, but I’m thrilled the weather cooperated, and we have so much to celebrate!”
The two of them smiled across the room, to where Pearl was chatting animatedly with a slender young woman—Merrick’s natural daughter, Mary, and her husband. Pearl was patting the bottom of her infant daughter, one of the reasons they had all gathered.
“Do ye think she’ll bring her over here?” Agata’s husband Jaimie was watching the bairn with a hint of wistfulness on his scarred face. “She’s such a sweet little angel.”
Agata released Citrine’s hand and wrapped her arm around her stepson Callan’s shoulders as she smiled indulgently at her husband. “Ye didnae get enough of holding her yesterday?”
Shrugging, Jaimie looked a little sheepish. “I’m as surprised as ye are to discover I’m quite enamored of wee bairns.”
For as long as Citrine could recall, Agata had dreamed of a husband and children to care for. This oldest Sinclair Jewel was the heart of them all; the one who’d held them together and cared the most. She, more than anyone, deserved a houseful of bairns to care for, and it seemed as if mayhap her husband felt the same way.
Citrine wanted to ask but wasn’t sure if the topic was appropriate for eight-year-old Callan. “Have ye played with yer cousins yet?” she asked him, nodding across the room to where Merrick Sutherland’s brood were cavorting, their nurse frazzled and overworked as she tried to keep up with them all.
Merrick and Saffy had hired extra help to control all his children, but they were still rambunctious as ever. Interestingly, since their marriage, no new Sutherland bastards had shown up at their doors, although Saffy seemed strangely at ease with the knowledge it might happen again. Citrine knew there was more to the story than she understood but didn’t need to learn Merrick’s secrets.
Callan snorted politely. “I have, thank ye. ’Tis a bit overwhelming.”
Bursting into laughter, Citrine had to agree. “Very diplomatic, Laird Mackenzie,” she admitted with a slight bow, which made the boy smile. “I imagine ’tis a surprise to go from being an only child to having a dozen cousins.”
The lad shrugged. “I donae mind all of them. Adelaide seems quite nice and studious, but she’s so old. Maggie and Becks and Nolan and the others are too rambunctious. The younger ones are aright, I suppose.” He shrugged, then looked up at his uncle. “Aunt Pearl let me hold wee Mala yesterday for a while, and I liked her verra much. She doesnae speak, ye ken.”
Jaimie nodded solemnly at his nephew. “A verra important character trait when choosing friends.”
“Aye.” The lad puffed out his chest. “Besides, I have to learn how to care for a bairn. Agata taught me how to keep my hand under her head.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I have to ken these things, ye understand, for when my bairn arrives.”
Thinking the lad was already considering his adult years, C
itrine began to chuckle. But when she noticed her sister’s blush, she caught her breath.
“Agata! Does he mean what I think he means?”
With a small smile, Agata reached for her husband’s hand. Jaimie was beaming proudly.
“Aye,” he rumbled. “We werenae sure ’twould ever happen, but our prayers have been answered.”
“Praise God,” Citrine whispered, tears coming to her eyes.
“For what?” Rory startled her when he slipped his arms around her from behind. “Why are we all looking so shocked over here?”
Callan lifted his chin. “I’m going to be a big brother, Uncle Rory. Aunt Citrine is a bit overwhelmed, so be polite, please.”
The wee lad’s serious tone made Citrine smile through her tears, and as she reached for her sister to hug her, Rory offered Jaimie his hand. “Congratulations!” The other man wrapped his ruined hand around Rory’s forearm, both of them beaming.
“And how about ye?” Agata whispered, holding Citrine close. “I ken ye have duties, but when will ye be having a wee one to follow?”
Citrine exchanged a glance with Rory. They’d spent the last year ensuring they wouldn’t have a child, just because of their new responsibilities. They’d traveled so often in the last twelve months, she couldn’t imagine having a bairn as well.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to explain it to her older sister. “I ken it needs to happen. The clan will be settled much better if I have a few sons to follow after us when we’re in charge. But we’re just no’ ready yet.”
Nodding, Agata leaned back. “I understand. But ye should consider it before Da is gone. No’ only does he adore bairns, but ’twill be much easier to raise them before the two of ye have to take over yer full duties as laird.”
Citrine reached for Rory’s hand, and he slipped into her embrace easily. “Aye, we’ve considered that. Sometime in the next year or so, mayhap, because Da is healthier than ever.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Agata smiled. “I couldnae believe it, when I read yer letter explaining everything which had happened.”
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