by Nora Roberts
"Because part of me accepted it all along. Burying something doesn't mean it ceases to exist. We were born for what happened here." He let out an impatient breath. Why were her shoulders slumped, he wondered, when the worse of any life was behind them? "We've done what we were meant to do, and maybe it was done as it was meant to be."
"You're right, of course." Her shoulders straightened as she turned, and her smile was bright. And false, he realized as he looked into her eyes.
"He can't come back and touch you now."
"No." She shook her head, laid a hand briefly on his. "Nor you. He was swallowed by his own. His kind are always here, but Alasdair is no more."
Then with a laugh she brought his hand to her cheek. "Oh, Cal, if I could give you a picture, as fine and bold as any of your own. How you looked when you hefted that sword over your head, the light in your eyes, the strength rippling in waves around you. I'll carry that with me, always."
She turned then, walked regally to the circle of flowers. In the center she turned, faced him, held out her hands. "Calin Farrell, you met your fate. You came to me when my need was great, when my life was imperiled. In this place you stood between me and the unbearable, fought against magic dark and deadly, wielded sword for me. You've saved my life and in so doing saved this place and all I guard in it."
"Quite a speech," he murmured and stepped closer.
She only smiled. "You're brave and true of heart. And from this hour, from this place you are free."
"Free?" Understanding was dawning, and he angled his head. "Free from you,
Bryna?"
"Free from all and ever. The spell is broken, and you have no debt to pay. But a debt is owed. Whatever you ask that is in my power you shall have. Whatever boon you wish will be yours."
"A boon, is it?" He tucked his tongue in his cheek. "Oh, let's say, like immortality?"
Her eyes flickered—disappointment quickly masked. "Such things aren't within the power I hold."
"Too tough for you, huh?" With a nod, he circled around her as if considering.
"But if I decided on, say, unlimited wealth or incredible sexual powers, you could handle that."
Her chin shot up another inch, went rigid. "I could, if it's what you will. But a warning before you choose. Be wary and sure of what you wish for. Every gift, even given freely, has a price."
"Yeah, yeah. I've heard that. Let's think about it. Money? Sex? Power, maybe.
Power's good. I could have a nice island in the Caribbean, be a benign despot. I could get into that."
"This offer was not made for your amusement," she said stiffly.
"No? Well, it tickles the hell out of me." Rocking back on his heels, he tucked his hands into his pockets. "All I had to do was knock off an evil wizard and save the girl, and I can have whatever I want. Not a bad deal, all in all. So, just what do I want?"
He narrowed his eyes in consideration, then stepped into the circle. "You."
Eyes widening, she jerked back. "What?"
"You. I want you."
"To—to do what?" she said stupidly, then blinked when he roared with laughter.
"Oh, you've no need to waste a boon there." She lifted her hands to unfasten her dress, and found them caught in his.
"That, too," he said, walking her backward out of the circle, keeping her arms up, her hands locked behind her head. "Yeah, in fact, I look forward to quite a bit of that."
The warrior was back, she thought dizzily. There, the glint of battle and triumph in his eyes. "What are you doing?"
"I'm holding you to your boon. You, Bryna, all of you, no restrictions. For better or worse," he continued until he had her backed against the wall. "For richer or poorer. That's the deal."
She couldn't get her breath, couldn't keep her balance. "You want… me?"
"I'm not getting down on one knee when it's my boon."
"But you're free. The spell is broken. I have no hold on you."
"Don't you?" He lowered his mouth, buckling her knees with his kiss. "You can't lie to me." He crushed his lips to hers again, pulling her closer. "You were born loving me." He swallowed her moan and dived deeper. "You'll die loving me."
"Yes." Powerless, she flexed the hands he held above her head.
"Look at me," he murmured, easing back as she trembled. "And see." He gentled his hands, lowered them to stoke her shoulders. "Beautiful Bryna. Mine. Only mine."
"Calin." Her heart wheeled when his lips brushed tenderly over hers. "You love me. After it's done, after it's only you and only me. You love me."
"I was born loving you." The kiss was deep and sweet. "I'll die loving you." He sipped the tears from her cheeks.
"This is real," she said in a whisper. "This is true magic."
"It's real. Whatever came before, this is what's real. I love you, Bryna. You," he repeated. "The woman who puts whiskey in my tea, and the witch who weaves me magic sweaters. Believe that."
"I do." Her breath released on a shudder of joy. She felt it. Love. Trust.
Acceptance. "I do believe it."
"It's time we made a home together, Bryna. We've waited long enough."
"Calin Farrell." She wound her arms around his neck, pressed her cheek against his. "Your boon is granted."
