Percy sniffed. “No.” But even as she spoke, a tear trickled down her cheek, and she started to laugh. “I’m just so happy for you.”
The women all laughed now. Percy always had been the one with the softer emotions, but a swelling belly and a joyful life had rendered more tears in the last few months than she’d most likely shed in the whole of her life. It had become something of a jest between them, meant with the utmost affection.
A shadow fell over the women. They looked up to find the towering form of Kyle blotting out the sun. He crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Are ye making my wife cry?”
The women all looked at one another and answered at once. “Yes.”
Kyle shook his head, but a smile teased the corner of his mouth. “Then in that case, I think I ought to steal her for a dance.”
He held out his broad hand to Percy, who wiped her cheek with the palm of her hand, cast her friends a bright smile, and let her husband pull her away. One large arm settled protectively on Percy’s shoulder, the other rested atop the hand she pressed to her stomach.
Liv watched them go. “Do you think we’ll ever be as silly in love as those two?”
From behind Liv, Ian waved at Sylvi and drew a heart in the air, then pointed to her, winked, and blew her a kiss. Sylvi laughed in spite of herself. “I think we both already are.”
“And I might be a weepy mess myself soon,” Sylvi added.
Liv raised her brows. “Another one? Finally?”
Isla was already five years old. Sylvi had not gotten with child again. Until now.
Sylvi settled a hand to the treasure nestled inside her womb.
A gentle tug came at Sylvi’s side. She turned and found Isla staring up at her with the same warm brown eyes as her father. “Da said if ye dinna dance with him soon, ye’ll be sorry.”
Liv laughed and shook her head. Sylvi knelt before her daughter and stroked a length of impossibly silky blonde hair from Isla’s face. “What would you do if you were me?” she asked.
Isla tilted her head in thought. “I’d make him wait a bit just to see.”
Sylvi couldn’t help but chuckle at this. Of course this was Isla’s answer—the perfect reply for her independent little daughter.
“But he did tell me to give ye this.” Isla pulled her hand from behind her back, where a bit of wild heather wilted in the heat of her fist. “So, I think ye should dance with him.”
“I think that’s good advice.” Sylvi pressed a kiss to her daughter’s head and breathed in the delicate lavender scent. “You’re a smart girl.”
Isla brightened. “And tough.”
“And tough, of course,” Sylvi agreed. “After all, you come from a long line of Norse shieldmaidens from centuries before.”
“My veins run with cold blood, and my body was forged of iron,” Isla recited the words with pride. “And I’m a Campbell to boot!”
“There’s not much tougher than that.” Sylvi ran a hand over her daughter’s silky head and accepted the heather. The limp stems were still warm from her daughter’s hand. “It appears I have a dance waiting for me.” Sylvi rose and embraced Liv once more, truly overjoyed at the pleasure on her friend’s face. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you—and I for you.” Liv squeezed Sylvi affectionately before releasing her. “Congratulations on your growing family.”
Isla pulled at Sylvi’s free hand all the way across the room to where Ian waited with a wide grin on his face.
“Sending a little girl to deliver your threats, Ian?” Sylvi asked in a mock tone.
He shrugged unapologetically. “She’s bonnier than me.” He winked down at Isla, who giggled and slapped a hug around his legs.
The instruments hummed to life, and couples began to dance. Ian gave a playful roar and plucked Isla off his legs, tossing her lightly into the air. She gave a squeal of delight.
“I’ll dance with ye next, little warrior,” Ian promised. “A dance with both the lasses I love most in life. I truly am a lucky man.”
He set Isla on the bench and held out his hand for Sylvi. She settled her fingertips into his palm and let him lead her to the dance floor while their daughter watched with a wistful smile on her lovely face.
“There was a day once I dinna ever think to get ye on the dance floor.” Ian grinned at her. “Guess I’m that good, eh?”
“I guess you are,” Sylvi conceded. “But you owe me five spars for this.”
He glanced down at her stomach and hesitated.
She shot him a chastising look. “You know I’m always careful. And I trust you to be too.”
He looked up at her with his warm brown gaze and stroked a hand down her cheek. “Aye, ye know I’ll always take care of ye and our children.”
The music pulsed low and brought them together. Ian slid his hands around her waist and gently caressed her belly. “Can we start telling people soon?”
Sylvi’s cheeks went warm. “I already told Liv, but I don’t want too many to know. You know how I hate everyone’s attempts to treat me so carefully.”
“They canna help but love ye, and I canna blame them for it.” He stared down at her for a long moment and then smiled at her. “I’m so verra happy, my angel.”
She put her hands in his and let him sway her to the music. “I am too.”
In a world where she never thought to know joy again, in a world where everything in her had been consumed by the need for vengeance, she had found the unthinkable. Love. Family. Happiness.
All far more satisfying ventures, which helped soothe the hurt of the past and filled her empty heart with such warmth, some days it felt near bursting.
She was, like Ian, so very happy. And she knew with certainty there was no better feeling in all the world.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my agent, Laura Bradford, and all the wonderful people at Diversion Books for making this all possible. Thank you to Jaime Levine for her wonderful and thorough edits, and to Kayla Park for ensuring my corrections were solid. And a huge thank you to Erin Mitchell for always being there for me and for all her great ideas!
Thank you so much to Lorrie for all your wonderful suggestions and guidance! You always help make all my books so very wonderful.
Thank you to my amazing beta readers who helped make this story so much more with their wonderful suggestions: Kacy Stanfield, Liette Bougie, Tracy Emro, Karen Overby-Gallegos, Stefanie Harten.
My mother is the most amazing final set of eagle eyes to look over my work—thank you to Janet Kazmirski for always being one of my biggest fans and for doing a final read-through for me. I couldn’t ask for a better mother. I love you so much!
None of this would be possible without the support and love of my family. So a huge thank you to John Somar for always keeping the sky from falling for this Chicken Little and to the minions for being the best cheerleaders ever.
And the biggest thank you of all goes to my amazing readers—I appreciate that you are always so fantastically supportive and eager for my next book.
MADELINE MARTIN is a USA Today bestselling author of Scottish historical romance novels filled with twists and turns, adventure, steamy romance, and empowered heroines and the men strong enough to love them.
She lives a glitter-filled life in Jacksonville, Florida, with her two daughters (known collectively as the minions) and a man so wonderful he’s been dubbed Mr. Awesome. All shenanigans are detailed regularly on Twitter and on Facebook.
Madeline loves animals in sweaters, cat videos, and working out (to support her love of wine and Nutella). As she is unable to have pets herself due to allergies, she has acquired a plastic Halloween skeleton named Nick and a small robot named Meccano—both of whom are dressed up regularly by the minions.
She loves connecting with her readers, so feel free to follow her on any one of her social media platforms, or send her a message:
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