Warrior and the Wanderer (35 page)

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Authors: Elizabeth Holcombe

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Ian stepped back a wee bit and handed the whisky bottle to her.

“It broke the window as it flew out of the car before I did. I followed it. It’s a miracle the bottle and I survived in one piece.”

Bess reached up. His face bore wee cuts and scratches, from the rim of broken glass he had leapt through.

“Lachlan screamed all the way,” Ian said. “I don’t think he wanted to go, but I’m sure he has found his proper place in my time.” He tapped a finger on the bottle in Bess’s hand.

She looked down at the label. A gasp shuddered over her lips.

MacLean’s Finest Aged Whisky.

The face on the label was unmistakable. The arrogant profile, chin lifted high, small scar in the upper lip, shock of dark hair over a wide forehead, sharp stab of nose with a lump in the middle. She smiled at that part.

“Lachlan has made himself quite wealthy and famous,” Ian proclaimed.

Bess looked up from the bottle into his eyes. “But ’twas ye who was supposed to have riches as yer reward.”

“I do,” he said. “If you’ll have me.”

She narrowed her gaze. “What are ye asking me, Ian MacLean?”

He knelt on the rocky ground.

A hush raced through the gathering behind Bess. She mirrored their surprise. Her heart pounded so fast she thought she would faint straight away.

Ian took her hand. “I love you, Bess Campbell. Marry me.”

“Marry ye?” she whispered.

She dropped the bottle. It shattered on the rocky ground.

“Aye, Ian, I will marry ye.”

He rose to his feet and captured her in his arms. They kissed as the crowd behind them shouted a deafening approval. Alasdair’s shouts were the loudest.

Bess closed her eyes and listened to the sound of her heart happily thrumming in her chest. She pressed her body against Ian’s and felt his powerful heart beating in time with hers.

Marriage. The meaning was as bright as the shining sun, as bright as the light that had brought Ian to her—twice.

Ian held tight to the woman he loved. He glanced at the Dane but he was no longer there. Ian closed his eyes and held Bess firmly, feeling her breathe, feeling her life. She had given him more than the life he had lived ever had. She had given him a chosen destiny, a reason to walk through life with his chin rightfully held high.

He knew he would never see the Dane, the balance-keeper, again. He silently wished him a good retirement in Valhalla.

“Perhaps Valhalla is here,” he whispered.

“What?” Bess asked looking into his eyes.

He stared at her for the longest time, taking in every detail of her, knowing he could do so whenever he wished.

“Nothing,” he said. Everything.

He nodded toward the castle. “Let’s go home.”

“Is that all ye can think to say?” she teased.

“Just warming up, Blaze,” he said a sly grin on his lips. “We have to rest a wee bit, before we can take the world by storm. I’ve got a few ideas.”

“And a song to sing?”

“Endless songs to sing.” He gave her a squeeze. “Thanks to you.”

He took her up in a kiss that no love song could ever describe. But, later, he would damn well try.

THE END

About the Author

E
lizabeth Holcombe knew she wanted to be a writer after reading Louise Fitzhugh’s
Harriet the Spy
at age ten. Elizabeth is an award winning author and past president of Washington Romance Writers. She lives in Falls Church, Virginia with her husband and son.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

About the Author

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