Page 118 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

She giggled, reaching up to kiss him. “Daenae worry. I love to hear it. And for what it’s worth, Hunter, I love ye too.”

He kissed her back slowly, lazily. There would be time for more kissing later, more talk, more exploration. At that moment, however, she was entirely happy to simply lie beside him and look at him. In her mind, willow branches shifted around them, a precious curtain cutting them off from the rest of the world.

“I’m glad ye are here,” she murmured. “I am glad ye found me.”

“I’m inclined to call it a miracle,” he confessed, grinning.

Willow glanced up from her desk as Daphne stepped into the room. Her face lit up.

“Mama! Miss Sutton and I were reading poetry.”

“Gentle poetry,” Miss Sutton added hastily. “Some of the milder Shakespearean sonnets. And we read a little of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Miss Willow seemed to enjoy it.”

“Oh?” Daphne laughed.

“If we spirits have offended, think on this, and all is mended,” Miss Sutton quoted, rising to her feet and collecting her books, “that you did but slumber here, while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme…”

“No more yielding than a dream,” Hunter finished, stepping into the room.

Miss Sutton brightened. “Oh! Does the gentleman read Shakespeare?”

“Nae if I can help it,” he responded wryly.

Willow shrieked and dropped her book. She scrambled off her seat and bolted across the room, launching herself into Hunter’s arms. He lifted her, spinning her round and round, laughing and holding her tight.

Miss Sutton tactfully slipped away, leaving the three of them alone in the room.

No, not three. But four.

A small, three-legged fox slunk into the room, eyes bright and quick. Willow shrieked again and wriggled furiously in her father’s arms, trying to get down. Her feet had barely touched the floor before River leapt into her arms. She held him tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Mama said we had to leave him behind,” she whispered. “Mama, look, he’s here! He’s back! But he’s missing a leg.”

“Aye, lass, Rhiannon had to amputate it,” Hunter murmured. “Best to lose a leg than a life, aye?”

“Aye,” Willow agreed immediately.

She pressed a kiss to River’s head, and the little fox wriggled happily in her arms.

“We’ve got some news for ye,” Daphne announced, crouching down before her. “How would ye like it if Hunter stayed near us? How would ye feel if he were to stay for good?”

Willow’s face lit up. “I would like that a lot! Are ye going to stay, Pa?”

Hunter bent down, kissing her cheek. “Aye, lassie. Yer ma and I will stay together from now on. We’ll be a family, the three of us. The four of us,” he added, nodding at River. “If that’s what ye want, lassie.”

Willow beamed. “Aye, Pa, it is. And Mama, ye will be with us, too? Will we go back to Scotland? To the keep?”

“Maybe one day,” Daphne said, before Hunter could utter a firm no. “But for now, it doesnae matter where we go, because we are a family, and family is the same wherever we go. Now, shall we tell Lady Pilbury the good news? Though I suspect that she might have guessed already.”

EPILOGUE

ONE MONTH LATER

Daphne woke to the sun streaming over her face. She yawned, stretching luxuriously and rolling onto her back. The curtains hadn’t been closed last night, and since Hunter’s estate faced east, morning was a bright time in their front rooms.

She liked it. He didn’t, however. They’d discussed before how much he disliked the sunshine, the heat, and, of course, his English neighbors. Except for Lady Pilbury, of course.

Hunter stirred beside her, and she glanced at him. A soft smile crept onto her face. He was naked to the waist, his broad shoulders and strong back turned toward her. Rolling onto her side, she trailed her fingertips down the curve of his spine.