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“I knew enough.”

Her smile faltered.

“We were meant to be together Cait,” he said seriously. “I was meant to be there that day, to save you. And you were meant to come back into my life, to save me.”

“But . . . I did nothing. I didn’t save you at all.”

“I had nothing. This rebellion . . .” He kissed her lips, just to reassure himself he still could. “Only a fool would be so daring. One who had little to live for but the approval of his people.”

“And his friends.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “And them.” He reached up to cup her cheeks. “But I have you now, Cait. And I vow to do everything possible to come back to you.”

“You had best do so,” she said, her expression both desperate and hopeful. “I did not make the journey from Bradon Moor, endure an attack at Dromsley, and disguise myself as one of your men just to become a widow.”

“For that reason, we will persevere.”

Any remaining doubts he had vanished.

He would not fail England.

He would not fail Cait.

Conrad was ready.

But first he’d make love to his wife. Again.