Page 38 of Unwanted Vows

“Not their way,” I reply. “I got toughened up. Between poachers, little bush wars, and epidemics, I learned to focus and do my work. But I’ve never developed their kind of blind eye.”

“Good,” she says. “Good for you. But one other thing…the princess?”

“An arranged marriage between my father’s oldest son and the heir apparent to Ildogis. I was both shocked and delighted when about six years ago, Richard found an envelope of pictures and a birth certificate showing that I am not Albert Lane’s oldest son.”

“Leland?” she guesses, smiling through her tears. It was like the sun coming up after a rainfall. “And Catriona?”

“Yes, indeed, Leland and Catriona. It was perfect timing because Mountain Hold was being hammered by three neighboring villages, and Leland needed somewhere to go.”

“Are you sorry you didn’t marry the princess?”

“Catriona? Not in the least. She’s way too bossy for my taste. Leland has her wrapped around his little finger, and she has him all wrapped up in return.”

“I think I’m insulted,” she says. “I’m not a pushover.”

“No,” I agree, “You are not. You are a different kind of princess. You are a professional, a self-made woman who has made it through hard times on your own merit. The way you managed that tent clinic, wow. I’m glad I wasn’t stuck with it on my own.”

“You did get kind of commandeered,” she says. “Did you know they were going to DNA test the kids?”

“Not until Richard brought them into the clinic. And the family tree thing seemed perfectly logical. Would you have told me about Paul without it?” I hold my breath, hoping that the answer would be yes.

“Maybe. I mean, you weren’t an asshole, like I thought you would be to work with,” she says. “Maybe eventually, but not so soon. And that might have been bad, with your grandfather getting into the act.”

“Yep,” I say, “my kind of princess. Honest and magnificent.”

She blushes, giving her cheeks color and her whole face a glow. I wanted to grab her, run off to the bedroom, either bedroom, and have my way with her right then and there. But I know one wrong move, and I will lose her — handfasted or not.

Then she says something surprising, “Thank you for giving me credit. Did I really keep you out of trouble these last ten years?”

“By giving me a standard by which to measure all women? Giving me something to dream about when I fell into my cot? Oh, Maddy, you are my woman made of flowers, the only thing that felt happy and pure for so long. Sometimes I wasn’t even sure you were real, but even so, you kept me out of a lot of trouble.”

“And you are LLew Llaw Gyffs or whatever his name was?” I had to smile at her mangling of the name.

“Here’s a news bulletin for you: I don’t have a secret lover. I’ve been too busy for romance. Now that Paul is old enough to amuse himself in the evenings, I’ve been thinking about finally going back to school so I can meet my goal of becoming a doctor.”

“That is awesome,” I say, hugging her. “How can I help?”

“Start by letting me breathe,” she squeaks.

“Sorry,” I say, loosening my hold. “It’s just…I think I was part of delaying your education, so to speak. I would like to support you if you want to make up for lost time.”

I expect her to go off on me, to push me away. Instead, she says, “We can talk about that later. Right now I just want one thing.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Kiss me,” she says. “Kiss me like you did all those years ago. I want to know if it is as good as I remember.”

I gather her in my arms, and I kiss her. I don’t know how it was for her but for me it was even better than the memory. She smells of salty tears and honeysuckle. Her mouth tastes like the cinnamon apple tarts we’d had for dessert. She’s warm and solid, not an ethereal memory. Best of all, she’s kissing me back, like she means it.

I say huskily, “If you do that again, maybe we’d better go into the bedroom. Just in case Paul comes out?”

I feel her smile against my lips, just as I remember her doing before. “That might be a good idea,” she says. “Just let me check on him.”

We untangle ourselves. I reach down to give her a hand up, even though she doesn’t need it. I follow her down the hall. She pauses at the door of Paul’s room, smiles, and beckons to me.

I look in. Paul is curled up in the center of his bed, wearing a worn set of Old Navy plaid pajamas. He is sound asleep, his head on Angel’s side. Tucked against his chest is Carousel, the rescue kitten.

I put my arms around Maddy and whisper in her ear, “My room or yours?”

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