Page 23 of Highland Warrior
Kenna rested her head on his shoulder. “Then how can you be angry?”
Niall’s brows drew together, but he was silent.
Bael took Morgana into his arms, as well, sharing a silent and desperate embrace with his mate. Keeping a hand locked with his, she went to the Grimoire and retrieved it, unsurprised that it was completely intact.
“You heard what the Horseman said.” She ran fingers across the pages. “It is your descendants who will be the prophesied Four. The de Morays who will… who will break the Seals.”
Malcolm nodded. “I’ll do everything I can to make certain that they are ready when the time comes, to defeat the Horsemen in need be.”
“Is such a thing possible?” Vían murmured.
Malcolm blinked down at her, his heart too full for him to form any words for an answer.
She looked like the goddess, herself, swathed in his robes of green and gold, her ebony curls flowing over his colors.
He knew he looked like nothing more than an average man left in only his kilt and tunic. Stripped of all artifice, pomp, and duty, he could be only a man. A man who devoted his everything to her. A man who could give her what he’d given no other living soul. Could do what he’d done for none other.
Slowly, he bent his knees, lowering himself until they rested on the cold stones and he was kneeling at her feet.
A King, and yet her loyal subject.
“Though I rule this land, I know it will not be thus forever.” He took her trembling hand, his blood quickening at the adoration shining down at him from her eyes. That indefinable spark passing between them as it had in the very beginning. “Our ways will die, but our line never will. Do ye ken how I know that?”
Wordlessly, she shook her head, as fresh tears spilled from her eyes.
“Because my worship of ye is the most sacred magic there is, and if they are raised as a product of that love, then they will have every chance to write their own destiny.”
“As we have.” Vían smiled.
“No,mo ghaol, my love.” He rose and gathered her close. “Ye were always my destiny.”
