Page 169 of Peasants and Kings
“Some would,” he agreed. “But I knew from the beginning it was never about the money for you. I was never going to let you leave me. I’ll fight for you every day if I have to. I’ll protect you. I’ll love you. I’ll make you happy, Sterling.”
“My mother was wrong,” I said quietly.
“Oh? What about?”
“She told me all I had to do was survive. But that wasn’t enough, Hadrian. I had to fall in love—I had to have a reason for living.”
With stars in my eyes and a dreamy smile on my lips, I leaned over to kiss my husband, the love of my life, the man who had fought for me, and who would fight for me always.
No woman could wish for anything more.
Epilogue
Three months later
I stood on the balcony that overlooked the ocean. Winter air cooled my heated cheeks but did nothing to douse the flame of desire that burned brighter now than ever before.
The sound of tumultuous waves hit my ears, making me smile.
I heard his soft footsteps, slow, labored. Hadrian was still healing.
His arms enveloped me from behind, tucking me into his protective embrace as his flaming red beard rubbed my cheek. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice husky with sleep and passion.
“Aside from freezing?” I turned my face toward his for a kiss. When we pulled away, my head felt light, and I was fizzy with happiness.
I leaned back against his chest, letting the poignancy of the moment wash over me. His hands slipped down my body to gently rest on the swell of my belly.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
“Delirious,” I admitted. “You?”
He paused long enough for me to look up at him and arch a brow. Hadrian grinned down at me and placed a kiss at the tip of my nose. “I’m not a poet, aye? Give me a minute to find the words.”
I inclined my head but refused to turn my gaze away from him. His nose had healed, but it was slightly more crooked than before. His body had new scars, but he had survived.
Hadrian Rhys.
Warrior. Lover. Husband.
And soon to be father.
“There’s no amount of wealth that can ever buy what we have,” he said. “Money. Power. None of it matters. Not without you.”
He let me go, but only so he could swivel me to face him. “I had a house, but you made it a home. I had a life, but I wasn’t really alive.”
His hands stole down my body to rest again on my stomach.
The symbol of our love.
“The world is made up of peasants and kings,” he said.
“And you’re an emperor?” I asked with a winsome smile.
“No. Just a man,” he said, his voice raw, aching. “Just a man who was lucky enough to find heaven on earth.”
