Epilogue

Essence of the game has run its course,

object of the game achieved—love was won and nothing lost.

— Maeve Montgomerie

Night was quickly approaching, turning the snow blanketing the landscape to purple and blue. Lesslyn stood watching the winter scape beyond the double windows of the lord's chamber. Married for only a sennight, she loved her new life and could not imagine being happier.

Her husband's laughter drew her back from reliving how they met. Remembering their first kiss beneath a snow-covered tree. Giving a sigh of contentment, Lesslyn moved to light the candles about their rooms.

A messenger had fetched a letter to Grantham only moments ago; thus, she was curious what words had moved him to laughter. "Pray tell, what brings such mirth to you, husband?" Lesslyn smiled, dropping into his lap.

Grantham chuckled again. Shaking his head, he tossed the missive down on the table. "Sometimes Fate plays strange tricks upon us and our destinies."

"Not having second thoughts about our marriage, are you?" she teased, knowing that was not the truth. Grantham was as happy as she. She had no doubts over that. She plucked up the piece of parchment and tried to read it. "Whilst I am making good progress with letters, I fear this is still beyond me."

He brushed a kiss to her lips, and then a smile slowly spread over his sensual mouth. "Actually, this message is for Greyson—though I am not sure where he is, or even if he will care. It seems, my love, this is a ransom note."

"Ransom? Good lord! Who has been snatched for a ransom? Who demands it?"

He leaned back in the chair so he could watch her face. "You recall the Welshman who attacked your cadre on the way here?"

"That I do. Such would be hard to forget. You speculated at the time that Greyson might know who the man is."

He nodded his head. "And obviously, he does. It seems this Welshman has abducted Elspeth on the road back to Sancerre."

"You jest?" she gasped.

He held up his hand, palm flat, as if swearing to the truth. "He has her—according to his missive—and he will trade her for a thousand pounds gold to be delivered by Greyson. They are to meet at Borely Abby on Twelfth Night to make the exchange. I am assuming the one writing lacks any notion that the day has already passed. Besides, Greyson is just perverse enough to tell him to keep her. In truth, she is not worth that price."

"Oh, dear, what shall we do?"

Grantham's hand caressed her throat. "What say you—we make my brother happy and let this Welshman keep her."

This time, it was Lesslyn's turn to break into laughter. "Oh, poor man!"

Grantham pulled her close and nuzzled her hair. "Yes...poor man!"

About the Author—Deborah Macgillivray

Deborah Macgillivray has penned six award-winning novels and eighteen novellas and stories, which are translated worldwide in Russian, Japanese, German, French, Spanish and Portuguese, for Montlake Romance/Amazon Publishing, Kensington Books, Dorchester Publishing/Lovespell, and now Prairie Rose Publications. She writes Scottish Medieval Romances, Dragons of Challon? series, and Paranormal Contemporary Romances, Sisters of Colford Hall? series, and has her own anthology of cat romances, Cat O' Nine Tales . Her novel, Riding the Thunder , picked up the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence for Best Long Contemporary Romance of 2008. She currently lives in Kentucky with her husband and her beloved cats.

Look for a new Dragons of Challon? novel, Redemption , along with the re-release of A Restless Knight, RavenHawke and One Snowy Knight coming soon from Prairie Rose Publications.

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