EPILOGUE

Gage held the thick, heavy caber with two hands and estimated the distance and velocity he had to throw the thing to beat both Marsden and Lushing as well as the strapping village lads and lasses he'd grown up with. The performance pressure was intense.

Across the sea of red tartans, bagpipes, and competitors, his radiant new duchess was watching from her nearby perch, eyes as blue as a winter loch in the Scottish sunshine. He liked seeing her in his clan colors. They had chosen to forgo the fanfare of a large London wedding and had gotten married over the anvil in Gretna Green instead. It had suited them quite well.

The wedding celebrations, however, at his mother's great hall involved the entire local community, which was another matter altogether. It encompassed four days of feasting, singing, dancing, and friendly competition, including a traditional caber toss. And after all his boasting to his new bride of his prowess, he knew he had to make good on his claims. That, or be ridiculed forever. His wicked little wife would not let him off the hook so easily.

He winked at her where she stood, and she waved, touching a finger to the intricate heart-and-crown-shaped brooch pinned to her bodice. Earlier that morning, he'd pinned it to the edge of her gown and pressed a kiss to the mouthwatering swell of her breast over it. That had led to his tongue doing other naughty things and exploring other parts of her too-delicious body. Said brooch and gown had ended up in a frantic heap on the floor.

"It's a Scottish tradition dating back centuries, a token of my affection and love," he'd whispered when they were both lying in a sweaty, satiated heap. "A luckenbooth. It's a lucky charm to keep you safe from fairies."

Her eyes had widened with delight. "Fairies?"

"They're all over the Scottish dells, waiting to snatch unsuspecting maidens away for their beauty."

Evangeline had laughed and wrapped her long legs around him. "Lucky for me, I was stolen by the king of the fair folk himself. They wouldn't dare snatch me."

"Or perhaps," he'd countered, " you are Titania incarnate, and I am but a poor smitten soul groveling at your queenly feet."

"Groveling," she'd replied with a lengthy kiss. "Let's have more of that."

He'd groveled so much the night before that she was a sobbing, writhing mess of need, and had slept for nearly a full day following. Male pride sluiced through him. Let it not be said that the Duke of Vale didn't commit to a project with every drop of strength he possessed. In bed and out of it.

Like said caber toss.

A commotion through the participants made him frown as his new duchess sauntered toward him, an impish grin on her face. Everyone cheered raucously when she lifted to her toes and pressed a demure kiss to his stubbled cheek. Her words weren't demure, however. "Win and I'll take you with my mouth later."

He about swallowed his tongue. Now he had to contend with two cabers.

Surely he was the default winner by that alone! Nobody else had to throw a hundred-pound log with an iron bar in their trews.

Muttering to himself, Gage lifted and cupped the whittled end of the twenty-foot sapling in both hands, grunting at the substantial weight, and braced the lower half against his shoulder. It wasn't about actual distance, though prowess was important, it was about the log going end over end and landing in a perfect twelve o'clock position directly opposite him.

He didn't dare look at his wife, but as always, his will failed him. Her tongue pressed into her cheek in a lewd gesture as she held a fist up to her mouth, and he bellowed a pained groan. Cursing his luck, he ran forward a few steps and tossed the log, air punching from him as it completed a full revolution, the thicker end hitting the dirt and then flipping forward to thwack the ground with a loud snap.

It was nowhere near twelve o'clock.

Later that night, his sweet, wicked wife rewarded him anyway.

A few days later following the end of the feast and after most of the guests had departed, Evangeline glanced at the letters that had been delivered and forgotten among all of the wedding correspondence. One was from Vesper, who she was delighted to see had written about her new baby girl. She and Greydon had not been able to attend the festivities because of a challenging birth, but their daughter was a warrior just like her mother and was now thriving.

Briar, too, had not been able to attend, much to Lushing's dismay, though the earl had stalwartly pretended otherwise. Apparently, she'd been detained by the Metropolitan Police for disturbing the peace at Lethe of all places, and her father had forbidden her to leave London. That reminded Evangeline about how familiar she'd been with the social club the night of the fight.

She peered at her husband. "Do you know if Briar is a member at Lethe?"

"I'm not sure. Why do you ask?" Gage replied, looking up from his seat across the thick oak breakfast table.

"She knew where all the rooms were, and the maid seemed especially polite. Minthe, I believe her name was," Evangeline said frowning. "But Briar has never mentioned it. And now Vesper said that she ran into some trouble there."

"People can have secrets, love," Gage said, lifting his brows, considering they'd had a rather large one of their own. He slathered butter on some toast and handed it to her. "And besides, isn't she always protesting women's rights and getting into scrapes with unsavory types? Perhaps she knows the women who work there."

Evangeline nodded absently and bit into the toast. "Maybe."

But it didn't seem like that. She chewed, recalling that night. Evangeline had been more concerned with Gage's injuries then, but now she recalled other details, like the fact that Briar had known exactly where to go once the police arrived. And not main hallways either. She'd taken special corridors and a staircase, one that had led to a well-appointed office where they had remained until Minthe had fetched them. Briar had walked those halls with the confidence of a woman who belonged there, not one who was a member.

It was decidedly odd.

As Evangeline continued to read the letter, a hand flew to her chest, her mouth falling open into silent shock as she skimmed the paragraph, making her forget Briar for a moment. "Oh," she exclaimed.

"What's the matter?" Gage asked.

"Vesper writes that Huntington has been arrested for stealing," she said, scanning the lines. "He crossed the wrong man at the tables at a gambling hell, and now he's in jail, awaiting sentencing."

"Good riddance," Gage said. "Despite wanting to take the high road and being compassionate, I must admit that I regretted being too lenient with that bastard."

Evangeline agreed. The cad had killed Gage's brother, after all, and he'd been unforgivably violent to her own sister. It didn't seem fair that he'd escaped with no real punishment for his dreadful actions, but clearly, he was paying for them now.

As she continued to read, sorrow replaced her shock. "Oh no. There's more news. Vesper's daughter is doing well, but she has written that her father has taken a turn for the worse. I'd heard he was ill, but didn't realize it was so bad. Gracious, she must be so devastated."

Gage nodded. "Lushing mentioned that he'd been quietly sick for years. A wasting illness of the lungs, he told me."

"Doesn't make it any easier, knowing it's coming, and right after her child's birth, too." A tear slipped down her cheek. Evangeline couldn't begin to imagine how bleak both Vesper and Jasper were feeling. She loved her own father dearly and couldn't fathom life without him.

"Come here, mo ghràdh," her husband commanded gently.

Evangeline lifted from her seat and walked around the table, crawling into the welcoming haven of his lap. He kissed her brow and held her tight. Taking comfort in his warm embrace, she twirled the gorgeous ruby and diamond ring with intricate thistle engravings on her hand, a gift from her mother-in-law.

"It will be all right," he told her, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles.

She breathed out. "Lushing will need all the friends he can get, too. He's never been able to deal with painful things, and Vesper has confided many times that he doesn't wish to become the next Duke of Harwick." A small sigh left her. "As much as I've loved being here, we should head back to England soon. I want to be there for Vesper and Baby Audra."

"I agree."

Evangeline glanced up at him, at his strong, handsome face, those green eyes as always aglow with love. "You don't want to stay longer? I can go alone, if necessary."

"I love the Highlands, Evangeline. I always will, but our home is in England. Your shelter work is there, and all our friends are there. Mother can visit when she wants, and we are also free to come back whenever we like."

She stared at him. "Travel is long and costly." She didn't know why she was pushing the matter. Perhaps she hoped to be reassured that she wasn't keeping him from doing what he'd always planned to do—return to his home. If he wanted to remain here, she would never want to deny him. Family was important to both of them.

He scooped her up and turned her so she was facing him. "Good thing I am married to a very rich heiress who is infatuated with me and quite devoted to making me happy."

Making a scoffing noise, though she didn't deny it in the least, Evangeline melted against him happily, breathing in his delicious scent. "But your mother is getting older. We cannot expect her to make the journey so often."

"My mother is an indestructible battle-ax of a woman who will ride a stallion over Hadrian's Wall if she had to," he said with a chuckle. "And when we start having bairns, trust me, nothing will stop her from coming to smother them in a tartan or two."

Chest clenching at the thought of his babies, Evangeline drew a finger over his bronze-stubbled skin. Her breath faltered. It was his right as a husband and her duty as a wife. As duke, Gage would require an heir, but she wanted to work first. Make sure she expanded her shelter and followed those dreams before she was shut away behind closed doors like half the women of the ton. "Do you want children immediately?"

His big hands traced over her spine, making her shiver when they rounded the curves of her hips. "Well, I suppose I do someday, when the time comes, but for now, these exhaustive experiments of yours are keeping me rather busy."

"Complaints, Your Grace?"

He smirked. "Never."

Evangeline couldn't help but feel relief. She wanted to be a mother, but later. Her expression must have been transparent, because he grasped her chin and cradled her cheeks in his palms. "We're in this together, leannan. Every decision we make, about children or our lives or where we live, we do together."

"How did I get so lucky?" she whispered. His green eyes shone with so much love that her heart felt absurdly full.

"No, mo ghràdh . I'm the lucky one because I get to love you." Gage took her lips then, in an unhurried, slow kiss as though she was something precious to be savored. "Every day until forever."