A knot of emotion lodged in her throat. “How?”
He shook his head. “I was in a world of light for a long time, and then a girl led me back here. She said ye were waiting for me.”
Evina’s pulse tripped. “A girl?”
“Aye.” He blinked up at the tree. “A golden-haired child named Sorcha.”
And the tears were back, rolling hot and quiet down her cheeks. Sorcha, so young and considerate, who had her own curse to face upon her release into the world. She had sacrificed something to save what Evina wanted most. And Evina had no way to repay her. No way to thank her small sister for whatever great burden she’d assumed.
“I thought I’d lost ye,” Evina whispered.
“As I thought I’d lost ye.” He cupped her face in his hands, holding her as one might hold something both fragile and cherished.
Their eyes met and held, conveying everything in a moment that words could never say in a lifetime. Their yearning, their devotion, and their love.
The sunlight overhead shimmered and blazed. Its intensifying heat and light bathed them until Evina’s body went hot, as though she might ignite. Heart racing with this new, unseen danger, she grabbed Duncan’s léine and pulled him upright. Together they staggered to the side door of the castle and blindly pushed through.
Gillespie waited on the other side with his arms crossed and a single impertinent brow raised on his high forehead. “Well,” he huffed, “it’s about damn time.”
DUNCAN WAS ALIVE, remaining in his castle with the same furnishings and tapestries in the same places with Gillespie staring at him with a smirk on his face. And Evina…
Duncan let his gaze slide to the woman he loved. She still wore the long white dress, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were red-rimmed and the tip of her nose had gone pink. As if she’d been crying.
For him.
“Ye wouldna have lasted much longer.” Gillespie winced against the brilliant light streaming in from the window. He shaded his hand over his eyes before drawing closed the curtain. “The curse is dying.”
Evina’s hand lingered on Duncan’s chest from where she’d helped him run from the excruciating light outside. He put his hand over her fingers to keep her sweet touch from slipping away.
“I was dead,” he said.
Gillespie thrust his chin out and nodded. “Och, aye. Ye were. But I was able to tap into the enchantment of the rowan tree to preserve a scant edge of yer life. I’d hoped it’d be long enough.” He smiled at Evina. “And it was. Although only just.”
His expression turned sheepish. “I cast a spell to make a light flash outside, one that looked like what took Evina to Morrigan’s home. Forgive the deception, my laird. It was the only thing I could think to do to get ye there when the time came.”
Duncan chuckled. “Aye, ye were right. And there’s no’ anything to forgive. I’m alive because of ye.”
“I might have done more if I could have entered the ring around the rowan tree, but after the tree lost its last leaf, doing so was impossible.” Gillespie furrowed his brows. “I believe Evina was able to enter because of how she arrived at the location, tethered between two magical realms.”
A sadness crossed Evina’s face. “It wasna completely me. A sister of mine, one who might have a great cost in life because of her bravery in saving Duncan.”
Gillespie nodded, his face grave. “Then I shall pray for her.”
“Sorcha,” Duncan said. “Her name is Sorcha.”
He didn’t like the sadness on Evina’s face, or the burden on her heart. He too would pray for Sorcha to overcome her sacrifice, for the small blonde child who gave him a gift he could never repay.
“Did ye meet Morrigan?” Duncan asked. “Did ye find out who ye were?”
Evina shook her head. “I dinna have time. I was nearly there, but that’s when I figured everything out. I couldna meet with her.” Her eyes went glassy with unshed tears. “No’ when I realized what I would have to lose.”
Understanding punched into Duncan’s stomach. She had given up what she’d sought her entire life. For him.
Gillespie bowed low and backed away, quietly dismissing himself.
Duncan waited until his servant left before speaking. “Evina, ye dinna find out yer past?”
She put her fingertips to his mouth. “I couldna lose ye. What I would have learned, it would have been my past. But ye - ye’re my future.” She drew in a shaky breath and a tear slipped down her face. “I love ye, Duncan Maclean.”
Future. The word stuck in his throat, lodged behind a stubborn knot set within. He had never used the word, for to him it had been filled with the emptiness of despair.
“Ye gave up too much for me,” he said in a tight voice.
“Ye were willing to give up more for me,” Evina reminded him gently.
He pulled her toward him, catching her slender waist in his arms. Her long, lean body stretched out against his and his heart swelled with love and longing. He breathed in deep the delicate feminine scent of her. “I love ye, Evina. Ye’ve given me life in more ways than just saving me from death.”
She smiled up at him and a sparkle shone in her gray eyes. God, she was beautiful.
He released one arm’s hold on her to capture her face in his hand. “Be my wife, Evina. Be my future.”
“I canna think of anything that would make me happier.” He captured her lips with his, sealing the fate of both their futures with love.
EPILOGUE
June 1383
Duart Castle, Scotland
THE CHILD WAS everything Evina had never let herself hope to want. A beautiful girl of two with a head of dark hair and a happy, ready smile. A daughter named Phoebe. Part of their happy family they intended to grow even further after five years of traveling the world together.
Evina sat in the bench beneath the old rowan tree. Though
