“She daesnae even ken I’m here.”
“Daesnae she?” Freyr’s voice held a note of amusement. “That wee slip of a thing is sharper than any blade in yer armory, Ragnar.”
The silhouette moved, her hand dropping from the window. As she stepped away, Ragnar felt the loss of it like a physical ache.
Soon she’ll be me wife,and anyone who threatens her will learn what it means tae face the wrath of the Stag.
“We’ll keep her safe. All of us.”
Ragnar nodded, his mind reeling. The following day, they would become one, bind themselves to one another in matrimony. Somewhere between the attack on the road and this very moment, Isolda MacGregor had stopped being a political necessity and she’d morphed into something else—the one thing that could break him.
And somewhere in the surrounding darkness, Douglas Graham watched from the shadows, and he knew it too.