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“I’m a bastard. And a berserker. I’ve killed so many people. You have no idea.”

Piper put two fingers over Galen’s lips. “I’ve died a hundred times. I spend my life with corpses. I’m not afraid of you.”

Galen’s tongue flicked out across Piper’s fingertips and Piper inhaled sharply. There was a wicked gleam in the paladin’s eyes now, for all his solemnity.

“It may not work,” Piper said, determined to say his piece before Galen succeeded in distracting him. “In a month we may be sick of each other. You might decide that I’m horribly annoying and I might decide that you’re far too noxiously noble—”

“Ha!”

“—hush. You are relentlessly noble, even if you try to hide it. But we won’t know unless we try. And I’m willing if you are.”

Galen’s breath was warm against his fingers. “Even if you never get to sleep next to me?”

Piper surveyed the room, lingering on the disaster that had been the sheets. Tomorrow, he would apologize to both the washerwoman and the neighbors. “If there was only one thing that we could do together in bed, I have to say, I would not choose sleeping.”

The paladin laughed and wrapped his arms around Piper’s shoulders, and what they did for the next hour had nothing to do with sleeping.

Epilogue

Six Months Later

* * *

It had been a dry summer and a drier autumn. The horses kicked up dust and the coaches traveled in a pale cloud. Dust got into Piper’s eyes and mouth and stuck to his clothes and he hated it, but he did not complain.

The three paladins in the coach were as silent as the grave. Even Galen had said nothing for the last ten miles. Shane and Wren might as well have been carved in stone, and Wren, at least, was usually as chatty as her namesake.

If you knew how to look—and Piper had learned quickly—you could see the signs of strain. Shane’s forehead had beaded up with sweat. Wren’s lips were set and white. Galen’s fingers were laced with Piper’s and he had been rubbing his thumb mechanically over Piper’s wedding ring. Piper had taken his gloves off in the heat and was beginning to think he should put them back on, if only so that Galen didn’t wear the engraving off.

Piper had been stunned when Galen went to one knee, in the finest romantic tradition, and begged for his hand in marriage. Moreso because he’d been holding a bonesaw at the time and there was a body open on the slab in front of him. “I…I…Galen, really? Are you sure?”

“It’s been five months,” Galen had said, looking up at him. “And I have come close to ruining it at least three times because I’m an absolute idiot. I expect I’ll probably come close again. If we’re married, at least I’ll have a chance to throw myself at your feet and apologize before you tell me to die in a fire.”

“That’s a terrible reason to get married,” Piper had said.

“How about that I don’t deserve you and I don’t deserve to be as happy as you make me, but I’m just enough of a bastard to try to grab onto something I don’t deserve?”

Piper had gulped and dropped the bonesaw. Kaylin had come down the stairs and was in the doorway, grinning. She had nudged Galen with her crutch. “Tell him you love him, you redheaded numbskull.”

“Did I not say that bit yet? Piper, I love you. I love you more than I love life. A lot more, actually. Would you like me to die for you? That might be easier than living with me, honestly.”

“No dying.”

“You don’t actually have to live with me. I thought we could maybe get a larger place with separate bedrooms, but I’m flexible. I know I’m hard to live with.”

“Your cooking is terrible,” said Piper around the lump in his throat.

“There, you see? And I have never learned not to drop my clothes on the floor. I know. I’m dreadful. Please marry me anyway. I love you. Did I mention that?”

“Mention it again,” Kaylin suggested.

“I love you, Piper. I want to have the right to worry about whether you’re eating enough and to tell you that you’re working too hard and to fuck you all night—”

Kaylin cleared her throat.

“—and I know that I’m a lot to deal with but I can’t get enough of you. Please marry me, Piper.”

“Yes.”