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Several feet away, and in nearly complete darkness, Havilland came to such an abrupt halt that she tripped and fell to her knees.

Having spent the past several hours in battle, and the last several minutes in the fight for her life, she was in battle mode.

Everything she did was to preserve her life, including running away when someone challenged her attacker.

She was positive it had been another man who wanted to claim her, someone intent to steal her away, but the sound of a familiar voice had her astonished to the bone.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

“Jamison!” she gasped.

There was a good deal of grunting and punching going on in the darkness and realizing that Jamison had returned fueled Havilland with unimaginable joy.

It also fueled her with determination. He had come back, God only knew why, but that didn’t matter now.

Questions would have to wait. At the moment, she had to help him in his fight to save her. Now, she had to save him .

Havilland still had a small dagger strapped to her leg, hidden beneath her tunic, but in battling with her abductor she hadn’t been able to get a hand free to retrieve it.

Now, she had the opportunity and she fumbled with her tunic, yanking the razor-sharp knife from its sheath.

Holding the blade offensively, she rushed to Jamison as he battled with the Welshman.

But she had much the same problem as Jamison had in that it was very dark and the men were fighting very closely.

But she could see which one was Jamison, purely from his size, so when the pair swung in her direction again, she leapt onto the Welshman’s back and plunged her dagger into the man’s back, right at the base of the neck.

She did it four times before he finally fell to the ground.

As he went down, she went down with him, leaping from his back, stumbling sideways before regaining her balance. The man lay at her feet, groaning, and she kicked him for good measure.

“I hope you die a slow and painful death, you bastard,” she hissed. “I hope you pay in eternity for what you have done!”

Jamison, winded from the fight, could see that the struggle was clearly over.

He caught a glint of the dagger in Havilland’s hand and imagined she had used it quite effectively.

Her victim wasn’t moving much and he was certain the man wasn’t going to rise again.

With the immediate threat over, he took a deep breath and crouched down beside the man who was clearly dying.

“How many men have ye brought?” he asked. “Tell me what I need tae know and I’ll end yer life mercifully.”

The Welshman gazed up at Jamison, unable to move, but the hatred in his eyes was unmistakable. “You may win this fight but the war is not over,” he said haltingly. “There will be more of my kind coming. We will come until we cannot come any longer. This is not finished.”

Jamison well understood the mentality of the Welsh. It was very similar to that of the Scots in their fight for independence against the English. In that sense, his people and the Welsh people were quite similar. Therefore, he understood the mentality well.

“But ye are finished,” he said quietly. “And yer death was in vain. Four Crosses shall not fall this night, not while there is breath in me body.”

The Welshman continued to hold his gaze but the man was fading fast. “Mayhap not tonight, but there will be other nights,” he muttered. “Remember me when that night comes. Remember Morys Preece when the last Welshman drives his spear into your heart. It will be my spirit behind that spear.”

Havilland, who had been listening to the conversation, dropped to her knees beside him. “Morys?” she repeated, shocked. “Your brother is Evon. That is why you were asking for him!”

Morys couldn’t move his head but he tried to look at her. “I asked you where Evon was,” he said. “Where are you holding him? Is he inside the castle?”

Havilland lifted her eyes to Jamison, who was gazing at her in the darkness. She wasn’t sure what to say so Jamison took charge. He did it with the confidence of a man who knew he had won, who knew he had triumphed at the end of a long and hard-fought battle.

“Yer brother is dead,” he said. “I had the privilege of watching the last o’ his life drain away as I killed him, as I will have the privilege of watching the last o’ yer life drain away.

Ye canna beat me, little man, and ye canna beat the fierceness of the people at Four Crosses.

A lioness lives there and ye tried tae tame her, but she killed ye in the end.

I hope that is the last thing ye remember– ye were killed by a woman. ”

Morys’ eyes widened and his mouth worked as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t.

His body wouldn’t permit it. As Jamison and Havilland watched, the light left Morys’ eyes and drained away.

His body relaxed and the life went out of him completely.

Such was the death of a rebel, much as it had been in the death of his rebel brother.

It was over.

Havilland’s gaze lingered on Morys’ body a moment before she looked up at Jamison to see that he was staring at her.

As she looked at him, so many things came to mind to say to him, all of them rushing over each other, wanting to be heard.

There was so much emotion in her heart and in her soul, that she could hardly contain it.

“You… you came back,” she finally said.

He nodded faintly. “I did.”

“Why?”

A hint of a smile crossed his lips. “That’s a good question,” he said.

“Mayhap it was because I wanted tae convince ye tae reconsider yer decision. Mayhap it was because a foolish Scotsman found me and told me he was recruiting men tae join the Welsh in their siege against Four Crosses Castle. Mayhap I came back tae take ye as a prize in battle and then ye canna refuse me.”

Because he was smiling, she dared to smile in return. Out of that somewhat humorous explanation, she discerned something of the truth.

“You were recruited to fight with the Welsh?” she said, puzzled. “Is that really true?”

He nodded. “We were staying at an inn not far from here when a man came, looking for men tae fight in tonight’s attack,” he said. “Ye know I couldna return home knowing ye were facing danger. I had tae come back and make sure ye survived.”

It was a very touching thing to say and her emotions, struggling to come forth, finally burst the dam of her composure. She knew what she had to say. In looking at him now, she knew that she could never again be parted from him.

“I am so sorry if I was cruel to you,” she whispered huskily, the tears forming.

“I truly felt I was making the best decision for both of us but I’ve since realized that I was wrong.

It is a miserable existence I have sentenced us to be without one another.

Would I rather have you alive and without me?

I would. But I have come to the conclusion that I am very selfish, Jamison.

I do not want to be without you and I do not want you to be without me.

You just referred to me as a lioness… I am your lioness.

I will always be your lioness. And I cannot live with the thought of living my life without you.

It was horrible for me to try and convince you that was for the best and I pray that you can forgive me. ”

He watched her, struggling with her regrets, and his heart, so broken by their separation, now swelled with joy. He was hoping he hadn’t dreamed her words because if he had, it would surely kill him.

“I forgive ye,” he murmured. “But what do ye want? Ye know I must return home, Havi. Will ye come with me as me wife or did ye simply say those words tae satisfy yer guilt at having said them?”

She wiped the tears away that were falling. “De Lohr will be here soon,” she whispered. “He will take over the castle. I am no longer needed here. But you need me. You need me to fight off those damnable MacKenzies. I will kill every one of them, I swear it.”

He grinned, so very touched by her words. “Ever the lioness, aren’t ye?”

“If you are The Red Lion, then being your lioness is my destiny.”

Those words filled him more than he ever thought they would.

His lioness . Now, he felt whole. He felt complete.

He’d never known that words, simple things, could make such a difference in his life and how he looked at it.

A dreaded return home would be a triumphant return home now.

With Havilland’s love and support, he was the strongest man who had ever lived.

He was invincible.

“I love ye, lass,” he said with more feeling than he’d ever shown. “More than all the stars in the heavens, I love ye.”

“Still?”

“I never stopped.”

Havilland’s smile grew, knowing now that all was well between them. Her decision hadn’t cost them anything but longing and a little time. The love they had for one another, the devotion, was still there. It was stronger than ever. He would have never come back to Four Crosses has it been otherwise.

“Then we shall face life together,” she said, her eyes glimmering at him in the weak light. “Your father’s anger, the MacKenzie’s vengeance, and everything else life brings us. There will be nothing so great that we cannot surmount it together.”

He loved her confidence, her strength. He reached out, touching that sweet, dirty face that he loved so well. “With ye by me side, I can face anything at all.”

She kissed his hand as it came near her lips. “As can I.”

He stood up, pulling her away from Morys’ corpse and into his arms. What he had to say, he would say without a dead body between them.

“Then we look tae the future with hope,” he said, holding her as close as he could with all of the layers of tunics and mail in between them.

“And any decisions we make, we make together. I’ll not let ye make another decision again for me, even if ye feel it’s the best one for us both. I’ll have a say in it, too.”

She grinned, lifting her mouth up to his for a sweet kiss. “Aye, my lord.”

He closed his eyes, responding to her gentle kisses. “Say it again.”

Her arms went around his neck, her forehead against his. “Aye, my lord.”

“Nay,” he breathed. “Not that. Tell me ye’re me lioness.”

“I am your lioness. To the end of the world and beyond.”

For the warrior known as The Red Lion, they were the sweetest words he’d ever heard.