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“In me own way.”

Freya let out a soft laugh. “I’m sure Jack found it as awkward as ye did.”

“Trust me, wife, he did.”

She let out another laugh. “Did he say anything back?”

Evander chuckled. “He told me I was welcome. Shouted it across the whole yard so every man there could hear.”

“Good, ye deserved that.”

“I deserved worse,” he muttered.

“Aye, ye did, but ye said sorry to Jack of all people, Evander. That cannae have been easy.”

He sighed. “It was the hardest thing I’ve done all week.”

“Harder than the boot I threw at yer head this mornin’?”

He smirked. “I saw it coming.”

“Ahh, so ye chose to let it nearly hit ye?”

“Exactly, wife.”

Before Freya could retort, he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.

He loved this woman. Loved her more than anything.

Once, not that long ago, Evander had feared his feelings, but no longer. Now he had a wife, children, and a family despite it all. He would protect their home, and they would protect his heart.

And amidst it all, he’d finally be happy. All thanks to the hellion in front of him.

Well, maybe he should thank her again. And he knew exactly how.

EPILOGUE

FOUR YEARS LATER

The Wolf of the Highlands was losing.

He lay flat on his back on the study floor with a boy sitting on his chest and a girl sitting on his legs, both of them armed with wooden swords Jack had carved for their fourth birthday.

Ledgers had been knocked from the desk. The ink pot had been rescued, but only just. Somewhere in the scuffle, he’d lost a boot.

It was quite a sight to see.

“Yield!” Archer bellowed, brandishing his sword an inch from Evander’s nose. He’d grown tall and wiry, all elbows and knees, with his father’s easy smile and a voice that could rattle the windows. “Yield, Da, or I’ll throw the lantern at ye!”

Evander blinked. “Where did ye hear that?”

“Ma told us. From the inn.”

“Did she now?”

So his wife had been telling tales.

For four years she’d insisted she didn’t remembered everything that had happened that night because of the whisky. For four years she’d sworn most things were a blur. And yet she’d passed his exact words down to the bairns like a favorite bedtime story.