He felt the pull and tug of her sawing at the rope, then his head fell free. Then his hands.
"I killed him," she whispered into his chest as he wrapped her tight against him.
"Thank God, Alex. Thank God. Are you hurt?"
"I killed him," she repeated and her head came up, eyes on his. "I didn't want—"
"Don't ever say it. Never. I know. I know. Tha gaol agam ort, caitein. My God, I love you."
His legs gave way, and he carried her to the ground with him.
Epilogue
The bride blushed like a virgin, pink face clashing horribly with her beautiful red hair.
"I can't believe I'm married," Jeannie whispered to Alex just before her husband took her hand and led her down the aisle to the church door. The guests began to crowd the aisle, fighting to get outside and pile into waiting carriages for the drive to Kirkland Hall. Jeannie's father had relented after all, though not easily. The groom had worn a black eye to the ceremony.
Alex felt her fingers pulled into a strong hand and beamed up at her husband. She softened with such love that she nearly melted. Instead of falling upon him like the starving wanton she was, she settled for brushing a hand over his brow where a jagged cut was healing.
What a ragtag wedding party they were. Fergus with his black eye, Collin with the head wound, and Alex herself, with the ugly yellow shadow of a fading bruise spread out over her cheek. Only Jeannie had looked pristine, glowing in a pale gold gown. She'd been lovely.
Alex felt the stares of dozens of eyes on her and Collin. She could hear the muted roar of their whispers. Everyone knew what had happened, or thought they did. A man had been killed, after all. Authorities had been dispatched to Westmore to clear up the question of murder.
But their avid eyes did not bother her in the least. She beamed and walked down the aisle at Collin's side and even he smiled, a satisfied curve of his lip that would wag tongues for weeks, she didn't doubt. The unhappy couple had suddenly bloomed into newlyweds. Alex laughed into the bright cold sunlight as they stepped from the church.
"Do you think anyone would notice if we took a short drive 'round the country? For the air, of course."
Alex rolled her eyes. "Since we are second only to the bridal couple in interest. .. Yes. Yes, they would notice."
"Would you care?"
"We'd better not." She couldn't keep the mourning from her voice. "I shouldn't like to take away from Jeannie's day."
"But I missed you last night."
"Poor husband," she sighed. He had not understood in the least why Jeannie had wanted Alex to stay in her bedchamber with her.
"She is not a virgin!" he'd cried the night before. "She's not lying there in fear of the marriage bed."
Alex had mumbled something about feminine apprehensions and natural modesty, then she had rushed to Jeannie's room to giggle and gasp and compare illicit experiences. Both men had emerged with high marks.
She did not mention this to Collin as he handed her into the carriage. "Just a few more hours, Collin, and we'll be home. I promise to make you forget about your lonely night."
"I'll hold you to it," he growled, but still could not banish his smile. He was so different now that she wanted to cry out her happiness to the world.
The only regret that tainted her happiness was her lack of guilt at Damien's death. Perhaps she was unnatural indeed, to feel nothing more than thank-fulness that they were both alive and well. Jeannie had scoffed at the idea and the Kirkland brothers had patted her back. Fergus had done nothing more than pull her into a long, tight hug.
And Alex knew that Westmore was finally her home.
"By the way, husband . . ."
"Yes?"
"Jeannie asked me to pass along a message to you." He raised a brow.
"She says that you must stop blushing when you speak to her and that you may consider it payback for the time she spied on you at the River Tweed."
His face paled a bit, his quirk of a smile faded.