Saffy chuckled and shook her head. “I almost was. Remind me to tell ye about Andrew and my stay in the dungeon. But aye, I’m happy. I love Merrick, and he loves me.”
Citrine’s firebrand eyes searched her face, as if not quite believing, before she nodded. “I’m glad. I’ll miss ye, of course, but I’m glad ye’ve found happiness, sister.”
“Ye will, too, I ken it. One day—”
“Nay,” Citrine interrupted, “I’ll no’ leave Da.” Before Saffy could object, her twin released her and made an impatient gesture. “But enough about me. Do ye have it?”
There could only be one it.
Saffy reached for the pouch she wore on her belt. After so long in breeches, it still felt a little confining to wear skirts. But Merrick had introduced her to all sorts of unexpected benefits to the easy access skirts provided.
Slightly flushed from the memories, Saffy pulled out the leather pouch and placed it in her sister’s palm.
Citrine whistled in appreciation as she slid the huge sapphire from its hiding spot. “Ye found it,” she whispered reverently. “This is the second jewel, Saffy.” When she met her sister’s eyes, Citrine’s were bright with excitement. “There should only be two left, aye?”
“Aye. But mayhap if Da kenned we’d found two already…”
Citrine frowned as she tucked the stone away once more and crossed to the small chest she kept under the big bed. “I donae ken, Saffy. He’s so weak…”
“Mayhap he believes the legend. Did ye ever consider that? If he believes the clan is doomed, mayhap he’s already despairing, which is why he tried so hard to get us all married?”
Citrine snorted as she placed the sapphire beside the agate that already resided in the chest, hidden below the ancient tapestry which had started them all down this path.
“He’ll no’ marry me off so easily,” she muttered, closing the lid.
“Mayhap he doesnae need to,” Saffy teased. “Da seems quite happy with the matches me and Pearl and Agata have made ourselves.”
“And ye think I’m likely to find myself a husband?”
Saffy smiled at her twin. “I think ye’re likely to do anything ye can to prove ye cannae be controlled.”
Citrine burst into laughter as she pushed herself up from where she’d been squatting and kicked the chest back under the bed. “Ye may be right, sister!”
“I’ll tell ye the rest, I promise, but I want to see wee Pearl.”
“Aye, and she’ll have my skin if I didnae drag ye out to their little cottage right away. We were right, by the by—she is increasing.”
Saffy joined her sister in laughter as they moved toward the door. “That news likely helped Da’s mood improve, aye?”
“Aye! Ye two will get to race for who births the first grand-bairn first.”
“And Agata?”
Citrine took her arm even as she shrugged. “She’s no’ mentioned anything in her letters, aside from how well wee Callan is adjusting. I’m glad she writes so often.”
Saffy had just opened her mouth to ask another question about their older sister, when Merrick stepped in the door.
The look in his eyes—part need, part hesitation—made her stop in her tracks.
Citrine looked between the two of them. “I cannae tell if yer meeting with Da and the Hound went well, but I’ll assume I’ll learn at dinner.”
With a sigh, she wrapped Saffy in a quick hug. “I’ll pop out to visit with Pearl and invite her to the keep for the meal. Ye’ll promise to make time for me later?”
Saffy wanted to protest, for she’d only just arrived, and would spend all the time with her twin as possible. But she’d learned lately that when Merrick looked at her that way, she wasn’t able to concentrate on aught else.
“Aye…” she agreed, her gaze on her future husband. She barely heard her sister snort and slip out of their chambers.
When they were alone, Merrick pushed the door closed, without ever taking his eyes off hers.
“Devil?” she asked hesitantly, crossing to him.
Quick as lightning, he reached out and snatched her against him, his hand going to the back of her head. “He’s a good man, Saf.”
“Da?”
“The Hound. Gregor. I’m…” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I should no’ have done what I did to him,” he admitted, dropping his forehead to hers.
“’Twas more than a decade ago, Merrick,” her murmured, her hand snaking around him to rub his back in comfort. “Ye have changed since then.”
When he exhaled, his breath mixed with hers. “I’ve changed even more since ye came into my life, my wee jewel.”
“For the better, I hope?” she teased.
When he flexed his hips, she felt his erection beneath his kilt, and the knowledge sent a spike of warmth through her.
“Ye tell me,” he growled, his eyes flashing open once more.
She swallowed, arousal pooling in the center of her being. “Much better,” she managed past a dry throat.
And when she ground her hips against his, the noise he made was part moan, part laugh.
She squealed when he scooped her into his arms and crossed toward the bed. “What are ye doing, Devil?”
“I’m an auld man, Saf. I need to be lying down when I let my wife have her way with me. None of this fucking against doors the way the young ones do it.”
She laughed as he tossed her onto the bed, and she hurried to pull her gown up around her waist. He was already reaching under his kilt, and her body hummed in anticipation.
But as he lowered himself onto her, she stopped him with a raised finger.
“What?” he growled.
“Just this once, my love. Then ye must rest up, for I need ye to be in top form.”
“For dinner?”
“Nay,” she replied with an impish smile. “We’ve been given the largest guest chambers, and I want to test the door’s—and yer own—strength!”
The sparkle in his striking eyes told her he understood her teasing. Still, his frown was fierce as he leaned in close to her. “Ye think I need to rest up before I can pleasure the woman I love?”
“I think ye have a lifetime to prove it, my Devil!”
The Sinclair Jewels Series
Book 1 – The Sinclair Hound
Book 2 – The Mackenzie Regent
Book 3 – The Sutherland Devil
Book 4 – The MacLeod Pirate
Author’s Note
On Historical Accuracy
We’ve already had the discussion about how 13th-century Scotsmen didn’t wear kilts. We decided we didn’t care, and were willing to go along—suspension of disbelief and all that—because of the gorgeous model on the cover, right?
So, let’s suspend our disbelief a bit more. Just as clan tartans didn’t become a thing until much later, we can assume clan mottos and crests weren’t exactly codified by the 13th Century. But of course Merrick and his warriors need a battle cry, so I went with the modern, accepted motto of Clan Sutherland: Without Fear.
As for the MacLeod crest, that’s a little harder; in the time this story takes place, the MacLeods of Lewes were still a brand-new clan. That will definitely come into the next and final episode in the Sinclair Jewels series, The MacLeod Pirate. But in the meantime, we’ll just have to pretend the Lewes MacLeods already had their crest in place, and it was well-known enough for Merrick to recognize it when he found it carved on the wall to his dungeon.
How exactly did it get there? And who hid the large sapphire behind it? Will the rest of the jewels be recovered in time, or will Laird Sinclair continue to decline?
Pick up Citrine’s story—The MacLeod Pirate—to find out!
And seeing as how I completely and utterly fell in love with the chaos at the Sutherland holding, you can darn well bet we’ll be re-visiting. Maybe not in the Sinclair Jewels series, but I think Gavin, Elana, and all of Merrick’s adorable bairns deserve their own happily ever afters, don’t you?
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And as always, happy reading!
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Caroline Lee has been reading romance for so long that her fourth-grade teacher used to make her cover her books with paper jackets. But it wasn’t until she (mostly) grew up that she realized she could WRITE it too. So she did.
Caroline is living her own little Happily Ever After in NC with her husband, sons, and brand-new daughter, Princess Wiggles. And while she doesn’t so much “suffer” from Pittakionophobia as think all you people who enjoy touching Band-Aids and stickers are the real weirdos, she does adore rodents, and never met a wine she didn’t like. Caroline was named Time Magazine’s Person of the Year in 2006 (along with the rest of you) and is really quite funny in person. Promise.
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