“I am Catriona,” she corrected.
“Nay, ye shall always be my Catie. A letter makes no difference. And dinnae distract me. Can ye no’ see I am trying to tell ye something?”
Catriona giggled and reached up to trace her fingers over his serious brow. “Ye dinnae need to tell me anything.”
“I do. I vow never to hide things from ye again. Ye are beautiful and kind and patient and, in truth, ye probably deserve better than me but I am a selfish man and I need ye, wee lass. I need ye very badly. I have been too scared to love anyone since Alice but, Lord help me, I love ye.” His lips twisted. “And ye know a highlander willnae admit to being scared easily.”
Catriona put a finger to his lips as he had done to her. “Shhh, my highland warrior. Ye need not confess as much for I know. I love ye too. I could find no better man.”
Finn reached for her finger and used it to tug her into him. She ended up flattened upon him as he fell back against the bed. Catriona settled over him, warmth budding through her chest. He loved her. While she might have lost so much, she had gained more than she’d ever had before. Love.
“Ye will marry me then, lass?”
“Aye.”
“Thank the Lord. I shall have ye taunting me in my dreams no longer.”
She leaned over him, her hair skimming his face. “Nay, I shall taunt ye in life instead.”
Finn grinned—that heart-shattering grin she’d come to expect from him—but true delight lit his eyes. “And I shall enjoy every moment.”
Catriona rocked against him. “Shall we begin enjoying now?”
“Aye.” He grasped her face and pulled her down to him. “Aye, I think we shall.”
***
Tèile grinned at the sight and fluttered out of the window. The air felt clean, renewed. Fate was back in alignment. She paused and eyed the embracing couple. Yet something was still amiss. She could not have anticipated the battle at Kilcree or Logan’s death but it must have been fate or she’d have known otherwise.
She flew around the square castle and paused to peer in the window. The fair haired woman sat on her bed, chin on her knees. Tèile had a decision to make, she suspected. She could return home, the glorious victor. Not one, but two matches successfully made. Or she could stay and find out why things had gone so wrong for Lorna.
A hand touched her arm and she glanced up.
“Come, Tèile,” the purple faery said, “’tis time to return home. Ye have done well.”
Tèile took a last look at Lorna and scowled before following the faery. Something was not right and she could not revel in her achievements. But a word with the sidhe council was needed first. For once, they would take her seriously.
Aye, she was now a great matchmaker. She smiled. All would talk of her accomplishments. And if anyone could bring Lorna a happy ending, it was she, the Green Faery.