Henry pulled away just enough to see my face. “Will you come with me?”
Only a fool would let him sail to England alone, back into reach of a princess. And I was no fool. Amelia might be the daughter of a king, but I was the direct descendent of the high goddess Brigid. Henry was mine, even if it meant standing up to every peer in England to keep him.
“Yes, I’ll go,” I said, the words tumbling out in a mix of laughter and tears.
His arms tightened around me, and I leaned into him, overjoyed by this sudden turn of events. Whatever lay before us, I no longer dreaded the morrow.