Duncan woke early, the pain in his shoulder nothing but a bad memory. The whole trip to London seemed nothing but a bad memory, save for one thing, and that one thing was Cate. He'd proposed to her finally. He'd even gotten down on one knee, and she'd accepted, but it had taken almost losing her to drive him to do it.

Duncan rolled to his side and watched her as she slept, so beautiful and so peaceful. The events of the last few days had taken a toll on them both. It seemed so unreal to him now, like a bad dream. Like the way his head felt after he'd had too much to drink, unable to remember where he'd been or what he'd done. Gods, he thought, as he looked at her. He couldn't do that anymore. He loved her. He owed it to her to straighten himself out. He just wished he knew how.

The instinct to protect her was strong. Even now, his blood burned with rage at the thought of what Mad Jack had done to her, and even worse, what he might have done to her, if Duncan hadn't been there to stop him. Gods help the man, if he ever found him. He'd make what Mad Jack had done to his victims look like child's play.

Duncan breathed a soft sigh and reached over to brush a fingertip gently against her soft, porcelain cheek. Her face would surely have scarred, if not for Kirin's help -- a permanent reminder of the horrors of that night, a night they'd both rather forget. He pushed a stray lock of chestnut from her face, his hand lingering for a moment to savor the soft texture of her hair in his fingertips.

He had to admit she was a temptation he had a hard time denying himself. He'd come close to losing himself to passion and desire, at least once. He wanted her, that much was certain, but not before she was ready. Not before she was truly his. Still, if she kept insisting he sleep with her, it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened. He was only a man, after all. He wouldn't be able to hold himself back forever.

Duncan rolled to his back with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling of Kirin's guest room. He smiled a little to himself as he remembered Kirin's greeting. "I can hear you clear to Whitechapel, Mallory." He could always count on Kirin to make him smile, even when no one else could.

Gran, they'd called her. How old was she really? He had no idea. Older than anyone suspected, he reckoned. He had railed against them both, but had lost in the end. Too proud and too stubborn to ask for their help. Her touch had been soft and soothing, her skill undeniable. He'd no idea she had such abilities. He wondered what else about her he didn't know.

Still, there were some wounds that even a fae couldn't heal. Wounds of the heart. Wounds that ran deeper than those of mere flesh and blood. Duncan's shoulder was as good as new, and Cate's cheek showed no remnant of a scar, but he knew that they both bore deeper scars, the kind that didn't show on the surface.

They weren't all that different really, not as different as one might think. What would life be like with someone like Cate? Could they truly be happy? Didn't they deserve to be happy? If there was one thing worth fighting for it was that. No one ever said it was going to be easy, but what things in life that were truly worthwhile ever were?

In another day or so, they'd be returning to Dreven. Part of Duncan was looking forward to it, and part of him was dreading it. He knew returning to Dreven meant returning to all the problems he'd left unresolved there. And yet, Cate was right. He couldn't keep running forever. If he ever truly wanted to find happiness, he'd have to turn and face his demons and find a way to beat them. And then, maybe, just maybe, he and Cate could finally have the happiness that they both had dared wish for.