His vision blurred alarmingly, and his last thought before . . . er, before the stress of the moment temporarily leeched him of his wits, was relief that he wasn’t dying, and fury at himself for missing even a second of what was surely the most thrilling event in his entire life.

The legendary Tuatha Dé Danaan had come! And what did the grand Keltar laird do?

Fainted like a willy-nilly peahen.

A few minutes later, Chloe was sitting on the sofa with her head between her knees, trying desperately to breathe.

Dageus was at her feet, his hands wrapped around her calves. “Lass, let me get a paper bag, you’re hyperventilating.”

“Don’t you”—pant-pant—“DARE”—pant-pant—“leave me!” She clutched at his shoulders.

“I doona plan to leave you ever again, love,” he said soothingly, stroking her hair. “I’m but going to the kitchen for a bag. Try to relax, sweet.”

Chloe nearly screamed again out of sheer frustration. Relax. As if. She needed to hold him, to kiss him, to demand to be told what in the world was going on, but she couldn’t get a deep enough breath to manage anything.

Standing there at the door, when she’d heard his voice slicing through the darkness, she’d nearly fainted. The sword had clattered from her suddenly lifeless hands, her knees had turned to butter, and her lungs had simply stopped functioning properly. She’d thought hiccups were awful, but she’d take them over hyperventilating any day.

And she’d cut him! There was a thin line of blood on his neck. She tried to dab at it, but he caught both her hands in one of his, pressed them gently to her lap, then began moving toward the kitchen. She craned her head sideways and watched him go. How could this be? How was he alive? Oh, God, he was alive!

She couldn’t take her eyes off him, and twisted around, following his progress, not letting him out of her sight for a minute. He was here. He was really here. He was real. She’d touched him.

She knew, from how ashen his face was, that her inability to get a deep breath was scaring him. It was scaring her too, so she forced herself to concentrate on unknotting inside.

By the time he returned with the paper bag, although she was still trembling visibly, she was managing complete breaths. She stared up at him, tears of joy spilling down her cheeks.

“How? How is this possible?” she cried, flinging herself into his arms.

“Och, lass,” he purred, catching her in his embrace. He ducked his head and brushed his lips to hers. Once, twice, a dozen times. “I thought I’d lost you forever, Chloe,” he groaned.

“You? So did I!”