Warlord Read online Jenika Snow

Categories Genre: Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 30858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
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He smoothed his hands over Tristian’s hair then leaned down to kiss Genevieve and Deacon on the head. He would never let anyone hurt them, would kill for them and die for them. They were his life now. He had never known there was something he could love more than his land or his clan, but seeing his children and the woman who had given him those children, Bronson knew he would fight another thousand battles just to have this moment once more.

Epilogue Three

Twenty-five years later

The Scottish sun shone brightly, and Bronson sat next to Genevieve. They were older now, had created a house full of children, and now even a handful of grandbabes ran around their feet.

He reached for his wife’s hand. She looked gorgeous just the same as she always had, and to him hardly aged in these last twenty-five years. Bronson still trained at the manor, still expected the worst and waited for someone to try to claim what was not theirs. But he was prepared, and with five grown sons to take over his legacy, and three daughters to keep his life holding meaning, Bronson knew when his time did come to leave this world, his name would not die with him.

“Seanair. Seanair. Look!” Adaira, his youngest granddaughter, called for him in Gaelic. She lifted her hand and showed him the flowers she picked.

“They grow verra fast, Bronson,” Genevieve said, and when he looked over at her, he saw her smiling.

“Aye, lass.” He squeezed her hand and looked around at his family. His two oldest sons, Tristian and Deacon were playing with their children. Tristian had two sons of his own, Bhreac and Nicol. Deacon was with his two wee lasses, Adaira and Dolina, and his son, Paden. Then there were the rest of Bronson’s children and grandbabes, and he smiled at the sight.

They had the Lyon signature dark hair and blue eyes, but then there was little Adaira, who had taken after Genevieve with her wild red curls and bright green eyes, just as Tristian had. He turned, faced his wife, and smiled. “Life canna get any better than this, lass.” And then he leaned forward and kissed her.

The End.

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