Disclaimer: The usual….

A SPECIAL thanks to Homeric (whose stories I adore), ShiloCoulter, Jen, xXRoweenaJAugustineXx and of course brandibuckeye for reviewing the last chapter also to all those of you faithful for your emails, marking this story in your favorites and alerts and for all those who read it and hopefully enjoyed it. Tamlynn and Bunny thanks so much for all your thoughts and support!

Katie aka girl in the library corner—thank you for all your amazing points and suggestions…you are the best pair of eyes….

And to my beautiful Katherine for all your support…..I love you

Well here we are at the epilogue…I must say that it is bittersweet for me. I hope you have enjoyed this storyline as much as I have enjoyed developing it. It was a wonderful stretch for me as an author and I feel my writing has grown tremendously. I am looking forward to writing the sequel about Rowan and Lucan.

BUT FIRST~~~ I am finishing up To Love a Wolf and Lost Soul. Then I have to work on Unexpected Liaisons PLUS I have two stories dancing around in my mind that want so desperately to come to life but I told them they all had to stay in there until I completed these other stories~~at which point there began a lot of yelling and protesting going on, at that point I had to come before Arthur in the round table chamber and bequest he send the "Scout" in there to keep a little order!

Cast of character's for this chapter:

Rowan- 16 years old's at this point in time

Alynore and Bren 7 year old twin sons to Tristan and Fiona

Iwain 9 year old son to Tristan and Fiona

Lucan 17 year old boy taken in by Dagonet and Katie

Aryas and Marcus 7 year old twin sons to Dagonet and Katie

Brumear (called Bru by the other knights) knight of the round table, now instructor of young knights under Arthur's new reign.

English inches are traditionally divided into 12 Lines. English inches are also defined as being the length of "Three good sized barleycorns
placed end to end".

Check out the updated blog for this story on my profile! I think you will be happy with the actors I chose! I hope so.

Epilogue: The scent of a woman

"Watch your weak side Lucan," shouted Brumear, one of the instructors for Arthur's young knight's training squad. Brumear was one of the largest, most burly, and massive Sarmatian Knights like Dagonet. He was known among the Woads as the giant from the mountain lands. He was firm, tough and unforgiving when it came to training the young knights. Battle was no festival and training shouldn't be either as far as he was concerned. He had been recruited into the new forces after Rome left, Arthur became king, the Saxons were defeated and uniting the land needed a firm hand.

"Damn it all, how many times do you have to be hit before you remember your blind side?" he shouted sternly at the young knight.

Lucan's head bowed near to the dirt, braced on his elbows and one knee he contemplated yielding but knew his father was watching. Yielding was not something he had the option to do. If Dag had taught his sons anything it was the pride of being a Sarmatian (even if Lucan was not blood Sarmatian he carried the heritage within him). Dag instilled this deep rooted pride in Lucan and his 7 year old twins, Aryas and Marcus.

"Godsdamnit all….. fuck sake," Bru muttered under his breath in exasperation, forcibly kicking his boots against the hard ground, stomped off toward the fence. "Get out of my fuckin sight the lot of you, get yourselves a drink then regroup." He roared.

Lucan slowly pulled himself up off the ground, humiliated by letting Sher defeat him that way. He stormed off out of the arena forcibly knocking into anyone he could.

"He is not focused on his task at hand as of late," heavy sigh escaped from Dag's chest as he watched his son struggle. His head shook from side to side. "He knows better…he knows better, what is in that mind of his?" He muttered out loud to himself.

"It's the scent…the godsdamns fucking scent that has your son all a pissfucked… like a damn bitch in heat," growled Bru. He braced himself on the fence post looked out towards the fort, squinted his eyes and murmured. "That godsdamn scent."

"The scent," eyes closed shut, lips meshed together, he was not ready for what this sort of thing would bring. Hoped that he could avoid the power the scent had on his son just a little while longer. "You think it's that?" Hands clasped, arms extended on the fence, left leg bent back as he stretched his large form.

"It never changes does it?" Brumear let out a low chuckle shaking his own head as he remembered the days when he was just a young whelp. "The power those minxes have on us, no matter how hard we run from it, they never fail in entrapping us in their soft sensual snares, wielding us senseless…utterly worthless."

"I was never like that," Dag sputtered with a half groan-half laugh.

"For fucksake Dagonet…ole friend, think back to when we were his age," he laughed. "Wasn't that all any of us cared about, dreamed about night and day? Yes, the smell of their scent, those soft sweet oils and herbs they use to draw us in making, us desire the warmth of their flesh." He paused, lifted his head as though he was inhaling the sweet smell of some captivating scent within his chest cavity, and remembered some fond memory from long ago. Bru placed his hands in his leathers, adjusted his manhood and grunted. "None of us knew what the hell to do once we finally got one them. Nothing but release in our leathers the minute a soft hand touched us there." Tilting his head back he sneered at the recollection of youthful frustration.

"We were never his age Bru," he said whispered respectively. "You and I were always old."

"I suppose we weren't were we," head tilted sideways catching his friend eye to eye, he chuckled. "No, we weren't." He turned around bracing his large frame against the post with his elbows, eyes slit near shut as he looked to the sky. He was deep in memories when he let out a roaring belly shaking laugh, chin hitting chest.

"Enjoyed that did you?" Dag leaned his head over to his friend.

"Do you remember that fiery, yellow- haired forger's daughter that you chased for months?" Bru snorted, rubbed his upper hand under his breaded chin.

Laughing under his breath Dag looked in the other direction, trying to refrain from the memory.

"You remember, you were bout the same age as Lucan," he rolled out a laugh. "I will never forget the look on your face when her father and I walked in and he caught the pair of you in the stables. Her with her legs in the air and you with your cock hilt deep inside her." His laughter bellowed throughout the arena, causing all young eyes to cast their way, as laughing was not something that Bru did often. "He chased your bare ass with that iron rod of his for near a mile. Lucky for you, you were thinner back then with long legs to out run him." Again his head tilted back roaring with laughter.

"You are enjoying this a little too much my friend," Dag stood erect stretching his chest out, brows creased as he glared into Bru's face.

Bru stood in front of Dag, placed his hands on his shoulders and squeezed. Dag looked over his right shoulder at the group of young boys gathered in the center of the arena waiting for their instructor to return. He caught Lucan eye and cast a reassuring smile.

"I wonder who she is, this little minx that has my son all pissfucked,"

"Come now Dag, you cannot be serious?" Bru stated in astonishment before casting a nod with his head to the opposite side of the arena. "It's her, that one over there."

"Rowan!" Dag shouted causing all eyes to turn his way. She heard her name called aloud, looked up from restringing her bow, then looked in the direction of where it came, and raised her brow in a questioning manner of curiosity. "Ah, nothing little one," he replied, desperate to over correct his outburst with a smile and wave at the young girl.

Her brows knitted as she went back to her task of restringing her bow. She spent much of her time at the training arenas practicing her archery. She had become one of the best bowmen, no doubt due to who her father was. Tristan had seen to it that all four of his children excelled in archery and tracking.

"Yes, Rowan, none other than the Scout's daughter…of all the females in this fort your son would choose her," Bru chuckled.

"May the gods help him," Dag laughed, head shaking from side to side. "Not sure who will be harder on him, Tris or Rowan."

"Lucan will have to ask that miserable, snot crusty bastard for his permission to court her, you do know that," Bru's face bore that unmistakable smile he was so famous for. A smile that was as wicked as tempestuous sky.

"By all the gods," Dag merely muttered.

Spoken in Sarmatian-

"You fall out of that tree Iwain and your mother will tack my hide to the side of the stable like a drying pelt," the Scout chuckled as he watched his oldest son climb like a squirrel up the side of the tree trunk.

"I won't father, I am a champion climber," the young boy hollered back to the Scout. He was climbing a tall oak tree.

"I want to climb too father," Alynore shouted as small hands tugged at his father's tunic.

"Too high Nor…you'll have to wait till you're a bit bigger son." A caring gentle hand took hold on the boy's shoulder as his watched the dark haired child's head drop down. Tristan laughed and pulled his young son near to him. "It won't be long son and you'll be as big as Iwain."

"I am nearly the same age as he father… it is not fair," the young voice grumbled, dark brooding eyes glared upward.

"You will find many things in life are not fair son…best you get use to that," he knelt down taking the boy by the hips, foreheads resting against each other. "Patience Nor…you will be grown before you know it." A sudden jerk was felt on his back as Bren jumped aboard wrapping small arms around his father's neck.

"Mother says that I have grown six good sized barleycorns placed end to end since the last moon," Bren chanted over his father's shoulder.

"Is that all, only six barleycorns…I thought it were more like ten," the Scout chuckled flipping Bren over his shoulder into his lap. Enfolding both his son's close he began to tickle the young boys into a roaring high pitched laughter.

"I've got it father," Iwain shouted tucking the falcon fledgling into his shirt before making his decent. Carefully Iwain made his way down the mighty tree, shimming down the last bit. For sure he was a champion climber. Once his feet hit the ground he ran to his father and brothers clutching the small bird tenderly within his clothing.

"I want to see, let me see the baby falcon," Nor jumped up and down.

"Be still you stupid git," Iwain snarled. "You will wake the entire forest."

"Do not call me a stupid git or I shall…." Nor grumbled fiercely, just before he saw the stern look upon his father's face. Tristan did not have to raise his voice when disciplining his children. All that was needed was a stern look crossing his brow and they all stepped into line.

His right brow cocked, long shaggy braided locks cascading across his face, he looked upon his oldest son. Without saying a word the message was relayed. Iwain knew precisely what his father meant.

"I am sorry Nor…I should not have called you a stupid git," his hand reached over to his brother's hair, he rubbed Nor's head. Slowly his hand slipped in his tunic to retrieve the young fledgling. There was a quiet gasp from the twin's. Tristan smiled as he watched the wonderment in his young son's eyes. Iwain knelt down, father and sons now in a circle, the young falcon fledgling placed in Tristan cupped hands. The boys took turns gently stroking the bird.

Later that afternoon:

"Look mother…look what we rescued," Bren shouted with glee bouncing into the threshold of the cottage doorway.

Turning to the sound of her children as they entered the house she smiled. She caught sight of her handsomely rugged husband walk in, which always managed put a smile on her face. She wiped her hands on her apron before encircling her son's body, kissing his head.

"Let's see what the latest animal you have brought home might be," she said with laughter. "One day you shall bring back a giant bear. Oh, look….both living and dead animals," she stated casting her eyes on the dead hare dangling from her man's hand as he held it up proudly. His prize. They caught each other in a gaze, he winked, and she blushed. Yes, he could still make her blush after all these children and all these years. He and he alone could make her heart skip its very beat and blush her cheeks the brightest hue of red.

Iwain brought the fledgling to his mother gently placing it in her hands. She watched as her husband kicked his boots off, placing his bow and quiver in the nitch just by the door. His eyes never left her form. She still had the same effect on him….his woman. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath; he took in her scent…the scent of his woman. It was a magical mixture of lavender, herbs and oils she used.

His head slightly bent down so his wild shaggy braided locks covered his eyes, hiding behind them as he approached her, stalking her like he would his prey. He had that look of wanton desire in his eyes for her still.

Fiona handed the bird back to Iwain at which point the three offspring of the Scout scurried past their father like leaves to the wind. Tristan's hand rubbing the tops of his sons' heads as they ran passed him. They quickly vanished to the stable to prepare a nesting place for the new found hawk.

Fiona turned and braced herself against the counter's edge. He was approaching, she could feel him. Her eyes fluttered close as his hands slid across her hips, palms pressing against her stomach as he pulled her close. Instinctively she tilted her head, pulling her hair to one side; she could feel him chuckle against her back. He moaned. She groaned as the heat from his open mouth trailed from the base of her neck to the back of her ear.

"My lord," she whispered breathlessly. "Your offspring continue to rescue wild animals, bringing them home for me to tend to. I have enough wild beasts to care for with you and your seed running about." Her voice low and teasing.

"That is because their mother," speaking between intermittent kisses, he pulled her tighter against him she could feel his hardness against the small of her back. "…..is so very good at taming wild beasts," he growled spinning her around and capturing her mouth with his own.

Breaking the kiss for a mere second, "My lord, I prefer keeping my beast wild and untamed, as I prefer him much better that way," she purred as his mouth buried itself in her cleavage.

Heavy rough hands roamed down trembling legs, gathering dress material as they went until they were free to caress the warm silky flesh of her thighs. Her hands instinctively roamed across tight muscled abs and waist till they found the buckles and latches of his leather, hastily undoing them in heated desire. His hands cupped the back of her thighs, hoisting her up as they laced around him. Soon long slender legs hooked themselves together at the ankles, braced on the small of his back. Their kiss filled with the passion, need and hunger only they could satisfy for each other.

Heads tilted back as the intense heat of pleasure was felt driving deep within her.

He claimed his woman, right then, right there just as he had done so many times since their union. He would never get enough of the scent of his woman.

To be continued….. in the sequel…

Again thank you all for your supoort!

Laura