Highland Supplanter (Book 2)

Epilogue

Epilogue

The first snows of winter had left a crisp white crust upon the ground. Everything was bright in the thin light from the sun high above. The tiny crystals within the snow creating a mystical glow over everything it touched. It was a gorgeous sight to behold. Especially from the warmth and safety of a solid cottage, with a roaring fire in the hearth nearby. The cold breeze from the shutters being open the only reason there was a chill in the air. Wrapping her soft woollen shawl tighter around her shoulders, a smile gracing her face as she thanked God himself for the life he had given her, especially after where she had been only a year before and the state she had been in. The soft, but insistent frustrated noises coming from nearby had her grin widening. Closing the shutters carefully. She turned towards the small bundle in the basket on this side of the hearth chair. Making sure the wriggling, little sir was safe from the flames.

He grumbled some more, as his tiny fists came up to rub at his eyes, kicking out at the blanket she had wrapped him in only an hour before. His wide brown eyes, staring right at her as she approached, and his frustrated noises grew with his movements as she did not move fast enough. “Now, now, what is all this fuss about? Hmm?” Reaching out for her son, she picked him up and cradled him close. Knowing it was the only way for those grumblings to stop. Just like his father. Those same noises were made whenever she tried to escape his embrace in the middle of the night, and only stopped when she did and his arms could come around her once more.

He turned his head, a little wobbly, as he flailed his little pudgy arms at the same time. She tapped his bottom lip, and knew from his little moue that he was ready for his next feed. Not that he would turn his nose up, her son had a healthy appetite, which was one thing she would never have to worry about. “Is Sir Aibne feeling hungry?” He rubbed his cheek against the top of her breast, and she had to laugh a little at the movement, “Shall I take that as agreement?” Sitting in the chair by the hearth, as the delicious smell of the stew she made heated on the fire. She hummed lightly as she looked down at the future she never thought she would have had, or even deserved. Stroking his soft cheek with the back of her finger, as he was greedily drank his fill, she wondered at just what she had been given since Hamish had broken down her front door.

The flickering flames of the hearth sending a dancing light over her and the bairn, and she leaned her head back, closing her eyes thinking back to before Aibne’s birth. Only a month after her father’s death had seen the arrival of Father Geoffrey. It had turned out he had a tale to tell himself. Having been set upon on the road, he had ended up taking sanctuary in Kendrick’s Keep until he could make his way to MacKay land as he had originally intended. Father Patrick Thomas, was indeed not a priest at all, and in fact had been the vagabond that had set upon Father Geoffrey. With a guard as escort, Cam had sent him, with a very telling and damning letter from the true priest as to the man’s crimes, and his association with Grant, to the Bishop. Cam had decided that his Reverence could have the pleasure of dealing with the man, which also meant he would never not have to feed and water the poor excuse of a male anymore.

Within two days of his arrival, the priest had blessed the grave of Azzarra and the clan had celebrated a life that had never managed to truly live. She had to smile at the memory. Personally she thought it was any excuse for the best whiskey to be pulled from storage and have it flowing freely. Aislinn and Cam had retired early that night, with their two bairn’s to grieve truly for the member of their family they would never forget. Hamish had taken her back to their cottage that night, and held her close, though he had not said a word, his embrace, and the fine trembling in his hands as he had cupped her stomach as they lay in the dark. She could tell he feared a similar fate for their own bairn, and until the moment he was born hale and healthy he worried in silence, no matter how she tried to get him to talk.

It had been Father Geoffrey that had been the one to mention one night, as they partook of the evening meal, that he would be performing a marriage in the eyes of God on the following morrow. The confusion on the brows had caused him to chuckle heartily, before he had pointed a thin finger in Hamish’s direction. “I had expected better of you, boy. But to have your woman hand fasted, and pregnant, and with a priest before you. I know you do not need a priest until spring next year. But shame on you man. Shame on you.” The stern expression had immediately extracted an apology from Hamish, and a promise they would be wherever he wanted on the morrow to say the vows before God. To which the entire upper table had roared with laughter for the first time since the grave blessing the week before.

Hamish, red cheeked with embarrassment had finally realised Cam and Isla had been behind it all. On the morrow, a dress had appeared in a wonderful green to offset Fyfa’s hair, and a coronet of flowers that she had since dried and stored away safely, had been placed upon her head. A feast had greeted them after the entire clan had cheered as they were finally joined before God himself. Her smile at the memory even now tried to split her face. Looking down at her disgruntled son, she swapped sides with him, knowing he would only complain, loudly, if she did not. Knowing exactly how lucky she was for such a good natured boy, he hardly cried. Though made up for it with many other expressive ways of communication. She had a feeling he was going to take after his father completely. Quiet and contemplative around a lot of people. But when he finally met the one he was supposed to be with, he would be loyal and stubborn until she was his.

A brisk breeze had her shivering as she looked up at the male who had changed her entire life. All for the better. Stomping his booted feet upon the floor by the entrance, scattering snow upon the floor, and shaking his shoulders. Rubbing his hands, he looked up at her, seeing her watching him, he had the grace to look a little shame faced at the mess he was creating, and the noise he had made. But as Aibne had not changed his focus from his meal, she could not complain overly much. As he came to stand before the fire, she could feel the chill coming from him, and knew that no matter the weather he man would take his duty seriously, especially when he had ‘his woman and bairn to look out for’.

After shedding his outer cloak, he came to kneel before the both of them, gently stroking Aibne’s cheek with one large finger. And looked up at her through his dark lashes. It was a perfect moment. One that had happened so many times before, and would surely happen again, and yet in that moment, at that point in time. It was the most precious she could ever have. She had a family, she was safe, and love permeated the very walls of the home they were creating together. Never could she had ever dreamed of such a year ago, but she thanked God every day that she had received what she had.

Leaning forward, their son between them, she took his offered lips in a gentle caress. Life would never be perfect. It was full of ups and downs. But they could only live with what they had in the moment, and right at that moment, she had all she could ever need.