Beloved Highlander

“They are verra happy, and all is well.”

“And what of my mother and…and…”

“Your mother and I will be happy, too, Angus. We are happy now, but with every year we will grow happier. And I will grow uglier, and she will grow rounder.”

“Enough of that, Malcolm Bain!” Alison’s hand tapped him on the shoulder, but it did not hurt, and a smile lurked in her angry Forbes eyes. “I think we have all had enough of fairy tales for one night.”

“Whatever ye say, my little oatcake,” Malcolm Bain replied blandly, and winked at his son.

Angus chuckled, and glanced from his father to his mother. And it was clear, that for him, the fairy tale had just begun.

Epilogue

One year later

Meg looked out upon Glen Dhui, watching the sun sinking over it. All was well.

The past year had been a good one, the crops had been bountiful, and there had been no great sickness in the glen. The people were happy and content.

There had been one sadness: The general was no longer with them. Meg thought of him every day and mourned his loss, but she knew he had lived his life and had left her in the clear knowledge that she was well protected and well loved. Alison had foreseen his passing.

And Gregor, her husband the laird, had reclaimed his position as if he had never left it. No, that was not quite true. Gregor treated his position as laird with a genuine joy and gratitude that he probably would never have felt if he had not lost it for twelve years.

The baby stirred in Meg’s arms, and she stroked the soft, velvet cheek. Her son, hers and Gregor’s. His fine hair was darker than his father’s, but she had the feeling it would end up like Gregor’s—certainly there was no fire in it. But his eyes were definitely hers, blue and clear, and she had a feeling that they would stay so.

“They’ll change to gold,” Gregor had insisted.

“Maybe the next one.”

“Och, Meg, how can you speak of another so soon after this?” Gregor asked, genuinely shocked. He had been anguished at the birth, suffering more, Meg suspected, than had she. That had been four months ago, and he hadn’t seemed to want to touch her since, as if he were afraid to…

Meg rocked the baby in her arms, singing a soft lullaby.

A warm arm slipped about her, and a warm voice murmured, “My bonny wife, keeping her sharp eye on the glen.”

“Someone has to watch out for the people of Glen Dhui,” she replied evenly, and turned her head to smile at him.

He smiled back, his eyes moving over her face, memorizing each feature with an intensity she would never grow used to. An artist’s eye, she supposed, for Gregor was always drawing her. He saw her in a way that she had never seen herself; when he sketched her, Meg was beautiful.

His gaze dropped to the sleeping baby, and his smile softened into a mixture of love and pride.

“His eyes are still blue,” Meg murmured.

Gregor frowned. “Aye.” He glanced at her and away, as if there were words he had to speak and yet did not quite know how to. “

Meg, it has been four months now, since the baby.”

“Och, Gregor, are ye wanting another already? Just so that ye can have a babe with golden eyes?” she teased.

He laughed at her imitation of his accent, but his eyes held doubt. “No, Meg, ’tis not that I want another, although I do, when you are ready. I am thinking of…” He sighed, impatient with himself. “Och, Meg, I want ye! I am burning up for ye. ’Tis been four months, six if we count the two before, when ye were unwell. I have been hard as a sword for weeks now. I dinna know if I can go on much longer without ye in my bed again.”

Meg stared at him, feeling the color slowly heat her cheeks. He wanted her. He had wanted her for six months, and she had thought…How could she have been so foolish? He had been giving her time to recover, probably waiting for her to make the first move.

Gregor rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Mabbe I’ve spoken too soon,” he said, but there was disappointment in every line of him.

Meg’s heart overflowed with love. Carefully, she chose her words, making each one special.

“Gregor, I have been lying in my bed thinking of you every night since our son was born. Sometimes I get out of my bed and go to the door and stand there, thinking of you. I have been afraid to go to you. I thought, well, I am a fool. I thought maybe you did not want me any more. So I waited. We have both been waiting, and wasting time.”