Epilogue
FIVE YEARS LATER…
Ian crested the last hill to the keep, halting his horse so that he could take in the view of his home in the distance. The weather was warm and he could hear children’s shouts in the distance, enjoying what was left of another day on Wallace land.
“Donna tell mah ye are ogling it again,” Remy growled as he came to a stop next to his friend. “Aren’t ye tired of it yet?”
“Nay,” Ian replied, clutching the reins in his hand. “I never grow tired of the sight.” It was because he knew what awaited him when he rode further into the village, how his wife would greet him at the door with one of their three bairns on her hip. She would have some cheeky comment about him being out all day, but he would know not to take her words seriously.
She was proud of him and the work that he was doing as the Wallace laird. She told him often enough, yet she took very little credit for herself. Ida was proving to be a fine lady of the keep, one with ideas and thoughts that Ian and his council listened to.
She wasn’t, however, the only MacGregor he had on his lands. Her uncle had decided that his time in his home clan had passed and had asked to join them on their land shortly after their wedding. Ida had told Ian that it was his decision and she would stand by it, but it hadn’t been a hard one for Ian. Uncle Baron, which was what his true name really was, had shown that he had much to offer a new laird. It was almost like having his father in his ear some days, helping him become the laird that Ian had always wished to be.
His brother was also one of his advisors and Remy had taken up the post of captain of the guard temporarily, though he had held the position for on five years. Ian knew that his friend secretly enjoyed it, but he wasn’t going to force him to make it official until he was ready.
After all, with the peace accord in place, they had little to fight over. There were still skirmishes from other clans of course, but the Wallace-MacGregor accord was strong as ever.
Which gave Ian more time to devote to his family. His son, Luca, was already showing signs of being a great warrior even at the tender age of four. Their daughter, Tinsley, was the apple of her ma’s eye at three years of age and baby Ridon had just celebrated his first year. Ian hadn’t realized until Luca had been born how much he appreciated his bairns and his wife.
“Come,” he finally said, nudging his horse forward. “Let’s see wot is for dinner.”
Remy followed him as they rode the remaining way to the keep, dismounting from their horses so that they could walk into the great hall. Already there was a commotion, the wailing of a bairn as Luca ran to his da, throwing himself at his legs.
“Donna coddle him,” Ida said sharply, handing Ridon off to the waiting-maid.
Ian picked up his son anyway, peering into his tear-filled eyes. “Wot did ye do?”
“He,” Ida answered for him. “Decided that it would be best to cut his best tunic into ribbons!”
“For mayday,” Luca piped up, looking at his ma warily. “We need ribbons.”
Ida rolled her eyes as Remy choked out a laugh, excusing himself before Ida turned her vengeance on him.
“Now Luca,” Ian tried, barely holding back his laughter as well. “Ye know there are plenty of scraps for ribbons.”
“But not like that,” Luca fought back. “I cut them with mah dagger da. Ye should have seen mah!”
It was Ian’s turn to redden as Ida’s brows shot up. “Wot dagger?”
Ian put Luca down hastily. “Go clean up yer mess. Tomorrow ye will be mucking out the stalls.”
Luca stomped off with the maid in tow and Ian barely had time to look up before Ida was poking at his chest with her finger. “He’s far too young for a dagger Ian! Wot if he injures himself?”
Ian snagged her finger with his hand and pulled her against him, pressing his lips to her neck. “Then he will learn wot tae do with it. Tis will only take one time Ida.”
She groaned as his hand slid over her breast before slapping it away and pushing against him, putting some distance between the two of them. “We arena done arguing mah laird.”
He grinned, loving it when she got all riled up at him. “Would ye like tae move this tae our chambers then, wife?” He had missed her today and now his body ached to be buried inside her.
She arched a brow, giving him a haughty look that was befitting of the lady of the keep. “If ye think ye can talk mah into yer bed, mah laird, ye are sorely mistaken.”
“Fine,” he said. She barely let out a squeak as he scooped her up over his shoulder and strode to the stairs, laughing as she beat him on his shoulders. “Ian!” she laughed. “Let mah down!”
He gave her a small pat on her arse, taking two steps at a time. “Come now wife. Tis time for us tae finish this argument.” This was what he loved about his wife, her feistiness that never seemed to fade even after five years. If nothing else, he loved her more with each passing day.
She was his everything, his life.
“Ye aren’t going tae win this fight!” she shouted as he reached the second landing, moving toward their chambers with some haste now. “Och, Ian Wallace!”
“Keep that anger love,” he told her, a grin on her face. “And take it out on mah when I put ye down.”
Neither showed until dinnertime.
Thank you so much for reading my novel!