Epilogue
The sunlight poured soft and golden through the tall windows of the solar, spilling over parchment and brushes. Scarlett sat curled by the hearth, her sketchbook balanced on her lap. The fire was low, and the quiet hum of the castle felt different now—calm, lived-in, and hers.
Their chambers.
The thought made her smile before she caught herself. Two weeks, and she still hadn’t grown used to the sound of that. Her gowns now hung beside his coats, her ribbons lay tangled with his cravats, and her brushes stood in a neat cup beside his shaving blade.
She had never expected to feel at home in Gundor Castle. Yet here she was, sketching while her husband read over estate ledgers across the room, the steady scratch of his quill a sound she’d come to love.
Robert looked far too serious for a man who’d spent the morning stealing kisses from her before breakfast. His dark hair fell slightly forward as he bent over his desk, the light from the window catching the scar that curved along his jaw.
The sight of him, so focused and quietly handsome, made her fingers itch for charcoal again.
She was halfway through shading the line of his shoulder when he spoke without looking up.
“Ye’re staring again.”
Scarlett nearly dropped the brush. “I am nae.”
“Aye, ye are.” His voice held that teasing edge she’d learned to recognise, the one that meant he knew she was flustered. “Ye’ve been drawing me again, haven’t ye?”
“I’ve drawn worse things,” she said, feigning innocence.
He glanced up then, eyes glinting. “Aye, but none half as handsome.”
She tried to suppress her smile, failed, and ducked her head. “Ye’re too sure of yerself, Laird McLaren.”
“Only where ye’re concerned.”
Scarlett’s heart gave a soft twist. “And here I thought ye were busy with numbers.”
“I can do both.” He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “Figures and flattery… multitasking, they call it.”
“Multitasking, is it?” she asked, lifting a brow. “Then ye can flatter the steward next time ye’re behind on accounts.”
He chuckled. “He wouldnae appreciate it as much.”
Scarlett shook her head though her smile lingered. The comfort between them had come slowly, like thawing ice. Days filled with laughter, nights filled with more than words. For once, there was no need to pretend indifference or to guard every look.
The door creaked open then, and Katie slipped in, cheeks flushed from the climb up the stairs. “Me Lady,” she said, a little breathless, “a letter’s come for ye.”
Scarlett blinked. “A letter?”
Katie crossed the room and handed it over, the wax seal still intact. “From yer friend, Miss Edith.”
Scarlett’s face lit with surprise. “Edith! I havenae heard from her since before the wedding.”
Robert’s head lifted at once. “Edith?”
Scarlett’s fingers were already working at the seal. “Aye, she’s one of me dearest friends from home.” She unfolded the parchment and began to read, her eyes skimming quickly across the elegant scrawl then widening in disbelief.
Robert rose from his chair, crossing to her side. “What is it?”
Scarlett read aloud, her voice faltering halfway through. “She writes that she’s… betrothed.”
“That’s good news, surely?”
She swallowed, glancing up at him. “To me brother.” Robert stilled. “Aaron?”
Scarlett nodded slowly. “Aye. She says he proposed last week.”
For a long moment, there was only the crackle of the hearth between them. Then Robert gave a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “Aaron Gallaway, proposing? Either the world’s gone mad, or the lass has bewitched him.”
Scarlett was still staring at the letter. “He’s never spoken of marriage, not once. He always said he was wed to his work and his horse.”
Robert folded his arms, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “Then I suppose the lady found a way to compete.”
Katie, who was pretending not to listen, failed miserably at hiding her grin. “Perhaps she’ll gentle him a bit, Me Laird.”
“I heard he’s a fierce one, that brother of yers.”
Scarlett smirked. “Aye, fierce and impossible. He’s been called worse.”
Scarlett looked up from the page, torn between surprise and laughter. “He’ll be a dreadful husband if he doesnae learn to mind his tongue. Edith’s gentle, but she willnae suffer arrogance.”
Robert’s eyes gleamed. “Then she’s perfect for him. The lass will give him hell before the first fortnight’s through.”
“Robert!”
“What?” He shrugged, clearly amused. “Someone has to keep him from growing moss. If anyone can, it’ll be yer friend.”
Scarlett laughed despite herself, shaking her head. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Then perhaps we should see it.”
Her smile faded into curiosity. “What do ye mean?”
He reached for the letter, scanning the closing lines. “They’ve invited us. ‘A small gathering,’ she says, ‘to mark the engagement.’” His gaze flicked back to her, the corner of his mouth curving. “What say ye, love? Shall we visit them?”
Scarlett hesitated. “Travel now? The roads are near washed out from the last rain.”
“Aye, but it’s a fine excuse to escape the steward’s reports.” “And the council meetings?” she teased.
“I’ll take the risk.”
She eyed him thoughtfully. “Ye just want to see Aaron squirm.”
He didn’t deny it. “Aye, maybe. If Edith, yer friend truly managed to tame him, I’ll offer her me sword in gratitude.”
Scarlett pressed a hand to her mouth, laughing. “She willnae need it. Her tongue’s sharper.”
Robert leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Remind me never to get on her bad side, then. I’ve me hands full with one fierce lass already.”
“Fierce?” Scarlett arched a brow. “Is that what ye call me?” “Among other things.”
“Careful, Robert, or I’ll start making a list.” “Of what?” he asked, stepping closer still. “All the ways ye vex me.”
His hand brushed a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear. “Ye’d fill pages before noon.”
“Then stop giving me material.”
“I could,” he said softly, his breath warm against her cheek, “but I’d rather give ye reason to keep writing.”
Scarlett’s pulse skipped. She tried to turn back toward her sketchbook, but his hand lingered, tracing the side of her neck with maddening gentleness.
“Robert,” she said quietly, “Katie’s still here.”
Katie, who had wisely backed toward the door, grinned. “Aye, and I’m leaving right now.” She curtsied quickly. “Congratulations to yer friend, Me Lady.”
The moment the door shut behind her, Robert’s arm slipped around Scarlett’s waist. “Now, where were we?”
“Ye were reading about me brother’s betrothal,” she said, trying for composure.
“Ah, aye.” His lips brushed the edge of her jaw. “But I find I’m far more interested in me own marriage.”
Scarlett turned in his arms, pretending to scowl. “Ye’re impossible.” He smiled against her skin. “Ye’ve told me so before.”
“Then maybe I should start believing it.”
Robert’s hand tilted her chin up, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. “And yet ye’re still here.”
Her defiance softened. “Aye,” she whispered. “I am.”
He kissed her then, the kind of kiss that unraveled the rest of the world. The papers on his desk rustled in the draught, the fire hissed, but neither moved.
When he finally drew back, his voice was low. “Do ye ever think about how it started?”
She smiled faintly. “Aye. I remember wanting to throw a vase at ye.” He laughed under his breath. “Ye nearly did.”
“And now look at us,” she said, her tone mock serious. “Married. Sharing a room. Sharing…” “Everything?”
Her eyes met his. “Everything.”
Robert’s gaze softened. “Then I’ll keep earning it.”
Scarlett’s heart turned over. “Ye’ve already earned more than ye ken.” “Maybe,” he said, his voice deepening, “but I’d like to prove it again.” “Here?” she asked, though her tone was less scandalized than amused.
He looked around the solar, the sunlight slipping across the polished table, the open windows letting in the faint scent of heather and rain. “Aye,” he said finally. “Here’s as good a place as any.”
“Ye’re incorrigible.” “Only for ye.”
Scarlett’s protest died before it reached her lips. Robert’s mouth found hers again, firmer this time. The kiss deepened slowly, his hands tracing her sides, memorizing her like a man who still couldn’t quite believe she was real.
She rose on her toes to meet him, her fingers sliding through his hair. The world outside the solar fell away again, leaving only the crackle of the fire and the soft sighs that slipped between them.
“Robert…”
He caught her whisper with another kiss then lifted her easily, setting her on the desk amidst the scattered ledgers. A few pages fluttered to the floor, forgotten.
Scarlett’s laughter was breathless. “Ye’ll ruin yer papers.”
“They can wait,” he murmured, his lips tracing the line of her throat.
Her head tilted back, hands clutching his shoulders. The warmth of his body pressed against hers, the solid weight of him both steadying and intoxicating.
He drew back just enough to look at her properly, his thumb brushing along her jaw. “Ye sure?”
She met his gaze, steady and certain. “Aye.”
Robert’s gaze, dark and intent, held hers for a heartbeat longer, as if sealing a pact. Then, his hands were on her, not with frantic haste but with a deliberate, devastating purpose.
He didn’t fumble with laces. Instead, his large hands slid from her waist to her hips, and with a single, powerful motion, he lifted the chair.
A soft gasp escaped her as he turned, setting her down not on the wood but against the nearest stone wall, its cool surface a shocking contrast to the heat blooming through her dress.
He caged her there, his body a solid, warm barrier against the world.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the first day ye stormed in here, all fire and fury,” he murmured, his mouth finding the frantic pulse at the base of her throat. His lips were warm, his tongue tracing a slow, wet path that made her knees weaken.
“And what… what is ‘this’?” Scarlett breathed, her hands clutching at his shoulders for balance.