Epilogue #2
Patrick, with Ambra sleeping on his big shoulder, made his way over to Markus and hugged the man, but Markus was still focused on Aleanor.
“Is your mother well?” he demanded. “Are the children well? What are they?”
“Male.”
They all looked over to the doorway to see Jordan de Wolfe standing there.
The woman looked weary, but her cheeks were rosy with joy.
Even at her advanced age, she looked positively ageless, even more so now that she’d helped deliver her great-grandchildren.
It was the circle of life that just kept going.
When she saw Markus, she stepped into the chamber.
“Two boys, Markus,” she said in her soft Scottish accent. “Yer wife had a time trying tae bring them into this world, but they are here and they are healthy. Ye have two beautiful sons.”
Markus stared at her a moment before collapsing back onto his chair. As Patrick and Scott kissed their mother, and Scott congratulated Patrick on becoming a grandfather, Jordan went to her overwhelmed grandson.
“Ama is doing very well,” she assured him softly. “She is weary, but that is understandable. Come and see her. She has asked for ye.”
Markus looked up at his grandmother. The rock of the entire de Wolfe pack, a woman whose love and advice he valued more than any other with the exception of his own wife. She meant so much to so many people. Reaching out, he took her two small, warm hands in his. He was fighting off tears.
“Two sons,” he whispered. “I… I can hardly believe it. And they are well?”
“Screaming like banshees.”
“And Ama is well?”
Jordan kissed him on the forehead. “She’s fine, lad,” she said. “Please believe me.”
Markus nodded, blinking back the tears. “I do, I swear,” he said. “I just… this is such a big moment. I find myself wishing Poppy was here to share it with us.”
Jordan smiled. “He is,” she said. “Can ye not feel him all around ye? He’s here, Markus. Have no doubt of that. Now, come along. Come see the newest members of yer family.”
Markus nodded, taking a deep breath before standing up again. He didn’t want to chance toppling over because he was still feeling a bit woozy. He hadn’t taken two steps when Magnus, holding on to Alfie’s hand, spoke up.
“’Tis a good thing you had two,” he said sternly. “I reserve the right to name one of your sons, as I named you.”
They all looked over at the big Northman. “I knew that was why you came,” Markus said, his eyes twinkling with humor. “Of course, it was to see your daughter and your grandchildren, but your first great-grandchild is something to be proud of. I suspected you would demand to name it if it was male.”
Magnus made his way over to his grandson, looking up at him because he was so tall. There was adoration and amusement in his expression.
“I named you after the greatest warrior I ever knew,” he said.
“His name was Markus Haakonsson and there was no man finer or braver in all the land. But for your firstborn son, I have chosen the name Magnar. That was the name of my mother’s father and I loved him dearly.
He was wise beyond measure, generous to a fault, and one of the fiercest men I have ever known.
It is a great honor for your first born to carry the name of Magnar. ”
Markus grinned at him. Truly, he knew the man would demand naming rights, so he had forewarned Amabella. That meant they were both prepared for this moment.
No one wanted to disappoint a Norse king.
“Aye, it is,” he agreed. “Let me go see to my sons now. I shall whisper their names in their ear and Magnar will know that his great-grandfather has named him. But his middle name shall be Patrick, after the greatest man I know. I must honor my father, too. Magnar Patrick de Wolfe.”
They all turned to look at Patrick, who was overwhelmed with gratitude by the naming.
He thought for certain that his wife’s father would have taken over that particular aspect of their lives like he had with their other children.
But Magnus didn’t have complete control; Markus still managed to honor his father.
Patrick and Markus shared a special moment, just between father and son, before Markus quit the chamber and headed to the keep to see his wife and new children.
He could still hardly believe it.
When he arrived in the lavish and warm chamber, it was to his own mother’s smiling face.
Brighton de Wolfe hugged her enormous son, pulling the physic and her daughters from the chamber so that he could be alone with his new family.
When the door was shut and the room was still, Markus crept up on the bed to find Amabella lying there, nursing the dark-haired infants, one on each breast.
Markus couldn’t help it; the tears came.
“Oh… Ama,” he murmured. “Look at them. They are magnificent.”
Amabella smiled up at her emotional husband. “Sit next to us,” she said softly. “Allow me to introduce you to your sons, querida. We hoped for one and were blessed with two.”
Markus sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the contented infants. He reached out a timid hand, gently touching the one nearest him.
“They are beautiful,” he said. Then, his gaze moved to her. “As are you. At this very moment, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”
Reaching out, he took her hand, kissing it reverently. Amabella touched his face, watching him as he kissed her palm.
“Are you well?” she asked. “You look a bit pale.”
He laughed softly. “I am fine,” he said. “Now that I know you are well, I am perfectly fine. But I will admit I was nervous.”
Amabella laughed softly, looking down at the infants tugging on her breasts. “Truth be told, I was a little, too,” she said. “These two were happy and content in my belly. It took a while to coax them out.”
“That is what my mother said.”
Amabella snorted. “She has had twins twice,” she said. “I have no idea how she managed such a thing. Once is enough for me.”
“My mother is a strong woman.”
“She is,” Amabella agreed. “But you and I did not expect two sons and we only selected one name.”
Markus grinned. “Not to worry,” he said. “Magnus has taken care of that, as I told you he would. He insists that the first born be called Magnar and I have agreed. It would make an old man happy.”
“Magnar,” Amabella repeated, rolling it over her tongue. “I like that. Magnar and his brother, Mateo, after my own grandfather.”
“As the great-grandsons of a Norse king, England’s greatest knight, and Aragon royalty, they will be the finest knights the world has yet to see,” Markus said.
Then, he bent down so that he was peering at the infants.
“It is an awesome legacy you bear, Magnar Patrick and Mateo Alonzo. Through you, great men will live on.”
Amabella watched him as he spoke to the babies, reaching out to hold Markus’ hand tightly. “They are the sons of Markus de Wolfe,” she said. “Through them, you shall live on, too. There is no question that their legacies shall be the greatest England has yet to see.”
Markus leaned over her, kissing her sweetly, tenderly, as the infants nursed.
To see the results of their powerful love was enough to bring tears to his eyes again.
He’d only heard of such contentment, told by men he had, at times, considered fools.
Surely no man could be content with a woman to love and children at his feet.
Men needed glory and warfare, properties and wealth in order to be truly happy.
At least, that’s what he’d thought, once.
But Markus had come to realize that true contentment did indeed come from things that all of the money in the world couldn’t buy. Through the children now dozing off against his wife’s bare breasts, Markus knew that he’d found the greatest contentment of all.
The power of love.
The man with the heart as big as a wolf had found his noblest destiny.
* THE END *