Epilogue
Stirling Castle
Almost one year later
Keirah stretched slightly as the warm slab beneath her tugged her closer. Did it ever turn stale waking in Aonghus’s arms? A press landed on the top of her skull from his lips. Never-ever! Each day was a gift – if only they were gifted a bairn of their own.
The dawn’s rays streaming through the arrow slit hit her closed lids just right, turning them a golden color while shuttered. Ugh! It was almost time to rise.
Tightening her arm about his ribs, she raised her leg and brushed his sated groin, still moist from their mating an hour past when they initially awoke. A slow smile spread onto her lips; that she never tired of either.
“What brings a smile unto your lips, Cluaran?”
Her lips became a kiss onto his torso, the dusting of hair there tickling her nose.
Opening her eyes, she leaned up on an elbow, her nipples now being teased by his same torso hairs. “Thoughts you would consider quite shocking, my knight,” she replied; then her mirth vanished. “However, I most certainly was also considering this: our final day before us at royal court.”
“The king saw the merit in our plan for the future.” Forever seeing the jovial side. Was it one of the things she loved most about him? Most definitely!
He went to stand. “Aye.” A concerned tone weighted her reply; he paused and regathered her close.
“How often have we spoken upon the desire to seek more time at Clan MacCade since paying call there two fortnights past?”
“Many times.”
“Has your sentiment wavered since declaring to me Deidre is the sister you always hoped for?”
“Nae,” she replied wholeheartedly. “She is lovely beyond reproach.”
“Then, did Sir Callum not declare that, even with the fresh castle laid, he yearned to return here unto court, thus easing our wish at remaining near Alec, Deidre, and their wee bairns?”
“Aye.”
“The king trusts my brother to take my post.”
“For certain.” She concurred, “Forthwith, I still fear the king shall harbor doubts at my taking leave at the last moment.”
“Fear not.” Her knight’s brows furrowed – there was that determined look she loved.
“He favors you among the highest in his kingdom. Since King H?konsson’s passing in December, his heir, King Magnus, truly lives up to the title by those who whisper him to be a ‘law-mender’.
The treaty shall come to pass by his hand; thus, our lord king would wish you only happiness, this I am certain. ”
She cocked a brow at him, questioningly.
The strain here at court had been tremendous; the allure Aonghus spoke about of returning to Castle MacCade was as strong as that of a butterfly searching for a bloom.
The lovely time spent there among the rolling hills wasn’t long enough.
Newly appointed knight Sir Callum did not know what he was in for here.
A knock at the door announced time to break their fast, and the mere thought made her queasy. Was she too nervous about seeing the king to eat? As Aonghus brushed his thumb over her lips, then met her eyes once more before standing, he repeated the sentiment.
“Fear not, my Cluaran, the time is upon us; your knight shall see the deed done. ’Tis our final day at royal court as hoped.” How she loved him.
She gave him a nod as he stood, threw on his tunic and braies, then flapped the drape closed, concealing her nakedness from view of the doorway he went to open.
“Thank you,” she heard him murmur, most likely at the tray bearer.
The tray clanked onto the table before the curtain popped open; she almost bolted for the chamber pot at the scent of cheeses wafting around the tiny feast.
“My lady?” Worry rode his tone while he looked at her from the canopy bed’s base.
She must be as green as she felt. “’Tis fine,” she assured him, then rested her head back on the pillow.
“Aonghus, I am simply tired; a wee nap before the king hears the complaints from the realm is all that is needed at the moment. Savor your apples – I shall have one a wee bit later.” She gave a yawn, one breath, then sleep welcomed her.
Too short a time later, she and Aonghus were almost at their daily posts beside the king.
If only Sir Brayden had been able to return in time from Edinburgh with his pregnant Lady Maise.
Maybe her spirits would be higher being near her dearest friend rather than looking at the sour expression which was forever Sir Sean once he spotted Aonghus after they entered the great hall.
Sir Sean, always trying to distance himself from his association with Sir James.
It was said the traitor knight still traveled the circles in the Kingdom of Norway’s royal court. Good riddance to the rooster!
She paused. Final. The final day checking the hall before they went for the solar to flank the king upon his entry.
She glimpsed about. Any threats? Fate, are we feeling any shadow-glances?
Don’t be fickle now, I need to know. A steady hum of conversations echoed from the stone wall and beams overhead.
Nope, no glances. She nodded approval at her knight. Good to go!
“Shall you miss this?” he said, for her ears alone.
One more look about. “I shall miss King Alexander,” she whispered.
“Sir Brayden and Lady Maise very much as well. At least they promised a journey to Castle MacCade when opportunity presents. I know we shall return here once the treaty is to be signed…nae…I yearn for our time, Chief MacCade.” She winked at him.
“’Twill be a hard choice if I shall call you Sir Aonghus or Chief MacCade since Sir Callum deemed it so. ”
His fingers brushed her cheek. “Call me any you wish as long as I stay at your side.”
“And I by yours.” She smiled up at him.
“There is one final surprise I secretly took the helm upon, with the king’s blessing.” He darted his eyes behind her.
She turned where he looked. A fresh tapestry hung upon the farthest stone wall; she had missed it when entering as she had only focused on the courtiers and threats.
Easing her way through the terrain filled by servants and clansmen and courtiers, she paused before the masterpiece that would aid in keeping the hall warmer.
“How has this come to be?” she asked in awe.
A nearby lady whose wimple matched the gray hairs peeking from beneath must have thought the question was directed at her and not her knight.
“Lady MacCade, quite intriguing – it is said to have been bestowed by someone in secret. A gift for our lord king in honor of the flower he has favored as the symbol to our Kingdom of Scotland and the Northman it forced from our shores, a…”
“Thistle.” She smiled at the word.
A gift not only for the king but for her. Her sneaky knight! It had to be from Aonghus. Her fingers reached out, touching the nubby fibers woven together upon the massive tapestry which seemed to swallow the colossal wall in its grandeur. How did he ever commission such a find?
Slowly, her eyes traveled higher and higher and higher…then things spun a bit; was that lightning flashing from the arrow slits? Her balance failed her when she fell rearward. Sleep welcomed her again, but this time terror ran in her blood, not calm.
Ugh! The stone floor would be a most unforgiving bed…her body was suddenly flying backward before the breath whooshed from her lungs after the air turned into arms about her waist. Thick as tree trunks but gentle as a feather. Aonghus.
***
“Summon the king’s physician!” Aonghus’s voice boomed through the great hall like thunder. He looked down at the lifeless body in his arms. A whisper came gentle as a breeze: “Keirah?”
What was wrong?! His heart hit his ribs when her eyes remained closed. Leaning forth, he pressed his cheek near her tiny nostrils. A breath graced his flesh, so he was able to draw one himself once more at the discovery. Carefully standing, he lifted her in his arms, then glared at Sir Sean.
“Why do you still stand before me? Summon the king’s physician! If he is not about, seek to have the barber surgeon sent to our chambers at once, and notify the king illness has claimed my lady.”
Giving a tight nod, Sir Sean vanished in a whirl of surcoat and chainmail. As Aonghus bolted down the passage, gasps sounded around him; he barked at one squatty courtier, “Make way!”
Once in the passage, he leapt the steps two at a time, reaching their chamber’s door.
Kicking it wide, he made his way toward their bed.
He gasped himself after getting a solid look at her – she was pale as snow.
Dammit! It was the strain of court. He should have left her at Castle MacCade with Alec and Deidre then journeyed back to speak with the king…
“Sir Aonghus?” The king’s physician appeared, gray and wrinkled and worried. He should be – to fail his lady would unleash his wrath and that of a king.
Aonghus held her hand. “My lady was simply admiring a tapestry and fainted.”
“Leave me the chamber for but a moment.” The physician approached, raising his satchel.
His fingers tightened on hers. Did he trust this Scot? He was an honorable sort. Looking down at the solemn, delicate features, he brushed his lips over her brow. No fever – good.
“Cluaran, I shall return in a moment.” Reluctantly he released her hand, as another shadow darkened the doorway.
“My lord king,” Aonghus greeted him somberly.
The eyes turned wide at spying Keirah’s state before they both sought the passageway. As soon as the door shut, the king questioned, “What strain has caused Lady Keirah to fall ill?”
Running his hand through his hair, he mused, “I do not know. Her spirits were high after discovering the tapestry.” A long-strained silence swallowed them.