Chapter 37
CHAPTER 37
T wo Years Later.
The castle courtyard looked like a scene from a medieval battle—if medieval battles involved one rogue toddler, two escaped goats, and one frantic husband waving a half-eaten scone as bait.
"Aisling!" Ronan hollered across the courtyard, hair disheveled, shirt half-untucked. "Your daughter is leading a rebellion!"
" Our daughter?" Aisling called back from the kitchen doorway, cradling a cup of tea. "Funny. She only claims me when she's being adorable!"
Their one-year-old, red curls flying wild, was currently chasing Céilí's latest offspring around the yard, squealing with delight.
“Maeve Noreen,” Ronan called. “Come to Daddy.”
The little girl squealed and ran in the opposite direction.
They had agreed to name her after Aisling’s mother and grandmother since they brought them together in a way no one expected. All the pain of the past had now been laid to rest. And sometimes Aisling thought she could hear her mother’s voice in the wee hours of the night.
Behind her, the two goats—Céilí and her equally mischievous son, Púca—bounded after the toddler as if leading a parade of pure, unfiltered chaos.
Ronan finally caught their daughter, lifting her like a triumphant warrior. She giggled, drooled on his shoulder, and immediately tried to climb back down.
Paddy, watching from a safe distance with a pint in hand, chuckled. "She's a true O'Byrne, that one. Wild and fearless."
Séamus shook his head. “Oh, no, that child is all Gallagher. She’s going to be a beauty.”
Bríd, perched on a nearby bench, knitting something suspiciously goat-sized, nodded. "And stubborn as her father."
Aisling just smiled, heart swelling to the point of aching.
The castle was a little crazier these days.
A little louder.
A little messier.
But it was full.
Full of love.
Full of laughter.
Full of life.
Exactly the way it was always meant to be.
Inheriting a Scottish Castle Arriving January 2026