Epilogue
The sound of a dog’s bark outside caught Elizabet’s attention. She knew that bark. It brought a smile to her lips. Heavy with child, she rose awkwardly to her feet. “Constance,” she said, “watch the baby for me, dearling.”
She didn’t have to ask twice.
Thirteen-year-old Constance was enamored with the children, doting on them. Broc’s little cousin was blossoming into a lovely young woman with hair as golden as her husband’s and eyes the same shade of blue as her brother Cameron’s.
“Oh, yea!” Constance exclaimed, and she leapt off the bed where two-year-old Maggie lay, babbling happily at the ceiling. She had been tickling the child’s feet.
Elizabet couldn’t help but laugh at Constance’s enthusiasm.
“Halloo, wee little Griffin!” Constance cooed at the baby. “Halloo!” She approached the child, making faces, and three-year-old Griffin happily stamped his little feet in the tub of water. He giggled when she pulled up her dress and stepped into the tub along with him.
Elizabet laughed and glanced heavenward, marveling at the course her life had taken.
Who would have thought that after growing up alone, without siblings, without even parents to speak of, she would end with two dogs, three children of her own, another on the way and an adopted daughter so sweet that she made their heart swell with joy.
“He so verra loves to be naked,” Constance observed, smiling down at her shameless little dark-haired son.
“So did someone else I know,” Broc assured her, as he came in the door. He stood in the doorway, watching his brood.
“Uncle Broc!” Constance exclaimed.
“Da! da!” Griffin shouted with glee and continued to dance about in the tub, splashing water everywhere.
Elizabet turned to her husband. Her heart still quickened at the sight of him. Even after all these years, the mere sound of his voice still took her breath away.
He lifted a brow, casting Elizabet a nod, and turned back to Constance, assuring her, “’Tis the truth. I held that bare little arse of yours in my arms far too many times, lass. I thought you would grow up nakey.”
“Uncle Broc!” Constance protested, making a face. “That is so verra disgusting!”
“Aye, but ’tis true, Constance. Ask your Aunt Elizabet.”
“Or ask Page,” Elizabet suggested, greeting her husband at the door, “she chased you about far more than I did.”
“I dinna believe you!” Constance exclaimed. But she knew it was true, because she couldn’t suppress a guilty grin.
Broc nodded, “Och, lass, I dinna think you wore clothes until you were twenty,” he remarked.
Constance rolled her eyes, giggling at his obvious exaggeration. “I’m only thirteen!” she declared.
Elizabet stifled her laughter and crooked a brow at her husband. “And where is Suisan?” she asked.
He wrapped his arms around her, turning her about so that he could hug her and place his hands upon her belly. “Suisan is outside riding the dog,” he disclosed.
Suisan was their eldest daughter, their firstborn, conceived the day of their vows.
She was her father’s joy, and her father clearly was hers.
She claimed to want to grow up to be just like her da.
And at seven, she much preferred wielding sticks as swords and galloping about upon the backs of tired old dogs to hanging about her mother’s skirts.
Her husband glanced over at Maggie lying upon the bed and whispered into Elizabet’s ear, “Have you any notion how beautiful your children are?”
She cast him a reproachful glance. “Are they not yours, as well?”
He winked at her. “Only when they are laughing,” he told her. “When they are crying, they are yours.”
She rolled her eyes and smacked him upon the thigh. “You are incorrigible!”
He hugged her then, holding her close, kissing her upon the cheek. “Och, woman, mayhap so, but do ye realize how much I love you?”
Elizabet sighed contentedly and leaned back upon her husband’s chest, savoring the quiet strength of his arms. She smiled. “Not as much as I love you!”
He shook her gently, growling low. “I beg to differ, woman!” he said. “Just look at how many children I gave you!”
“I bore them!” she reminded him.
He squeezed her gently. “Aye, well, I watched you bear them!” he countered, vying with her.
“You most certainly did not!” Elizabet argued. “You hid your eyes!”
He had the nerve to look wounded by her accusation. “Och,” he protested, kissing her upon the ear. “Only because I could not bear to see you in pain, wife.”
Elizabet laughed. That much was true. He hadn’t been able to bear her screams, though he’d threatened to kill the midwife if she did not allow him to remain within the house.
Despite her protest that it was unseemly, he’d paced the floor of her chamber with his hand upon his eyes. The very memory left her smiling.
“And what will you do this time?” she asked, patting her belly.
“I will not leave your side,” he swore. “Even if you curse me with every breath.”
Elizabet laughed. “I would never!”
He gave her a mock sigh. “Ah, but you did. You told me you’d rather I were a bugger and that if I dared ever touch you again you would wrap me up in my—”
Elizabet shushed him before he could speak it aloud before the children. Constance, for one, was listening with interest to their banter.
He bent to rest his chin upon her shoulder and patted her belly, too. “Any regrets?”
She shook her head with certainty. “Not a one.”
“I’m glad,” he whispered, and the warmth of his breath at her ear sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m a verra, verra happy man,” he declared.
And to think she might never have known how wonderful it was to be part of a family.
Elizabet glowed in his affection. Whenever she thought of how close she’d come to losing him, it still saddened her.
But as soon as such thoughts dared enter her mind, all she needed to do was look into the faces of her children or consider the gentle warmth of their home, and all melancholy thoughts were instantly banished.
Her dowry had built them a fine little house, and though she wasn’t surrounded by luxuries, her table was always laden with food and her house filled with laughter and friends.
And she was blessed with the greatest gift of all—love.
What greater reward in life was there than that?
The door opened suddenly, and in bounded Harpy along with Suisan. Suisan ran at once to the bed, leaping upon it to tickle her baby sister on the belly.
Harpy trotted over to Elizabet, wagging her tail wearily, no doubt grateful for the respite.
Elizabet patted her lovingly and silently thanked her for leading her to Broc. She sent another prayer of gratitude heavenward.
After all, if her husband hadn’t once attempted to steal her mother’s hound, she wouldn’t be standing here now with his loving arms around her.
Thank God for wayward dogs.