Epilogue
Kayden woke up with a start. He opened his eyes, seeking the warmth in his arms.
Lilliana lay asleep, her long lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she dreamed. He reached up and ran a finger along her jaw, enjoying the softness of her skin and the feel of her next to him.
These last few days had been a discovery, and he could not help but feel excited for what was to come. His eyes drifted to the windows. Even though they were quite thick, a little light peeked through at the edges, letting him know that it was still very early and the sky was just lightening.
He thought about getting up, but he could not make himself do it. Instead, his arms tightened around Lilliana, pulling her closer.
She stirred, squirming in his arms, and he looked down to see her lashes fluttering as she fought sleep. He ran a hand down her spine soothingly, willing her to fall back asleep. Instead, her eyes flew open and met his.
He felt her tense body relax slowly, and she smiled.
“Good morning,” she murmured hoarsely.
He smiled back at her. “Madainn mhath, me dear. How did ye sleep?”
She stretched lazily, still smiling. “I slept very well, thank you,” she said before nestling back into his side. “Especially after what you told me last night.”
“What do ye mean?”
She gave him a coy look. “You know, what you said about what we have being special.”
He raised an eyebrow. “But surely ye kent that?”
She tilted her head to the side like a puzzled puppy. “How would I know that?”
He took a deep breath. She was right. Being a green girl, she had not been exposed to physical intimacy. She’d just assumed what they had was normal.
“Ye are right. I apologize.”
She raised her head. “You apologize? Surely hell has frozen over.”
He snorted. “It isnae that rare,” he protested.
“Well, I surely have never heard it,” she teased.
“Ye exaggerate.”
She got up on her elbow, smiling at him. “Fine then, tell me another time you apologized to me.”
He stared at her for a long time. “Ye cannae expect me to remember every conversation we had,” he said while she burst into laughter.
“Then my point stands.” She grinned smugly at him.
He reached up and planted a light kiss on her lips, just to fluster her, and grinned when he succeeded.
She swatted him on the chest and then lay down on it with a contented sigh. “You know, my life would be absolutely perfect right now if I could see my sisters.”
He covered her hand with his, caressing it gently. “Tell me more about them.”
She smiled. “Well, as I said before, there’s Cecily,” she said enthusiastically. “She’s my older sister. You’d like her.”
Kayden smiled. “I’m sure she’s wonderful.”
“She is. Cici and I are so close. We support each other, and she’s so kind. She’s forever scolding me for angering our father because she’s much better than me… always wanting to please him.” She sighed.
“While ye’re headstrong and opinionated,” Kayden teased as he stroked her hair.
“I am. That’s why Father sent me here, I suppose.”
“And I, for one, am very glad that he did.”
Lilliana’s smile widened. “Even though Cici is probably much lovelier than I? With very womanly curves?”
He squinted down at her. “I like yer curves. They are very… comely and inviting.” His arm tightened around her waist as she settled contentedly against him. “Ye miss them,” he said.
“Yes, I do. Both Cici and Jane. Jane is my younger sister.”
“Mmm. Tell me more.”
“Well, Cici and I support each other, but Jane is my little sweetheart, so sweet and kind. She’s always talking excitedly about being a bride and getting married and all that. Wants to start her own family as soon as possible.”
Kayden grinned, rubbing his chin against her hair. “And I wager ye cannae wait to be an aunt.”
Lilliana shrugged. “She makes me excited about it, I won’t lie.” She peered up at him. “I also want them to be aunties to my children.”
“And they will. Ye can invite them to visit if ye like now that the danger’s passed.”
“I would like that.” She sat up so she could look him in the eye. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Why would I mind? I, too, want to meet me new sisters.”
Lilliana’s mouth turned down.
“But now is the time to look to the future and not the past,” Kayden added.
She nodded. “Yes, I suppose it is. I’ve been thinking about that.”
He smirked at her. “Oh? Ye have?”
“Yes. I was thinking that I’d like to build a permanent structure at the village—an apothecary, if you will—where villagers can come and get whatever herbs they need and where I can see patients maybe once or twice a week.”
He inclined his head, thinking, and then nodded. “That is an excellent idea.”
Her face lit up. “You think so?”
“Of course. I should have thought of it before.”
She jumped up and down on the bed in excitement.
“Oh, that’s so wonderful. In the same vein, I would like to recruit a couple of maids who will dedicate their time to tending the herbal garden so we can have supplies all year round.
I want to build a hothouse. Now I know that it is expensive, so I was thinking of using my dowry for that. ”
“Daenae be ridiculous. Yer dowry is yers to do with as ye please. I’ll have yer hothouse built.”
She blinked at him. “Are you sure? I truly don’t mind.”
“I am.”
She smiled. “Alright,” she said softly. “You can help set up the hothouse for me.”
He inclined his head. “I would be much obliged,” he said wryly.
With a sigh, she lay back down on his chest. He stroked her naked back, drawing patterns with his fingers as they lay in contented silence.
“I love ye. Ye ken that, do ye nae?”
She lifted her head to look at him. “I love you too.”
“I’m glad for it,” he said, reaching up and pressing his lips to hers.
That afternoon, the castle had resumed its familiar rhythm, but it was lighter now. Less strained. The corridors carried more laughter than whispers.
The air outside was crisp but bright, the sort of autumn day that promised harvest and celebration rather than hardship. Kayden insisted that they take their writing to the gardens instead of remaining within the stone walls.
“Fresh air breeds better decisions,” he said.
Lilliana followed, her skirts brushing fallen leaves, Bramble weaving between her ankles with regal entitlement.
They settled at a wooden table near the herb beds she had expanded since summer. Lavender swayed in soft clusters. Rosemary perfumed the air. Beyond the low wall, the hills rolled wide and golden beneath the afternoon sun.
Lilliana dipped her quill first.
“To Cecily,” she murmured as she wrote, lips curving with fondness. “I must tell her everything.”
“Everything?” Kayden asked from across the table, sealing a letter with dark wax.
She glanced up at him. “Everything worth telling.”
He raised an eyebrow but did not press her. He himself was penning invitations, not only to neighboring lairds but also to smaller landholders and tenants, summoning them to what he intended to call the Michaelmas Harvest Gathering.
It was not simply a feast. It was a declaration.
Malgrave Castle was stable. McGill was unified. The clan was no longer bleeding from within.
“You are inviting them all?” Lilliana asked as she sanded her letter.
“Aye,” he replied. “If they come, we strengthen ties. If they refuse, we ken where they stand.”
She studied him thoughtfully. “You think some will refuse?”
“Some always do.”
She finished writing the letter and set it aside carefully before beginning another.
“To Jane,” she whispered with a smile. “She will demand every detail.”
Kayden’s mouth curved faintly. “And will she receive them?”
Lilliana paused mid-stroke, then looked at him from beneath her lashes. “She will receive… appropriate details.”
His shoulders shook once with silent amusement.“And yer faither?” he asked.
She stiffened slightly, but it was enough for him to notice.
“I am writing to him separately,” she said, returning to her letter.
“Separately?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
He leaned back in his chair, studying her with open curiosity. “And why is that?”
She dipped her quill again, her lips twitching.
“Because,” she said carefully, “there are certain matters regarding my married life that my sisters may appreciate, but my father most certainly will not.”
Kayden blinked once. Then realization dawned on him.
A low laugh escaped him, rich and unrestrained.
“Ah,” he drawled, “those matters.”
She refused to look up, though her cheeks pinkened charmingly.
“I will not,” she continued primly, “subject Papa to accounts of conjugal bliss.”
He laughed outright then, leaning forward on his elbows. “Conjugal bliss?” he repeated.
She shot him a warning look. “I am a respectable lady,” she declared.
“Aye,” he agreed solemnly. “A thoroughly respectable lady.”
Her foot nudged his beneath the table.
“And I shall tell him,” she added loftily, “that we are well. That the clan thrives. That his daughter has not been eaten by barbarians.”
“Pity,” Kayden murmured. “He might have enjoyed that image.”
She swatted at his sleeve.
He returned to his letters, though his expression remained warm.
One by one, he addressed neighboring lairds. He wrote with careful diplomacy, offering cooperation, trade agreements, and shared grazing rights for the winter months.
And then he paused. His hand hovered over the final piece of parchment.
Lilliana noticed. “Is that the last letter?” she asked.
“Aye.”
He began writing the name slowly.
MacNairn.
The name hung between them like a memory not yet spoken aloud. She watched his expression shift, not to anger, but to something steadier. Thoughtful.
“I did not realize you would invite him,” she said gently.
Kayden sanded the letter before answering. “It is important to mend fences before the owner kens they are broken.”
She smiled faintly. “That sounds like wisdom borrowed from Old Fergus.”
“It is,” he admitted. “And he is rarely wrong.”
She folded her letters carefully, tying each one with ribbon.
“You are extending peace?” she asked.
“I am extending stability,” he corrected quietly. “Peace is what follows if we are fortunate.”
She rose then, coming around the table to stand beside him. Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder as she read the last lines over his arm.
His script was strong and deliberate. No groveling. No accusation. Simply an invitation.
“You have changed,” she said softly.
He tilted his head slightly. “Have I?”
“Yes.”
“How so?”
“You look outward now,” she said. “Not only inward.”
He covered her hand with his. “And ye,” he said, “nay longer look as though ye are planning to escape.”
She laughed quietly. “Perhaps I was once,” she admitted.
He rose then, pushing his chair back and offering her his arm without ceremony. “Walk with me,” he said.
They left the sealed letters on the table to be picked up by the messenger, and wandered deeper into the gardens. Rows of late cabbages swelled beneath broad leaves. Pumpkins sat heavy on the vine. Apple trees bowed with fruit.
“It will be a fine harvest,” Lilliana observed.
“Aye,” Kayden agreed. “We will make it a gathering to remember.”
She looked up at him. “What shall we include?”
“Music,” he said at once. “Dancing. Ale enough to drown Cameron.”
She laughed. “And perhaps,” she added thoughtfully, “a tour of the gardens. Let the villagers see what grows here. Let them know that it belongs to them too.”
He nodded. “We will make it so.”
They reached the far wall overlooking the valley below. Smoke curled lazily from the chimneys in the distance.
Lilliana rested both hands on the stone.
“Do you ever think,” she asked quietly, “how close all of this came to ruin?”
“Aye,” he said honestly.
“And does it frighten you?”
“It reminds me that nothing holds unless we hold it together.”
She slipped her hand into his. “Then we shall hold it together,” she said firmly.
He turned towards her, studying her face. It was no longer uncertain, no longer searching, but sure.
“Ye are a McGill now,” he murmured.
“And you,” she replied, “are mine.”
He smiled slowly at that.
Below them, somewhere near the lower fields, laughter rose, bright and unburdened.
Kayden drew her closer, pressing a kiss to her hair.
“We have much to build,” he said.
“Aye,” she agreed softly. “And time to build it.”
The wind moved gently through the gardens, carrying the scent of apples and lavender.
The future no longer felt like something looming beyond the hills. It felt like something already planted.
And growing.