Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
Francesca shifted in her chair, trying to find a comfortable position that accommodated her swollen belly. At six months pregnant, comfort was becoming increasingly elusive—especially when sitting in the library’s ornate but decidedly unforgiving furniture.
“Stop fidgeting, dear,” Lady Gretchen said without looking up from her embroidery. “You’ll wear yourself out before the babe even arrives.”
“I’m not fidgeting. I’m attempting to exist in a body that no longer seems to belong to me.” Francesca accepted the tea her aunt poured, cradling the warm cup in both hands. “How did you bear this, Aunt? Surely you must have some wisdom about being this ungainly.”
“I never had children, as you well know. But I watched your mother endure it when you and Violet were born.” Lady Gretchen’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “She complained far more than you do—I can tell you that much.”
“That’s not particularly comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to make you feel superior to Petunia, which always seems to improve your mood.”
Francesca laughed despite herself, then gasped as the baby kicked enthusiastically against her ribs. “This child is going to be a terror. I can already tell.”
“Takes after its father, then.”
“Declan is not a terror.”
“No, he’s merely the most intimidating man in the Highlands who happens to go soft as butter the moment you enter a room.
” Lady Gretchen set down her embroidery with a satisfied smile.
“It’s quite entertaining to watch, actually.
The fearsome Laird MacGhee, reduced to hovering like a worried mother hen. ”
As if summoned by his name, the study door opened, and Declan appeared, his grey eyes immediately seeking out Francesca with that now-familiar concern.
“Ye should be restin’,” he said, moving to her side. “The healer said ye should always rest.”
“The healer said I should remain active and engaged, not lock myself in our chamber like an invalid.” But she softened the rebuke by taking his offered hand, letting him help her to her feet.
“Though I admit, I wouldn’t mind moving to the solar.
These chairs were designed by someone who hated pregnant women. ”
“Then to the solar we’ll go.” He kept his arm around her waist, supporting her weight as they walked. Lady Gretchen followed with an indulgent smile, gathering her embroidery.
The solar had become even more of a family haven in recent months.
Where once it had been merely comfortable, it was now positively overrun with evidence of their life together—Eloise’s drawings covering one wall, Bluebell’s elaborate hutch in the corner, and cat toys scattered across the hearth rug.
Speaking of which—
“Careful!” Francesca grabbed Declan’s arm as Declan, the cat, darted between his feet, chasing what appeared to be a ball of yarn. Flora followed close behind, the two of them tumbling over each other in their enthusiasm.
“Those damned cats,” Declan muttered, but there was no real heat in it. He’d grown as attached to the creatures as everyone else, though he’d never admit it aloud.
“Language,” Francesca chided, settling onto the plush sofa with relief. “Eloise will hear you.”
“Eloise is currently in the courtyard, teaching Bluebell to navigate an obstacle course she’s constructed.” Lady Gretchen claimed the chair nearest the fire. “I saw her on my way in. That child has more energy than should be humanly possible.”
“She’s making up for lost time.” Francesca’s hand drifted to her belly, rubbing absently. “After everything she went through, I’m grateful she can just be a child again.”
“Thanks to you both.” Lady Gretchen’s voice softened. “You’ve given her something precious—safety and love. That’s no small gift.”
Before Francesca could respond, the solar door burst open, and Eloise rushed in, her face flushed with excitement. Bluebell hopped along behind her, having apparently escaped whatever obstacle course he’d been subjected to.
“Mama! Da!” She skidded to a stop in front of them, bouncing on her toes. “You have to come see what Bluebell can do now! He can jump through TWO hoops in a row!”
“That’s very impressive, darling.” Francesca smiled at her enthusiasm. “But perhaps we could see it later? Your father and I were just planning on sitting and actually resting.”
“Fraser said rabbits are smarter than people think. He told me if we had a dog, Bluebell could teach it tricks!”
“When did Fraser tell ye all this?”
“Just before he left. He said dogs make friends easily with other animals, and even better company than cats or rabbits.” Eloise’s eyes went wide with hope. “Can we get a dog? Please? I promise I’ll take care of it!”
“Absolutely nae,” Declan said firmly. “We already have a rabbit and two cats. That’s quite enough animals.”
“But a dog would be different! It could protect us and go on walks and sleep in my room.”
“The rabbit already sleeps in yer room. Where exactly would a dog fit?”
“At the foot of my bed! Or in the corner! Dogs don’t need much space!” Eloise pressed her advantage with the determination of a seasoned negotiator. “And Great-Aunt Watson says every proper Highland family has at least one dog.”
“I said no such thing,” Lady Gretchen protested, but her lips twitched with amusement.
“You said the McGregors have three dogs, and they’re a proper Highland family.”
“That’s nae quite true.”
“Please?” Eloise deployed her most effective weapon, enormous green eyes filled with pleading hope. “I’ll be so good. I’ll do all my lessons without complaining. I’ll even eat my vegetables!”
Francesca watched her husband’s resolve crumble in real time. The fearsome Laird MacGhee, defeated by a nine-year-old girl and her devastating puppy-dog eyes.
“We’ll discuss it,” he said finally, which everyone present knew meant yes.
Eloise squealed with delight, throwing her arms around his legs. “Thank you, Da! You’re the best father in all of Scotland!”
“I said we’d discuss it, nae that ye could have one.”
But Eloise was already racing from the room, presumably to tell Bluebell and the kittens about their potential new sibling. Declan looked at Francesca with an expression of helpless resignation.
“Daenae say it,” he warned.
“Say what? That you’re completely wrapped around her finger?”
“Aye, that.”
“But it’s true.” She reached for his hand, pulling him down beside her on the sofa. “And it’s one of the things I love most about you. You pretend to be stern, but the moment she asks for something, you can’t help but give in.”
“She’s manipulative.”
“She’s nine.”
“Same thing.”
Lady Gretchen laughed, rising from her chair. “On that note, I think I’ll take my tea elsewhere. You two clearly need some time alone.” She paused at the door. “Though do try to remember you’re in the solar, not your private chamber. Propriety still matters, even in marriage.”
After she left, Francesca leaned against Declan’s side, feeling the solid warmth of him. His arm came around her shoulders automatically, careful not to press against her belly.
“How are ye feelin’?” he asked quietly. “Truly?”
“Tired. Uncomfortable. Excited. Terrified.” She looked up at him. “Ready for this baby to arrive, but also wanting to hold onto these last few months of just the three of us.”
“Four,” he corrected. “Daenae forget Fraser. He’s practically part of this family.”
Fraser’s voice carried from the corridor. “Is the Laird receivin’ visitors, or is he too busy being domesticated?”
“Come in, ye irritatin’ bastard,” Declan called, though his tone was fond.
Fraser entered with his usual easy confidence, but Francesca noticed the tension around his eyes, the way his smile didn’t quite reach them.
“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.
“Nothing’s wrong, exactly.” Fraser dropped into the chair Lady Gretchen had vacated. “Just got word from home. Malcolm needs me back at Clan McArthur for a spell. Some border disputes with the Campbells that require attention.”
Declan straightened, immediately alert. “Serious disputes?”
“Potentially. Ye ken how the Campbells are, always looking for an excuse to expand their territory.” Fraser’s expression hardened slightly. “Malcolm wants me there to help negotiate. Or intimidate. Probably both.”
“How long will ye be gone?”
“A few weeks. Maybe a month.” Fraser looked between them, his gaze lingering on Francesca’s belly. “I’d hoped to be here when the bairn arrives, but I daenae ken.”
“Family comes first,” Declan said firmly. “Ye need to go. The clan needs ye.”
“Aye.” Fraser stood, moving to clasp Declan’s shoulder. “But if ye need me, if anythin’ happens with Francesca or the babe, send word immediately. I’ll come back.”
“I ken ye will.” Declan embraced his cousin briefly. “Be safe, Fraser. And tell Malcolm if he needs MacGhee support, he only has to ask.”
“I will.” Fraser turned to Francesca, his expression softening. “Take care of him, Me Lady. Someone has to make sure he doesnae work himself to death while I’m gone.”
“I’ll do my best,” she promised. “Though you know how stubborn he is.”
“Aye, I do.” Fraser’s grin returned briefly. “But ye’re the only person alive who can make him see reason. That’s worth more than all the warriors in the Highlands.”
After Fraser left with promises to return soon, Declan helped Francesca back to their chamber. Evening had fallen, painting the sky in shades of purple and gold through their window.
“Are you worried?” she asked as he helped her out of her day dress. “About Fraser and the Campbells?”
“A bit. Border disputes can turn ugly fast.” His hands were gentle as they unlaced her stays. “But Fraser can handle himself. And Malcolm is a good laird, even if he and I daenae always see eye to eye.”
“Still. You’ll miss him.”
“Aye.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “He’s been me constant these past years. Me anchor when everythin’ else felt uncertain.”
“You have us now to fill up that space.”