Epilogue #2
The thought filled her with fierce joy. She pressed her face against his chest to muffle the sob that wanted to escape.
“What is it?” Erik asked, his hand stroking her hair. “Did I hurt ye?”
“Nay.” She lifted her head. “I’m just… overwhelmed. By how different me life is from what I imagined.” She laughed wetly. “I was supposed tae hate ye. Instead, I fell so completely in love with ye that I can barely remember me life before ye were in it.”
Erik’s expression went soft and fierce. He wiped away her tears with his thumbs.
“Then we’re even,” he said gruffly. “Because ye gave me back somethin’ I thought I’d lost ferever, little bird. Ye gave me hope.”
They lay tangled together as afternoon faded, trading soft kisses. Erik’s hand kept returning to her stomach—protective and wondering. Claricia found herself doing the same, imagining what might be growing there. A tiny spark of life. A future made flesh.
A sharp knock at the door shattered their peace.
“Me jarl!” Aksel’s voice, urgent. “A messenger from the king. Says it cannae wait.”
Erik cursed softly, pressing a kiss to Claricia’s forehead before reluctantly disentangling himself. He pulled on trousers and a loose tunic while Claricia wrapped herself in a robe, curiosity overriding her annoyance at the interruption.
The messenger was travel-stained and weary, but his eyes were sharp as he bowed. “Me jarl. Me lady. I bring word from King Alexander.”
He handed over a sealed letter, the royal crest pressed into red wax. Erik broke the seal and read, his expression growing more serious with each line.
“What is it?” Claricia asked, worry beginning to coil in her belly.
Erik looked up, and something complicated flickered through his eyes—resignation mixed with grim humor. “The king requests a gatherin’ of the pact jarls. A council meetin’.”
“When?”
“Two months.” Erik’s mouth twisted. “He wants tae discuss the next phase of his grand design fer peace, apparently.”
Claricia moved to his side, reading over his shoulder. The letter was formal but vague, commanding their presence without explaining why—typical of Alexander’s style. A summons wrapped in courteous language but leaving no room for refusal.
“D’ye think he’s plannin’ another marriage already?” she asked quietly.
“Possibly.” Erik pulled her close. “Or perhaps he simply wants tae parade us about like prize horses, showin’ the Highland lairds that his pact is workin’.” His arms tightened around her. “Whatever his reason, we’ll go. Show the court that forced vows can become true unions.”
“And if he announces another marriage there?”
“Then we’ll stand beside whichever poor bastard draws the short straw this time,” Erik said dryly. “Show him there’s hope even when the king plays matchmaker.”
Claricia covered his hand with her own, feeling the strength and warmth of his palm against her belly. Too early to know anything for certain, but already she felt different somehow. Changed by the choice they’d made together.
“Aye,” she agreed softly. “And time tae see what blessin’s we’ve created.”
They stood wrapped in each other as twilight deepened outside their window. Somewhere, four more Viking jarls waited for their own turns at the altar, their own chances at unexpected happiness.
But those were their stories to tell.
This one—Claricia and Erik’s—had already found its happy ending. A forced marriage that became a true union. Enemies who became lovers. Two broken people who’d somehow made each other whole.
Everything else was just the beginning of forever.
“Come back tae bed,” Claricia whispered, tugging him toward the rumpled sheets. “We have weeks before we need tae worry about the king’s court. I’d rather spend them practicin’ fer that bairn ye want so badly.”
Erik’s smile was pure sin and promise. “Ye’ll be the death of me, woman.”
“Nay.” She pulled him down into their bed, both of them laughing and reaching for each other with hands that knew every curve and hollow.
“I’ll be the life of ye. The home and heart and hope ye thought ye’d lost. And if the gods are kind…
” Her hand found his, guiding it back to her stomach.
“Maybe soon, I’ll be the mother of yer bairns too. ”
His kiss was answer enough.
As they came together again—slower this time, savoring—Claricia sent up a silent prayer of gratitude. She’d been sent to Skye as a pawn in the king’s game, a sacrifice to purchase peace.
Instead, she’d found love. Found home. Found the other half of her soul in the gray-blue eyes of a Viking warrior who’d needed her just as desperately as she’d needed him.
And if that wasn’t magic, she didn’t know what was.
But there’s more…
Beneath the calm after battle, new life and new duty begin to take root. When the Lairds’ Pact is called again, Erik and Claricia’s future will never be the same. Discover what awaits them in the Extended Epilogue.