Epilogue
The next few days passed in a haze of joy, during which time Eliza wrote a letter to her sisters informing them of her upcoming marriage.
Dear Margot and Juliet,
I am writing to tell you about the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me!
I told you that Laird Duncan Sinclair was a decent man, but I have discovered that he is much, much more than that.
He is the best, most generous, brave, and loving man I have ever met.
He saved my life when I was threatened by some very bad men, but that is a story I can tell you next time we meet, which, I hope, will be soon.
Anyway, I hope you are both sitting down in case you faint when I tell you my next piece of news. I have fallen deeply in love with Duncan, and he has fallen in love with me—yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but it is true!
Now, brace yourselves for the best news of all.
We will be married at the beginning of September on my birthday, and I will become Lady Eliza Sinclair.
The people here still call me a “Sassenach,” and many are not overly fond of me, but I think I am gradually winning them over, especially since I have begun to learn to speak some Gaelic.
I have just started to make my wedding dress, and I have enclosed a little scrap of the fabric and a drawing of my design to give you an idea of what it looks like.
It should take me a few weeks to sew, and though I told Duncan that I would wear a sack if it meant we could be married tomorrow, he insisted that I deserved better.
He actually sent for a merchant who imports velvet, silk, and lace from the continent to come and see me.
I wish you could be with me on my special day, but I know Father will not let you come to see me. However, I know you will both be with me in spirit, and I will imagine you each standing by my side as I make my vows.
I must go now, but I will write soon.
I love and miss you both so much, my dear sisters,
Your very own,
Lizzie.
Eliza sealed the letter with the stamp of the Earldom of Harwick, but felt a grim satisfaction in knowing that it would be one of the last times she would have to put her father’s family name on a letter.
After her marriage, she would proudly seal her letters with the Sinclair crest and forget he ever existed.
Eliza gave the letter to the Captain of the Guard to arrange for its delivery, then went back to her chamber, where she had set aside a special corner as her work area.
Duncan had provided her with a big table on which to cut her fabric, and she was making good use of the material he had given her. She was happy to be her own modiste, since this was the best use of her talents and the project into which she could pour all her love.
Eliza had designed a plain but elegant dress in her favourite colour, deep crimson, trimmed with fine broderie Anglais lace. She knew it would be hard work, but it would all be worth it to see the look on Duncan’s face when she walked down the aisle.
It took two weeks to finish the wedding gown, even though Eliza spent just about every waking moment working on it.
She sewed seams then ripped them out and sewed them again, since she was a complete perfectionist and would not stop until everything was done to conform to her almost impossibly high standards.
At last, however, the simple, elegant dress was completed to her satisfaction, and Eliza stood in front of the mirror with a new, carefully vetted maid called Shona whom Duncan had employed especially to serve her.
She was a sturdy, no-nonsense, middle-aged woman with fair hair and fierce blue eyes, whose very presence struck fear into anyone who challenged her.
After Maisie, Eliza had been reluctant to trust anyone again, but she soon found that Shona was akin to a loyal and sometimes fierce guard dog, and after a while she began to feel safe with her.
Now, as Eliza looked at herself in the mirror, Shona draped a Sinclair tartan plaid over her shoulder and across her chest. She pinned it on with a silver brooch bearing the clan motto, Commit Thy Work to God.
“Ye look like a queen, Milady,” Shona said as she stood back to survey her mistress, smiling.
“Thank you, Shona,” Eliza said nervously. “I cannot stop shaking. I’m so nervous.”
“Show me the bride that isnae!” Shona said, laughing. “We were a’ the same on our weddin’ day, but ye are marryin’ a good man, Milady, so be at ease.”
After a few more moments of primping, they made their way to the church, and Shona left Eliza at the entrance with a warm, “Good luck, Milady.”
The church was full, even though Duncan had only invited his closest and most trusted friends, and none of Eliza’s family had been able to attend due to the cruel obstinacy of her father. However, every servant in the castle had been invited at Eliza’s insistence, and the pews were jammed.
Yet only one person mattered to Eliza, and as she walked slowly down the aisle, trying to calm her racing heart, she saw Duncan standing waiting for her at the altar, beaming at her.
In his clan finery, he was so very, very handsome that she could hardly focus on anything else.
His deep red hair glowed in the sunlight, his amber eyes were shining with love, and as he held his hand out to her, he murmured, “You are the loveliest woman I have ever seen, Eliza.”
Eliza could hardly speak, since her throat was choked with tears of happiness, some of which leaked from her eyes as she looked up at Duncan.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He leaned forward and kissed her tears away, then they turned to the minister, who read the blessing and proceeded with the ceremony.
When they came to the vows, Duncan knelt down on one knee and carefully slid his mother’s gold wedding ring onto her finger.
He said lovingly, “Eliza, you are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me, and I love you more than words can ever say. You almost gave your life for me, and for that, I owe you everything. I am honoured to be the man who will love you and protect you for the rest of our lives. Will you be my wife?”
“Yes, Duncan, my love, I will,” Eliza replied with a radiant smile. “I am honoured to be marrying you, and if we are blessed with children, I vow to be the best wife and mother I can be.”
Then she produced a small square of tartan from a pocket of her dress and pinned it to his kilt. It was embroidered with their intertwined initials.
“With this, I give you everything I have, and all that I am. Will you be my husband, Duncan?”
“Of course I will,” he replied, kissing her.
The minister smiled at them both as he pronounced them husband and wife, then they made their way back into the Great Hall, where the formality of the wedding feast had to be endured.
Duncan looked down at the little patch of fabric on his kilt. “Did you make this, Eliza?” he asked.
“I did,” she replied. “After all, a wife must look after her husband.”
Duncan laughed softly and pulled Eliza into his arms. “I am so lucky to have found you, Lady Sinclair,” he said in wonder. “And your dress is lovely. I cannot wait to take it off, though.” His eyes were twinkling with mischief.
Eliza giggled. “Remember, we have to be polite to our guests. Your wishes will have to wait.”
Neither Eliza nor Duncan were particularly interested in eating, but were obliged to do so as a courtesy to their guests, so they put on a brave face and did their duty as hosts.
When the dancing began, they took their places on the floor first and started with the waltz that Duncan had requested. Eliza had never been quite at ease with the intimacy of the dance, but since she was with her husband, it felt smooth, easy, and right.
When the Scottish country dances began, the servants and their families joined in.
Spirits rose high; there was no status or rank, and the kitchen maids danced with Lairds, gentlemen farmers and rich merchants.
The ladies danced with stable hands and guards, the ale flowed, children played and ran around the Great Hall, and there was a general atmosphere of freedom and bonhomie.
One of the manservants, a small, sturdy groom, stood on the table and called for silence while he made a toast.
“Tae Laird an’ Lady Sinclair! May they have health an’ happiness for the rest o’ their lives! Sláinte Mhath!”
“Sláinte Mhath!” came the joyful chorus.
“This is exactly how I wanted it to be,” Duncan said contentedly as he watched the children playing by the fire.
Every one of them had been given a new toy by the Laird and Lady, and they were all making the most of their gifts.
“I am so happy, Duncan,” Eliza breathed.
“I can think of something even better, though.” Duncan’s voice was mischievous, and his eyes twinkled wickedly.
Eliza giggled. “Really, My Laird? Please show me.”
“Of course, My Lady Wife,” Duncan said, bowing.
When Eliza stood up, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the Great Hall to the accompaniment of a massive cheer and a few lewd remarks from behind them.
“All is well,” Eliza said, smiling as she laid back in Duncan’s arms to enjoy the ride to his chamber.
“Not yet,” he replied with a cheeky smirk, “but it soon will be.”
The extremely masculine Laird’s room had been filled with flowers to welcome their arrival, and their fresh fragrance greeted Eliza and Duncan as they entered.
Eliza breathed it in, knowing that this was the scent that would always remind her of their wedding day, their solemn commitment, their love.
Duncan took no time to savour it, however; he was too impatient to wait, so he set to work divesting Eliza of her dress as soon as they entered. She put up no resistance, and in a few moments the beautiful silk and velvet dress was a crumpled heap on the floor.
He was about to start on her chemise when she smacked his hand away. Duncan looked rather startled, but Eliza kissed him and laid a hand on the belt of his kilt.
“My turn,” she said wickedly.
Like most Scottish men, Duncan wore nothing underneath his kilt, and Eliza watched with relish as the garment dropped to the floor and Duncan’s large erection sprang out to greet her.
Eliza raised her eyebrows in appreciation. She reached out to take hold of his shaft to pump it up and down, causing Duncan to groan with pleasure.
“That feels so good,” he breathed.
Eliza knelt on the floor and took him in her mouth, then began to suck and swirl her tongue around him. Duncan plunged his hands into the dark mass of her hair and threw his head back, but a moment later he withdrew from her mouth, gasping.
“Stop, Eliza,” he groaned. “I want us to be together as husband and wife—we have worked so hard for this.”
Then he smiled and swept her into his arms, laying her gently on the bed which now belonged to both of them. He stripped off his shirt then dealt with Eliza’s chemise by tearing it down the front, but beyond a startled little gasp, she made no objection. In truth, she was as desperate as he was.
Duncan could hardly believe what was happening as he kissed Eliza’s lips, moved down to her throat, then began to suckle the luscious breasts he had dreamed about since their last encounter. This woman, this loving, generous, sensual woman, was his at last; his wife, his companion, his lover.
He felt Eliza arch under him, heard her moans of pleasure, and although his every male instinct told him to plunge inside her and satisfy himself, he could not be so selfish.
This was their wedding night, a unique time that would never come again, and he wanted to make it so special for Eliza that she would remember it forever.
Eliza felt the sweet pulse between her legs begin to throb, and as Duncan kissed his way down to her core, the pleasure was so intense that she cried out, writhing on the bed as she felt his tongue sweep through her womanly folds.
Then he began to tease her, sucking and nibbling her sweetest spot until the sensation almost overwhelmed her.
A moment later, she felt Duncan’s fingers enter her, pushing in and out gently, while pleasuring her little pearl with his thumb.
He looked up at her and asked, “Does that feel good, my love?”
“Oh, god, yes!” Eliza answered breathlessly. “So good. Don’t stop, Duncan.”
However, a moment later, he withdrew his hand and kissed her hungrily. Eliza tasted herself on his lips and licked them. He followed the movement of her tongue and smiled at her.
“You taste so sweet—you taste of all the love in the world, Eliza.”
“Stop talking and make me your wife, Duncan,” Eliza whispered.
Duncan needed no second bidding. He entered Eliza with one thrust and looked into her eyes as he withdrew, then plunged in even harder, sheathing himself to the hilt, loving the feeling of her sweet, tight flesh closing around him.
Eliza wrapped her legs around his hips and began to move in time with him, loving the thrilling feeling of ascending to the peak of pleasure with the shaft of his manhood inside her, driving her towards it.
She cupped her hands over Duncan’s tight, muscled buttocks, buried her face in the silky auburn hair on his chest and breathed in the earthy musk of his skin that was purely, quintessentially male.
She was in a haze of delight that was carrying her higher and still higher until at last she stood on the peak and was swept away by a tide of rapture. Eliza felt Duncan shudder against her as his climax hit him, but he did not withdraw from her as he had before, but spilled his seed inside her.
Then he kissed her and looked into her eyes with so much love that Eliza felt tears threatening.
“Now you are mine,” Duncan said softly.
“And you are mine,” Eliza replied. “My husband, my life.”
Duncan kissed her again and moved to withdraw from her, but Eliza tightened her legs around his hips.
“You are not leaving me yet. Stay where you are until I let you go.” She gave him a fierce frown.
He laughed. “Of course not, dear wife,” he said in a mock-penitent voice.
Eliza sighed and smiled. “I love to see you obey,” she said happily, repeating the words he had said to her before.
Thank you for reading my story!