Epilogue
ONE MONTH LATER
“Victoria! Victoria! Oh, I thought you weren’t coming!” Melody cried, almost stumbling down the steps of the keep.
“Wasn’t coming? The only way I would have missed your wedding, Melody, would be if I were dead and in my grave!”
Victoria clambered slowly and gracelessly out of her carriage. It was the only way she could get around these days.
Not for much longer, though. Her belly, round and heavy, jutted out underneath her dress. Arran appeared beside her at once, his face fixed in concern.
“Careful, love,” he admonished, taking her arm. “Go slowly. Melody, lass, is that yer weddin’ gown? Isn it nae meant to be a surprise?”
“Oh, this? I suppose so,” Melody laughed, smoothing down the bodice of her gown.
It was a simple dress, pale green, and a lighter fabric than she was used to wearing.
Sophie had wanted her to wear matching slippers in the same pale green, dotted with embroidery, but she’d insisted upon wearing sturdy boots instead.
“Where is everybody?” Arran added, peering with a frown around the empty courtyard.
“In the Keep MacDean kirk,” came a voice from the top of the stairs. “In the same place that Melody ought to be. The weddin’, lass, the weddin’!”
They twisted to look up at Sophie, dressed in her best, leaning heavily on her cane, and grinning down at them.
“Melody can be late if she likes,” Victoria shot back. “It is her wedding day, after all.”
This was an undeniable point.
“Well, I wasn’t going to get married without my sister, was I?” Melody responded, laughing. “Arran, you can escort Sophie to the kirk, and I’ll go with my sister.”
Arran nodded, his eyes bright with amusement. Sophie demanded loudly that he come take her arm and show her to the kirk. Their voices trailed away, leaving Melody with her sister.
Sophie drew Melody’s arm through hers, holding her tight.
“It’s a pity Papa couldn’t come to the wedding,” she murmured.
Melody bit her lip. “Yes, I know. Still, I never imagined he would. He… he sent his regards, and a gift, and that’s fairly nice.”
“I think he’ll visit soon. As soon as grandchildren come.”
Melody allowed herself a small smile. “Yes, I agree. Do you know, my last memory of Papa is of him standing on the front steps as Callum helped me into our carriage. Papa didn’t look concerned or angry, just a little annoyed.”
“He loves us, I suppose, but not everyone is like Arran,” she added, patting her own rounded stomach. “Arran cannot wait to be a papa.”
Melody thought of the sketch she’d made of Callum, the one of him holding two babies and smiling. It hung on the walls of her room, and once they were married, Callum wanted her to paint a proper portrait of it. She smiled.
“Nor can Callum, I think.”
They reached the closed door to the kirk. The old kirk formed part of the keep, so that the keep inhabitants did not have to leave the walls of Keep MacDean when they wished to worship. Inside, Melody could hear the chatter of voices.
She heard Kat’s voice, loud and confident.
She hoped that Kat would talk to Emma—who had come all the way from London for the wedding—as the two seemed likely to be friends.
Emma had carried a brief but sincere note from the two Misses Fitzwilliam, although Melody would always think of them as the Marzipan Twins.
“I want to escort you down the aisle, if you’ll have me,” Victoria said firmly, cutting into Melody’s thoughts.
“And don’t be too hurt at Papa not coming.
I think he worries that he has not cared for us enough, that this is somehow a failing of his.
He’ll come round with time. But today, Melody, is about you. ”
“At one time, I would have been sick with fear at the idea of a wedding,” Melody confessed with a short laugh. “But now I feel nothing but joy and excitement.”
“As you should,” Victoria responded staunchly, offering her arm. Melody took it, and together they pushed open the large double doors.
Inside, the kirk was packed, each pew stuffed to bursting. The guests struggled to their feet as best they could, beaming and craning their necks as Melody went by. She smiled at each familiar face, taking the time to be glad Thomas was there, his smile genuine.
Once she reached the top of the aisle, however, Melody’s gaze snagged on Callum, and she could not look away. He stared back at her, his smile soft and not wolf-like at all.
Victoria sniffed, narrowing her eyes at him.
“You had better look after her, Laird MacDean,” she said pointedly, then drifted across to where Arran sat, having saved a seat for her.
“Daenae worry,” Callum murmured, lifting Melody’s hand to his lips. “I certainly intend to. I want to make ye the happiest woman in the world, lassie.”
“Oh, love, ye already have.”
The End?