Epilogue
A year later
The ceilidh was in full swing, the fiddle screeching and the drums thumping and the flute trilling. The dancers laughed and bumped into each other, but some of that might have been because of the whisky that was flowing freely.
Donal found Agatha and she looked up at him with bright, laughing eyes as he took her hand in his and led her into the melee.
He remembered dancing with Mary, swinging her around until she shrieked and believing she would always be with him.
Now he had Agatha, and he knew how lucky he was to have met her and married her.
Maxwell, their son, was safe in the castle, and Donal could not have been more content with his life.
But tonight was a gift for them, just the two of them.
Agatha laughed as he turned her, clinging to his hand, her hair swinging with her.
Her cheeks were pink, and she gasped as some tall red-haired brute cut in and took her away into the midst of the crowd.
The brute was Rory, of course it was. Donal gave him a scowl, but he wasn’t truly angry.
His brothers treated Agatha as if they had known her all their lives, as if she were another beloved sister, and he knew how much she valued it.
The women in his family were all close, spending time together, sharing their tasks with Luna. Bonnyrigg was the sort of place where everyone had their say, and decisions were made jointly. Maxwell believed he was the one in command, but he wasn’t.
Donal grinned as Agatha was returned to him by his brother, flushed and laughing. Rory gave him a wink. “Better hang on to this one, Donal,” he said.
“I intend to,” Donal retorted.
A moment later, Rory had Grace in his arms, the two of them sharing one of their intimate smiles.
Donal escorted Agatha through the crush to the door, passing Callum and Penelope seated near the musicians and laughing at some private joke. His sister Cat was cavorting with some of the other lassies and tried to catch his arm as he went by.
“Dance with me, Donal!” she shouted.
“Later,” he said, giving her a hug. “Now behave yourself.”
She giggled. “Do I have a choice? With my big brothers snarling at any laddie who dares to ask me to dance?”
Donal showed his teeth and made her laugh so hard she doubled over.
Usually Maxwell and Luna would have been at the ceilidh too, but tonight they were at the castle, taking on the joyful task of minding their grandchildren.
Outside, the night was cool. Agatha fanned her hot face and looked about at the forest and over toward the lights of the castle.
“Do you know,” she said, “this is far more fun than any of those balls we went to in London.”
Donal gave her a fond look. “I think so too. But we can go again. To London I mean,” he said. “Show the gossips how happy we are. They’d hate that.”
Agatha considered. “I suppose. We might run into Richard and Charlotte.” Her eyes sparkled with memories but no regrets. Donal knew he made his wife happier than Richard ever could.
They had heard that Richard had married Charlotte Elliot, but there had been no word of Mary and Belvoir. Donal hoped for old times’ sake she was safe and happy, but he knew whatever decisions Mary made were hers and hers alone. He could not live her life for her and nor did he want to.
“I thought we could pay a visit to Hattie,” he said with mock seriousness, hiding a smile. “Not forgetting Old Henry.”
Agatha began to giggle. “Do you remember that day?” she said. “I have never been so drenched. And you in those clothes!”
Of course he remembered. He remembered it all. And he was grateful, more grateful than he could say, to have made that lonely sad journey south in search of one woman, only to fall in love and marry another.
Agatha had stopped talking and was watching him fondly. “We are lucky, aren’t we?” she said, and it wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “Speaking of luck, there is something I want to tell you. It is good news. Callum spoke to me earlier.”
“Oh?”
Donal proceeded to tell her what his brother had said.
“I dinna think you had it in you to find yourself such a woman, little brother. Next you’ll be fighting duels.”
“Not me,” Donal said. “I prefer a quiet life.”
Callum grinned. “So do I,” he agreed and thumped him on the back. Then added, as if it was no great matter, “I’ll be in need of an estate manager soon.”
“I thought that was you,” Donal said, surprised.
“Well, our father has been told by our mother that he is going to go and stay in London for a time with the Strathmores. They may even travel to the Continent. I think she will get her way—she always does. So when I take on his role here at Bonnyrigg, you will take on mine.”
“What about Rory?” Donal asked. “He’s the next in line.”
Callum snorted. “He isna estate manager material,” he said. “Besides, he is talking to our Uncle James about mabbe taking on a role in his shipping company.”
“Rather him than me,” Donal said with a grimace. His one and only time on a ship had left him shaken and weak.
“Then is that a yes?” his brother asked him with a serious look.
Agatha went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “You said yes,” she said confidently. “That is very good news, Donal!”
“Verra good.” Until now, he had been content to fill in his time at Bonnyrigg with any of the many things that needed doing. There was always something to do. But although his efforts were appreciated, he had not felt indispensable.
“Donal, I think you should kiss me to celebrate.” Agatha was smiling up at him in that innocent way he knew meant the opposite. “Perhaps we should go for a wee walk in the forest.”
“Oh?” Donal smirked. “A wee walk, is it? I know what you are thinking. You are insatiable, wife.”
“And is that a complaint?” Agatha leaned against him, her hand sliding down over his chest to the fastenings of his breeches.
Donal groaned. “No,” he said. “No complaints from me.”
Hand in hand, they wandered away from the noise and the laughter to find a private spot.
There was a bed of soft pine needles that looked likely, and soon they were naked.
Agatha’s mouth was warm and welcoming, her body marvelously voluptuous, and when she cried out in pleasure, he wasn’t far behind.
Later, they both lay breathless upon a bed of soft pine needles, gazing up at the night sky through the branches.
Donal was filled to the brim with happiness.
He had a permanent position at Bonnyrigg.
A place for himself and Agatha and little Maxwell where they were safe and loved. It was all he had ever dreamed of.
“I love you, Donal,” Agatha whispered in his ear.
“I love you too,” he said. “Always.”