Epilogue
Three weeks had passed since Emma had been stabbed and suffered the fever. To her annoyance, her healer had her stay in bed longer than she wanted. She completely understood how her husband had felt during his recuperation.
Worse, the healer had Morgan’s approval for her convalescence. Even after she reminded her arrogant husband that she was a healer, herself, and that she would know what was best.
He merely smiled, kissed her on the head like she was a bairn, and said, “Nay.”
Marcus Oliphant and Margaret spent many hours together setting up the healing hut, foresting for herbs, rolling bandages, attending to the sick and injured, and chatting their days away.
With a surprise to no one, Marcus had given up hinting and outright asked Morgan if he could stay at Clyth Castle permanently as a healer. Apparently, months earlier he’d lost both his parents and one brother in a fire and was anxious to start a new life for himself somewhere else.
They’d sent a request to the Oliphant laird who had replied with a missive to Morgan, approving that Marcus remain at Clyth Castle. He’d also added a note that aligning himself with Patrick Gunn had been a mistake. Now he offered an alliance between the Gunn and Oliphant clans.
Once Marcus had sworn his fealty, he happily joined Margaret in the healing hut, and it appeared to all who watched them that the two would most likely marry one day.
Emma was becoming grouchy with her forced limitations.
Against her husband’s orders, she rose from her bed and began to dress.
She was so weak she almost gave up, but decided—just as Morgan had needed to restore his strength—she would never get well and assume duties unless she began to build herself up.
She’d only put on a few items of clothing before she had to sit to catch her breath. That was when the door to the bedchamber opened and Morgan walked in. “What are ye doing, wife?”
From her position on the bed, and with frustration building, Emma said, “I must leave this bed, this room.” She felt the tears building in her eyes and was thoroughly humiliated when a few dripped down her cheeks.
Morgan walked across the bedchamber and wrapped his arms around her, careful not to touch her still-healing chest. He surprised her when her grouchy, stubborn, former-patient nodded and said, “I understand, my love.”
Her surprising husband. She smiled.
“Actually, it’s yer good fortune that I came up here exactly to bring ye to the great hall for a clan meeting.”
She wiped the tears from her face. “Oh, leaving this chamber sounds wonderful.”
“Here, let me help ye dress.”
Emma stood as Morgan slid the linen over her and then wrapped her plaid around her body. He adjusted the pleats and stepped back. “Ye look beautiful, Emma.”
She touched the pin on his plaid as she lifted her gaze to his. “And ye look handsome, husband.”
He kissed her gently, then took her hand and led her from the room.
Together, they descended the stairs and walked to the great hall.
Emma took in a deep breath when she saw almost all the members of the clan gathered there.
They were drinking mugs of ale and mead, and the serving maids were rushing back and forth with trays of bread and more drinks. It was like a feast.
“What is this for?” Emma asked.
Morgan shrugged. “Just a meeting.”
They walked through the room with members smiling at her, something she’d never seen before, he was sure.
They sat at the table at the dais, alongside Michael, Morgan’s new Second-in-Command, and several other clan members who held positions of honor, including his newly appointed council, since as a new untrained laird, he felt it wise to have the advice of a few of the elders.
Once Morgan and Emma started eating, serving lasses came out with platters of meat for the other tables. Toasts were made to Morgan and a few to Emma, who was apparently surprised by the look on her face and her shy smile.
Once everyone had finished, Morgan stood and tapped on his mug to gain attention from the crowd.
“Clan members. When I first arrived back here over a month ago as yer new laird, I neglected to properly introduce my beautiful wife, Lady Emma Gunn.
“I am alive and able to walk today due to my wife’s skill as a healer. Before I left the Mackenzie holding to return here as yer laird, we married for the sole reason that Emma Gunn holds my Highlander heart. I love her, and based on what she’s said, she loves me as well.
“Any nasty rumors about my wife will end from here on out and will forever be treated as crimes.” He reached down and took her hand, raising her up. “Lady Gunn is my wife and partner. Any wishes or orders she makes are to be considered as from me.”
He was happy to see more smiles than frowns. He bent toward Emma. “Welcome to yer home, my love, Clyth Castle of the Gunn Clan.”
He then bent further and kissed her to the cheers of the crowd.
Three weeks later
“I ken why I canno’ keep my food down, husband. I was a healer for years and I ken am no’ sick. Ye better get yerself ready to welcome another member of the Gunn clan in about six or so months.”
He frowned at her. “Then, I think ’tis best if ye get into bed and rest.”
Emma growled.
The End