Epilogue
The marriage was a spectacle indeed.
The ceremony was held at the McDaugh keep so that Laird Fredric would be able to attend.
Stefan and Daric were both there. Urich remained behind, however, so that he could remain vigilant over the Wallace clan and its lands in case those loathsome Sinclairs chose to take advantage of Stefan’s absence.
He kept the guardsmen on high alert, made them engage in numerous drills to maintain readiness, and spent nearly every moment of his time patrolling the ramparts personally…
and privately, he loved every moment of it.
He’d had no particular interest in returning to the McDaugh keep and confronting his father again, even if it meant he’d have to miss his half-brother’s day of bliss.
In fact, he had decided he would never again go back there while the old man still lived.
This was his home now, and he enjoyed it thoroughly.
The McDaugh Keep had long since become a drafty and dreary place.
The war had claimed the lives of so many young men who had once been servants there, and although the women did their best to take up the slack, there were still many chores that had gone neglected for years at a time; corners and chandeliers that had become enveloped by cobwebs, stones that had grown dark with dirt and mold, carpets and furniture covered in thick layers of dust.
Now that the war with the Wallaces had ended, though—and there was cause for proper celebration—the old place was thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom until it was restored to something resembling its former beauty.
Garlands of flowers and beautiful banners were hung all about the ramparts and corridors, and the servants merrily wore wreaths and blooms in their hair.
They walked about the keep smiling and laughing, for they’d had no cause for jubilee in far too long.
They knew that with the alliance between the two clans, fewer of their loved ones and kinsmen would be sacrificed to the horrors of war.
Not only that, but they rejoiced at the notion that the Sinclairs would soon be reckoned with once and for all.
All of the nobles of the Wallace clan came to pay their respects, and so did a great many farmers, artisans, and other commoners.
They filled the rooms at the inns and taverns, and when all of those were occupied, many of them were content to sleep in tents or out under the stars as they waited for the big day to arrive.
Some of them were even welcomed into the houses of the McDaugh clansmen, and those who had once been enemies greeted and welcomed each other as friends and future comrades in arms.
The ceremony itself was like something from a magical dream.
Despite his ill health, Laird Fredric insisted on walking Pelna down the aisle since her own father was not alive to do so.
He did it with tears of happiness in his eyes, and though he was infirm, his steps did not falter once in bringing her to the altar.
When they got there, he kissed her on the cheek and whispered to her how happy he was to see her married to his beloved son.
The friar gave his speech, telling them of the wonders, mysteries, and trials of wedlock.
He explained that though it was easy enough to fall in love and easier still to exchange vows, it would be the difficult times that would test the strength of their devotion to each other.
They looked into each other’s eyes and nodded, knowing the truth of it: That they had already weathered storms together and were prepared to endure many more, as long as they could do so side by side.
They were hand-fasted, and when prompted, they kissed, causing a merry uproar among all who had come to wish them well.
After that came the revels, and they lasted well into the night.
The McDaughs and Wallaces exchanged songs and stories, slapped each other on the back, and talked of how honored they were to join each other in battle against the Sinclairs when the time came.
There was much drinking and dancing, especially by Daric, who made a point of dancing with every lady in attendance.
The music played cheerfully until everyone was either too drunk or sleepy to continue.
The guests began to leave, though none of them departed without giving their good wishes to the happy couple.
Then the time came for them to retire together.
Gareth took his new bride by the hand and led her up to his bedchamber, which would now be hers as well whenever she wasn’t personally overseeing the affairs of her own clan.
He closed the door behind them, and then their mouths were upon each other, their breath mingling to create the sweetest and most heady of perfumes, their tongues exploring each other tenderly.
Pelna’s small and delicate hands slid all over Gareth hungrily, and he caressed the back of her neck as he continued to kiss her. Their bodies pressed together so tightly that it seemed as though they might merge into one, and Gareth could feel her heartbeat as strongly as his own.
She undid the fasteners on his tunic while he, in turn, pulled loose the ribbons of her dress, allowing it to cascade to the floor like some magnificent waterfall.
His ceremonial tartan kilt was next, and as she freed him of it, she had a brief pang of memory of the tartan clutched in old Bran’s dead hand, the one that had started her on this strange adventure in the first place.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. This was neither the time nor the place for thoughts so grim. She preferred to enjoy the company of this man she had married, this man she loved more than she ever thought possible.
Gareth helped her out of her underclothes, and then they were both standing before each other, as naked as the day they’d come into this world.
Gareth admired the curves and hollows of her exquisite body, the way they caught the light from the candles, making her resemble some painting of an ancient goddess.
Each of her breasts glowed as white and round as the moon, and the thatch of red hair between her legs was like some enchanted forest from a storybook, beckoning him to explore.
They went to the bed together, and she reclined upon it, grinning at him invitingly.
He joined her, snuggling up beside her and nuzzling her ear.
His teeth nibbled gently at her earlobe, causing cascades of delight to stream down her spine and through her entire body.
She was eager, ecstatic, but nervous as well.
Her hands trembled slightly as they touched his nude form, her fingertips tracing unknown poetry upon his chest and lower until she took his manhood in her palm and squeezed it softly.
The flesh there was warm and stiff and quivered at her touch.
She tenderly caressed it from stem to tip and back again, and Gareth shuddered with exquisite joy, arching his neck and closing his eyes.
As she handled him, she planted a series of kisses on the side of his neck, then continued lower, lower, until she was in a position to withdraw her hand and use her mouth upon him instead.
The sensation was like nothing he’d ever felt before.
He felt a tingling deep within his core, and his fingers hooked into the bedspread as his breath came in ragged gasps.
He inhaled deeply, then exhaled shakily, calling her name with supreme bliss.
Feeling her lips around his staff was like ascending into heaven, and he half expected to see angels surrounding him when he opened his eyes again.
What he saw instead was even better; the woman who adored him, straddling him and smiling down upon him. Her short and curly hairs brushed against the tip of him tantalizingly, and he moaned, his eyes begging her to lower herself upon him.
She did, and in doing so, she felt something inside of her snap like a greenstick twig.
There was a brief flash of pain, but it was immediately washed away by a flood of pleasure, and she began to rock her hips back and forth against his.
He was going all the way to her innermost recesses; parts of her that she had never known existed, places that were as unexplored and exotic to her as faraway lands.
Brightness pulsed and bloomed within her, and she took hold of his shoulders, steadying herself so she could control the movement even more.
The perspiration of their bodies mingled like some marvelous oil, fragrant and musky, and the pace of their lovemaking quickened as it reached its zenith.
She felt something building steadily inside her.
She did not know what it was or what it would do to her if she tried to keep it confined within—she only knew it needed to be released, and so she gave in to it completely.
The climax that flowed through her was as strong and refreshing as a mighty river. It churned and foamed and roared inside her, carrying her away on its fierce current, and as it did, she felt his release as well, and called his name over and over until both of them were spent.
As they curled up in each other’s arms, each of them smiled with the knowledge that there were a thousand more nights just like this one ahead of them.
And perhaps even better.
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