Epilogue
FOUR MONTHS LATER
Sunlight slants through the crooked blinds that never quite close properly, falling across the rumpled sheets of my bed. I open one eye to the sight of Rory Kinnaird, Duke of Loch Morven, gloriously naked, attempting to operate my extremely temperamental coffee maker.
“You know,” he says, without turning round, “for someone who works in a coffee shop, your home equipment is shockingly subpar.”
“Not all of us can afford gold-plated espresso machines, Your Grace,” I tease, as I roll over wrapped in the duvet, watching the ripple of muscles across his back as he reaches up into the wonky cupboard for two mugs.
He growls a warning. “I’ve told you not to call me that,” he says, but he’s laughing.
Movement catches my eye – Mrs MacEwan who lives in the little flat opposite is watering her window boxes, and she has a direct view into the kitchen. I pull the duvet up to cover my modesty, but the elderly woman’s eyes widen at the sight of a naked duke. She makes no attempt to look away .
“Rory,” I hiss as he turns to stretch, raising his arms in the air, his muscled shoulders flexing. “Mrs MacEwan can see everything!”
He turns and glances over his shoulder, unconcerned. “I waved to her earlier when you were still asleep. I think she approves; she gave me a thumbs up. Those plants are going to be wrecked though. I think she’s watered them three times already this morning.”
I flop back on the bed and pull the duvet cover over my head. “Oh my God. This is why you shouldn’t be allowed out in civilised society.”
He passes me a mug and kisses me on the shoulder. “There’s a perfectly good castle five miles up the road,” he says, regarding me over the top of his mug. “My daily campaign for cohabitation is getting off to an early start today.” His mouth curves upwards.
“I like my independence,” I counter, taking a sip of coffee then putting it down on the bedside table so I can snake my arms around his waist.
“You like your leaky ceiling and the weird mould stain over the shower in the corner of the bathroom.”
“It adds character.”
“There’s plenty of character at Loch Morven. You said so yourself, countless times.”
“I did.” I pick up my phone at the sound of a notification.
“And there are no neighbours with binoculars.”
“Apart from Fenella, who probably has a hitman on me at this point.”
He grins. “No, I forgot to tell you. She and Brice are the new Highland power couple.”
I shudder at the thought .
“Yeah, they’re perfect for each other.” He grins wickedly. “Perfectly awful.”
I check my messages. “I’ve got a message from Charlotte asking if I’ve checked my email.”
Rory raises a brow. “And have you?”
I shake my head and untangle myself from him for a moment to take another sip of coffee. “I got locked out of it yesterday and forgot to do the two-factor identification thing. Hang on, let me check.”
Two minutes later I’m staring at my phone screen in disbelief.
“Darling?” Rory leans over to look over my shoulder. “Everything okay?”
I hand him the phone.
“From Charlotte,” he reads. “‘Darling, wonderful news! Germany and Denmark have just made offers for translation rights. Call me asap!’” He looks up at me, his smile huge. “Baby, this is fantastic! I’m so proud of you.”
I look at the screen again, hoping the words might sink in. “I never thought… I mean I hoped when she said it hit the Kindle chart, but…”
Rory pulls me into his arms, coffee sloshing on the bedclothes as he shoves the mug roughly out of the way. “I’m so proud of you. My bestselling author.”
“Hardly bestselling,” I scoff, but I can’t stop the huge smile that’s spreading over my face. “It’s the historical fiction chart, not the main one.”
“The reviews say otherwise.” He kisses my temple and brushes the hair back from my face, looking at me with those green eyes.
“Okay,” I say, climbing onto his lap and kissing him as I straddle him, my hands flat against his chest .
He pulls me close and kisses me, his hands running down my back to catch hold of my hips. I feel his cock rising to attention and shift my body slightly to accommodate him, trying to stay focused on what I’m trying to say as his fingers trace circles on my skin.
“I said okay,” I say, leaning to kiss his neck. Rory groans and pulls me closer, burying his lips in my neck.
“Okay to what?” He’s not really listening.
“I’ll move in.”
He rears back, shock and surprise written all over his face. “You will?”
I nod, laughing. “I will. Because if you keep giving away pieces of the estate, you’re going to need my book royalties to pay for the new roof.”
One Year Later
“Are you sure you don’t want to wear this?” Kate says from under a yellowed confection of lace. “It’s been in the family for generations, apparently.”
I half-turn to look at her and Janey flicks me on the shoulder to get me to straighten up.
“Keep still, you, I’m trying to do these buttons.”
“I don’t know why you bother,” says Kate, tossing the faded Kinnaird veil onto the chaise longue. “She’ll be ripping it off in about five minutes.”
Janey glares at my reflection in the mirror, her expression stern. “You had better not be, madam.”
“I will not,” I say, lifting my arm as Janey fastens the final one and stands back with a look of triumph. “Despite what some people might think, I’m capable of some restraint. ”
“That’s not what I heard.” Kate waggles her eyebrows. “The whole village seems to know about the kitchen garden incident.”
I close my eyes, feeling the heat rushing to my cheeks.
“It was once.”
“Once is enough,” Janey chuckles as she spins me round, giving me the once-over. “Anyway, I think we’d all agree that it’s right and fitting that a young couple should be—” She pauses for a moment, choosing her words with a mock-prim expression. “—enthusiastic about each other.”
“We’ve taken over from the ice penis, haven’t we?” I groan, putting a hand to my forehead. “The duke and his writer caught in a compromising position in the greenhouse.”
“Och,” says Janey soothingly. “I’m sure there’ll be another scandal soon enough.”
“Probably caused by Jamie,” Kate says carelessly, adjusting the posy of wildflowers pinned to her dress.
“I don’t care,” I say, pushing my hair back over my shoulders. It’s hanging loose, more wildflowers pinned in my red waves. Even the prospect of public humiliation can’t dent my mood today.
Through the window of what was once the duchess’s dressing room I can see the activity on the lawns below.
White chairs are arranged in semi circles facing down towards the loch.
Wildflowers and greenery picked fresh from the estate this morning, their bright colours capturing exactly the mood we wanted – not staid and formal, but relaxed and joyful.
Children are darting around, already sticky from the candy-floss cart we both agreed had to make another appearance.
Through the trees I catch a glimpse of the striped canopy of the carousel .
“There,” says Janey, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Perfect, even by my impossibly high standards.”
The door opens, and Annabel sweeps in, dressed in a soft gold dress and high sandals, her honey blonde hair pinned back in a chignon. She looks incredibly glamorous, like she’s about to accept a lifetime achievement award at the Oscars.
“Oh darling,” she says, eyes immediately filling with tears. “You look absolutely beautiful. You all do.” She air-kisses all three of us and looks me up and down.
I smooth down the plain silk gown. Despite Annabel’s best efforts to convince me that this was my one and only opportunity to “Go for it, my angel, you need something befitting a duchess,” I knew there was no way I could carry off a gigantic swishy meringue with a veil.
Annabel dabs carefully at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I have something for you. Your something borrowed , although I think we’ll call it more of a permanent loan or a return to its rightful owner.”
She reaches into her clutch and pulls out a small velvet box. “Rory’s mother lent me this for a ball donkey’s years ago.”
Inside the box is a slim silver bracelet set with pale stones that catch the light as she fastens it around my wrist.
“I think she’d be delighted to see you wear it,” Annabel says softly.
“I can’t—” I say touching the cool stones, suddenly overwhelmed.
“You absolutely can,” Annabel interrupts. “There’s been far too much about his father over the last few decades, and not a word about my dear friend.”
Janey’s wiping her eyes and even Kate’s having a discreet sniff when a knock at the door pulls us back to our senses .
Finn pokes his head around the door, surprisingly formal in full Highland dress. Even his scruff of beard has been tamed, leaving only the unkept waves of dark hair falling over his face as a reminder that he’s here on his own terms.
“If we don’t get this show on the road,” he says gruffly, “Jamie’s going to get started on the whisky and rewrite his best man’s speech, and God knows what that will lead to.”
I take a deep breath. “I hate to think.”
Kate slips out to take her place, and Janey and Annabel follow, each giving me a final kiss on the cheek.
“Luckiest man in Scotland,” Janey whispers, “and if he ever forgets it, I’ll personally remove his kneecaps.”
Then it’s just me and Finn in the empty room. He offers his arm in a surprisingly gentlemanly fashion.
“Thanks for this,” I say, taking it. “I know this sort of thing is your idea of hell.”
He shrugs. “Jamie would have been distracted halfway down the aisle.” As we make our way down the grand staircase, he adds, “I was right about you. I had my suspicions from the start.”
I shoot him a look of alarm, and he disarms me with a rare grin.
“You’re the first person who saw him for who he really is. Not the duke, not the castle – just my uptight, overthinking brother who needs someone to tell him he’s being a monumental idiot from time to time.”