Epilogue
ONE MONTH LATER
Daphne woke to the sun streaming over her face. She yawned, stretching luxuriously and rolling onto her back. The curtains hadn’t been closed last night, and since Hunter’s estate faced east, morning was a bright time in their front rooms.
She liked it. He didn’t, however. They’d discussed before how much he disliked the sunshine, the heat, and, of course, his English neighbors. Except for Lady Pilbury, of course.
Hunter stirred beside her, and she glanced at him. A soft smile crept onto her face. He was naked to the waist, his broad shoulders and strong back turned toward her. Rolling onto her side, she trailed her fingertips down the curve of his spine.
He grunted in his sleep, stirring, and gradually rolled over. She let her palm flatten over sleep-warmed skin, watching him wake slowly.
When he was about halfway awake, he smiled. “Morning, love.”
“Morning to ye, too.”
He reached out, his fingertips grazing her cheek. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us,” he remarked.
Before she could respond, a knock sounded at the door.
“Mama! Pa!” came a little voice from outside. “Can I come in?”
“Aye, if ye like,” Daphne called.
The door creaked open, and Willow came pattering in. She leaped up onto the bed, crawling up to deposit herself against the pillows between them.
“Did ye forget?” she asked. “Ye are getting married today. I’m already in me best dress!”
Daphne chuckled, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close, showering her with kisses. “We didnae forget, pet! We’re going to get ready soon.”
“Ye had better hurry.”
“We are the bride and groom,” Hunter laughed. “What are they going to do, start without us?”
An hour later, Daphne and Hunter walked hand in hand toward the small chapel on Lady Pilbury’s estate.
“It’s nae ordinary for a bride and groom to walk to the chapel together,” Daphne remarked. “Neither in England nor in Scotland.”
“Well, neither ye nor I are good at doing things the ordinary way,” Hunter drawled, grinning down at her. His hand tightened around hers, and she leaned against him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.
As they approached the chapel, a figure hurried toward them. It was Helena, who had traveled down to England as soon as she heard the news. She was clutching a paper in her hand and had a glimmer in her eyes.
The door stood open, and Daphne caught glimpses of the guests inside. She saw her sister perching on the edge of her seat, her eyes bright. She saw Skye and Evander craning their necks to peer back down the aisle. A couple she guessed were Nora and Creighton sat beside them.
Lady Pilbury was there, of course, standing at the front and leaning on her cane, whispering to Willow, who stood beside her. River was there too, entirely unconcerned by the importance of the day.
“It’s a letter,” Helena breathed. “Delivered today by express messenger. For ye, Hunter.”
Hunter took the envelope, tore it open, and read the letter silently.
“Hunter?” Daphne whispered after a moment.
He held out the letter for her to read and glanced back at his mother.
“The council wants me to return as Laird MacCrimmon,” he announced.
“There’s nobody who can replace me, they say.
Nobody rightful, that is. Already, they’re losing money.
Bandits are coming back. The councilmen cannae work together.
They say…” He paused, biting back a smile. “They say that they need me.”
Daphne let out a ragged breath. “And what will ye do?”
“I daenae ken,” he confessed, meeting her gaze. “At least, I daenae ken yet.”
Tactfully, Helena slipped back into the chapel and closed the door to give them a little privacy.
Daphne took a step toward him, placing her hands on his shoulders.
“Ye were born to do this,” she whispered, meeting his eyes. “Ye are the best laird in the world.”
“Well, that’s an exaggeration.”
“Maybe,” she acknowledged. “But I think we’ll both agree that England doesnae suit ye. It’s time to return home.”
He wound his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Rising on her tiptoes, she pressed her forehead against his.
“It’s time to go home,” she breathed.
He chuckled. “Lass, ye are me home. I’d follow ye anywhere.”
She kissed him, cupping her hands around his jaw and holding him close as if he might fly away if she didn’t hold him tight enough.
The door opened and closed, and Daphne pulled back to see Willow sneaking out of the chapel, eyeing them uncertainly. Both she and Hunter held out their arms, and the little girl gave a squeal of delight and came running toward them. They snatched her up, showering her with kisses.
“What is it? What’s happening?” Willow demanded, wriggling in their arms.
“We’re going home, lass,” Daphne whispered.
“But first,” Hunter added with a grin, “yer ma and I have to get married.”
“Oh, aye,” Willow sighed. “I forgot about that.”
Two Weeks Later
“How do ye feel?” Daphne asked softly, leaning against Hunter’s shoulder.
He said nothing for a long moment.
She was sure that the journey hadn’t been easy for him, cramped as the carriage was, with Willow on his knee and his mother jabbering constantly.
However, the good times had outnumbered the bad, with games and songs and food.
Endless food. Now, Willow was asleep, curled up in his arms. River slept somewhere amongst the tangled blankets and pillows beside them.
Helena was asleep too, leaning against the side of the carriage, her shawl tucked around her shoulders.
“About what?” Hunter said.
Daphne rolled her eyes. “Come on, man. What do ye think? Ye are coming home. Ye are Laird again, after they let ye go.”
“Ye say it as if they threw me out. I chose to go. I was going to leave regardless, because I was going to find ye.”
She reached up, touching his cheek. “I ken, Hunter. But how do ye feel?”
He considered for a moment. “Uncertain,” he admitted. “I should feel as though I were going home, and I do, but there’s also trepidation. I might have been determined to go, but…” He threw her a wry smile. “They let me go.”
The carriage began to climb the long road up toward the keep. They would be there soon.
Despite her confident talk, Daphne felt a twinge of uncertainty. But no. Now wasn’t the time for uncertainty.
Through the gates they went, and she heard a roar of voices. The carriage rolled to a halt, and Helena jerked awake.
“We’re home?” she mumbled.
Willow perked up, too, smothering a yawn. “Home?”
“I’ll take her,” Helena offered, taking the little girl in her arms. “We’ll go inside and leave ye to greet the others. The councilmen, especially.”
Without waiting for a reply, Helena and Willow slipped out of the carriage. River hopped after them, nimbly scrambling along on three legs.
Daphne met Hunter’s gaze. “Shall we?”
“Aye,” he responded, his lips stretching into a lazy grin. “Let’s go.”
His hand found hers, their fingers lacing together. They climbed out of the carriage and greeted the crowd.
It seemed that everyone was there. Familiar, smiling faces met Daphne’s eyes. The cluster of nervous men at the front must be the councilmen.
Hunter kept her hand in his as he approached them.
“Daphne, this is Jasper, me new man-at-arms,” he explained gently.
The tall, broad-shouldered blond man bowed, smiling. “Lady MacCrimmon,” he greeted.
Lady MacCrimmon. That was who she was now. How long it would take for her to feel comfortable with that title remained to be seen.
One of the councilmen came shuffling forward, smiling nervously up at Hunter.
“Me Laird, we are beyond glad to see ye here,” he murmured. “And… And Lady MacCrimmon, ye too. And Lady Willow, of course. Where is she?”
“It’s good to see ye, too, Donald,” Hunter said, nodding. “And I will never again abandon the clan, assuming that ye willnae try to separate me from me family.”
Donald inclined his head.
Operating on some unspoken signal, the councilmen slipped aside, opening a gap that led to the keep.
Hand in hand, Hunter and Daphne moved toward the entrance. Through the doorway they went, the shadow of the keep falling over them.
“How does it feel?” Hunter murmured, pulling her against his side. He curled an arm around her waist, and she shivered in pleasure.
“Like coming home,” she whispered.
“Come. I want to show ye me study.”
“A fine room, is it?” she laughed, allowing him to tug her along.
“Oh, very fine,” he assured her, chuckling.
They stumbled into the study, and Daphne backed toward the large desk, giggling. He advanced on her, his eyes darkening.
“There’ll be work to do,” he murmured. “In the clan, I mean. I’ve missed home, I willnae deny it. But most of all, I’ve missed the chance that I never got to have ye right here on this desk.”
Stepping forward, he lifted her easily and lowered her onto the desk. He leaned in, bracing his hands on either side of her hips.
Daphne draped her arms around his shoulders. “Is that so?” she breathed.
“Aye, it is,” he purred, brushing his nose against hers. “But daenae worry, lass. I intend to remedy that very soon.”
A warm hand landed on her knee, making her shiver. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, exposing the column of her throat. She could feel his warm breath on her skin, delightfully tantalizing.
“I hope so, Laird MacCrimmon,” she whispered, opening her eyes and fixing them on him. “I shall hold ye to that promise, and I wait with anticipation.”
“Oh, lass, ye willnae have to wait long.”
The End?