Épilogue
ELSPETH AND ARCHIBALD’S LEGACY
KEIRA
How can things change so completely in such a short time?
In just a few hours, we’ll officially inaugurate the McKenzie-McGregor Cultural Center and present the Archibald & Elspeth whisky to the public.
Six months have passed since we signed our official partnership—and our personal commitment contract of indefinite duration, as Alistair still insists on calling it, that crooked smile of his making my heart melt every single time.
— Are you ready, sweetheart? Alistair’s voice comes from the doorway.
I turn toward him—and nearly lose my balance at the sight. He’s wearing the traditional McKenzie kilt, but this time, he’s added a detail that steals my breath: a silver brooch where the McKenzie and McGregor symbols are intertwined, exactly like in my original design for the shop.
— You look incredible, I murmur, stepping closer to adjust his tie—a gesture that feels natural now.
— Not as incredible as you, he replies, sliding his arms around my waist. That dress looks stunning on you.
I chose an emerald-green dress that echoes the rolling Highland hills, with delicate embroidered details that subtly reflect traditional Scottish patterns. After all, today marks the public union of our two legacies.
And suddenly, nerves hit me.
— Alistair, I begin, what if people don’t like the whisky? What if the center doesn’t meet their expectations? What if—
He presses a finger gently to my lips, stopping me.
— What if we stopped torturing ourselves with hypotheticals? We created something beautiful, Keira. Together. Archibald and Elspeth would be proud.
His confidence steadies me, as it always does. It’s one of the things I love most about him—his ability to anchor me in the present when my thoughts start spiraling.
— You’re right. It’s just… this matters, you know? Not just for our families, but for them. For their story that almost got lost.
— I know, he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. And that’s exactly why it’s going to be perfect.
The thunder of footsteps on the stairs interrupts our quiet moment. Lachlan’s voice rings out from downstairs:
— Keira! Alistair! You might want to come down! Hamish and Rosita are acting suspicious!
We exchange a worried glance. In Hamish terms, that usually means something is about to go very, very wrong.
ALISTAIR
As I hurry down the stairs, I immediately notice the chaos in the main hall. Martha is darting around with an expression dangerously close to panic—which is alarming for a woman who is usually so composed.
— What’s going on? Keira asks, catching up with Lachlan near the front door.
— Our four-legged friends decided to start the festivities without us, he explains, equal parts amused and exasperated. They escaped their enclosure and… well, you should probably see this for yourselves.
The three of us step outside and are met with a scene that’s both adorable and disastrous.
Hamish and Rosita, followed by their lambs—now a few months old—are strolling majestically through the castle gardens.
The problem is… they’re carrying flowers in their mouths.
Flowers that are very clearly part of the arrangements Maggie ordered.
My gaze drops to the tartan bows tied around their necks.
— Who had the brilliant idea to dress them up? I ask, already suspecting the answer.
— Maggie, Callum says, joining us with a look that’s both proud and slightly embarrassed. She wanted them to officially take part in the ceremony. She called them “our ovine ambassadors.”
— And now they’re heading toward… oh no, Keira breathes, following their trajectory.
They’re heading straight for the marquee, where bottles of champagne are carefully arranged on an honor table.
— We need to stop them! Martha exclaims, arriving behind us, out of breath.
— Let me handle this, Keira says with that determination I know so well. I’ve picked up a few sheep persuasion techniques.
She walks toward the little flock, her voice soft and calm.
— Hamish, my friend, now is not the time for sightseeing. And you, Rosita, you’re supposed to set an example for your little ones.
To my astonishment, Hamish actually stops and turns his head toward her. For a moment, it feels like I’m witnessing a high-level diplomatic negotiation between two parties who fully understand each other.
— That’s better, Keira continues, stepping closer. Now, if you really want to be part of the ceremony, you need to stay in your decorated enclosure. Martha prepared special treats for you.
Hamish’s ears perk up at the word treats. He exchanges a look with Rosita—as if they’re deliberating—then turns and calmly heads back toward the enclosure, his family following behind him.
— How does she do that? I mutter, impressed.
— She speaks sheep, Lachlan grins. It’s a natural gift.
KEIRA
Two hours later, I’m standing beside Alistair on the temporary stage set up in front of the McKenzie-McGregor Cultural Center. The building, completed just weeks ago, exceeds everything I ever imagined.
The modern architecture blends seamlessly into the Highland landscape, and the symbols I subtly incorporated into the original shop design are now beautifully showcased across the facade.
A real crowd has gathered—villagers, journalists, whisky experts, and of course, both families in full attendance. Even the oldest, most traditional McKenzies are here, proof that this reconciliation is real and lasting.
— Ladies and gentlemen, Alistair begins into the microphone, welcome to this historic inauguration. Today marks not only the opening of our cultural center, but also the celebration of a rediscovered legacy.
His voice carries effortlessly through the crisp Highland air. He has that natural confidence I’ll never stop admiring—that ability to captivate an audience without even trying.
— A year ago, he continues, Keira McGregor and I were business partners working on a shared project.
A ripple of knowing laughter moves through the crowd. Our “arrangement” has become a story everyone knows now.
— What we didn’t realize at the time was that we were rediscovering a love story more than two centuries old. The story of Archibald McKenzie and Elspeth McGregor—two souls who dreamed of creating something extraordinary together.
He hands me the microphone, and I feel my heart pick up speed. Public speaking has never been my strength—but today, the words come easily.
— Archibald and Elspeth never got to fulfill their dream in their lifetime, I begin. Family feuds and the prejudices of their time stood in their way. But their vision survived—hidden in secret passages and love letters—waiting for the right moment to come back to life.
I catch Maggie and Mary exchanging an emotional glance.
— The whisky we’re presenting to you today is more than the result of an old recipe. It’s proof that love and creativity can transcend time—that dreams can come true, even when everything seems lost.
Alistair takes the microphone again.
— We are honored to present the very first Archibald & Elspeth whisky, distilled according to their original recipe, using barley grown on the McGregor south field and spring water from McKenzie land. As it should be, this creation was only possible through the union of our two legacies.
Warm applause rises from the crowd. I notice my uncle Duncan discreetly wiping away a tear, which surprises me. He’s never been one to show emotion in public.
As the guests begin exploring the cultural center, I make my way toward Hamish and Rosita’s enclosure. Our ovine ambassadors have behaved remarkably well throughout the ceremony.
Hamish approaches and presses his nose against my hand, wearing that satisfied expression he always has when he’s pulled off something particularly bold.
— You were perfect today, Hamish. Not a single diplomatic incident.
— Maybe he’s getting older? Alistair suggests from behind me.
I turn to find him watching us with that soft look he gets when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
— Or maybe he finally understands the importance of solemn occasions, I counter.
— Possible. Or maybe he’s saving something spectacular for our wedding.
At the mention of our wedding—just a few months away—my stomach flips. Not with nerves this time, but pure anticipation.
— Speaking of our wedding, I begin, sensing the perfect moment for my surprise. There’s something I need to tell you.
He tilts his head, intrigued by my tone.
— Something serious?
— No. Something wonderful. At least, I hope you’ll see it that way.
I take a deep breath. I had planned to tell him tonight, in the privacy of our room—but something about this moment, surrounded by our ancestors’ legacy and the symbols of our love, pushes me to say it now.
— Alistair… we’re going to have a new addition to our family.
He stares at me for a few seconds, not understanding—then his eyes widen.
— You mean…?
— I mean our baby will be attending our wedding in utero, I confirm with a smile I can’t hold back anymore.
The expression that crosses his face is worth every treasure in Scotland. Shock melts into a joy so pure, so radiant, it brings tears to my eyes.
— Keira… are you sure?
— The doctor confirmed it yesterday. I even have the ultrasound pictures in my bag.
He lifts me into his arms and spins me around, not caring in the slightest that half the village might be watching. When he sets me down, his eyes are shining openly with tears.
— A baby, he murmurs, like he’s testing the word. Our baby.
— What do you think?
— I think it’s the most beautiful gift you could ever give me.
He takes my hands and presses them to his lips.
— I love you, Keira McGregor. More than words could ever express.
— I love you too, Alistair McKenzie. Forever.
An approving bleat makes us both look up. Hamish is watching us with what looks suspiciously like a satisfied grin.
— I think he approves, Alistair says with a laugh.
ALISTAIR
Evening settles over the Highlands. Most of the guests have left, but our families have gathered in the main sitting room of McGregor Castle for a more intimate celebration.
Keira and I have just announced the baby, triggering an explosion of joy and emotion that still echoes through the room. My mother has been crying happy tears for the past ten minutes, and Maggie has already started planning a nursery “worthy of a little McKenzie-McGregor.”
— You do realize this child is going to grow up surrounded by more love and tradition than they’ll know what to do with? Callum murmurs, stepping up beside me with a glass of whisky.
— That’s exactly what I’m hoping for, I reply. That they inherit the best of both our families.
— And avoid the McGregor stubborn streak, Jane adds with a wink at Keira.
— Hey! Keira protests. The McGregor stubborn streak has its advantages. Without it, your wedding never would’ve happened.
Jane bursts out laughing.
— Fair point. In that case, I wish your child just enough stubbornness to succeed in life.
Isobel approaches, holding a small object wrapped in velvet.
— Keira, my dear, she says softly, there’s something I’ve wanted to give you for a long time. Now that you’re starting your own family, it feels like the right moment.
She unwraps the cloth, revealing a small engraved silver box, clearly old.
— What is it?
— It belonged to my mother.
Keira takes it carefully, as though it were an irreplaceable treasure—which it probably is.
— It’s been passed down through generations, waiting for the right moment. Your grandmother entrusted it to me before she passed.
Keira opens the box gently. Inside, nestled in blue velvet, lies a pair of sapphire and silver earrings, exquisitely crafted.
— They’re beautiful, she breathes. Thank you.
— One day, your daughter will inherit them too, Isobel says.
Suddenly, I picture a little girl with Keira’s eyes—and it hits me harder than I expect.
A familiar sound makes us all turn. Hamish and Rosita are heading toward us again, their twins bouncing along behind them. They’ve escaped their enclosure once more—but this time, it seems peaceful enough.
— Good evening, my friends, I greet them.
Hamish steps forward and presses his nose gently against Keira’s stomach, as if sensing something important.
— You know what? I say suddenly. I think they deserve a special reward for their exemplary behavior today.
— What do you have in mind? Maggie asks.
— How about we officially grant them full freedom across the estate? No more enclosures, no more restrictions. They’ve proven they know how to behave when it matters.
Keira smiles at the idea.
— I think that’s a wonderful idea.
— Then it’s settled. From now on, Hamish, Rosita, and their children are the official—and free—residents of our united lands.
As if they understand, the four sheep bleat in unison.
Walking back toward the castle, hand in hand with Keira, I can’t help but reflect on how far we’ve come. Before she walked into my office, I was a solitary businessman, obsessed with success and convinced love was an unnecessary complication.
Now, I’m about to marry the woman of my life. We’re expecting our first child. And we’ve fulfilled our ancestors’ dream by building something meaningful together.
— What are you thinking about? Keira asks.
— I was thinking about our first contract—the one you proposed in my office. Do you remember your arguments?
— “A mutually beneficial arrangement with no emotional complications,” she recites with a smile. I was very convincing back then.
— You were. But you were wrong about one thing.
— What?
— The emotional complications turned out to be the best part of the arrangement.
She stops walking and turns to face me.
— Mr. McKenzie… are you telling me you’ve breached the terms of our original contract?
— Completely and deliberately, Miss McGregor. And I intend to keep breaking them for the rest of my life.
— In that case, I’m going to have to demand compensation.
— And what form of compensation would you like?
— Your heart. For life. With an automatic renewal clause in all your future incarnations.
— Deal, I say, before kissing her beneath the Highland stars.
When we part, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
— You’re beautiful, I murmur.
— And you’re mine, she replies with that smile that makes me fall for her a little more every day.
As we cross the threshold of the castle, I think one last time of Archibald and Elspeth. Their broken dream has come to life through us. And in a few months, their shared legacy will be born into a world where love has triumphed over pride.
Some stories don’t end. They simply become new beginnings.
Ours is only just beginning.