Epilogue
Moira looked in the mirror as Fennella finished adjusting her tartan, drawing in a breath. Today she was to marry Tavin and become his wife.
“Och ye look bonnie!”
Moira turned to her sister. “I cannae believe this day has come.”
Fennella took her hands, squeezing them gently. “Neither can I but I’ve never seen ye happier.”
Moira was happy. Dressed in a green gown, the McPherson tartan draped around her, she looked every inch the lady of the keep.
But once she moved, her skirts parted, and a hint of the Stuart tartan shown through.
It had been her idea to add Tavin’s tartan to her wedding gown, a nod to where he had come from.
They could never escape his past, but there was a brighter future and she was gladly stepping into that future with him.
And if the other clans agreed, Tavin would become Laird Stuart. She knew it was a weight upon his shoulders, but he was going to be a good leader for his people, and she was proud of him.
“Moira?”
Realizing her sister was watching her with worry in her eyes, Moira smiled. “Dinnae worry. Today is a day tae celebrate.”
“Come then,” Fennella said. “’Tis time for us tae marry ye off.”
Moira hugged her and then Sorcha, who had been waiting silently at the door. “We are so proud of ye,” Sorcha said, hugging her tightly. “And we will grow tae love yer husband.”
“I know ye will,” Moira replied, straightening. There were still some that disagreed with the fact that Tavin was to be her husband, but she did not care. Tavin was the man she wished to spend her life with.
They walked down the stairs and Moira paused at the closed door of the keep, knowing that on the other side the entire village waited.
Tavin waited.
Will was standing at the door, dressed in McPherson plaid. “Mah lady,” he stated, bowing. “I have a horse out back if yer not sure about this.”
Moira smiled, reaching out and grasping his arm. “I know ye dinnae like him but Tavin’s a good man.”
Will let out a breath. “Aye, he is, and he makes ye happy. ’Tis all that the rest of us need tae know.”
Her heart warmed at Will’s declaration, knowing that he had not been happy about her decision. “Thank ye.”
He gave her a short nod, arching a brow. “So, no need for yer horse?”
“Stop!” Fennella admonished him with a wink. “Moira is going tae marry him.”
Will sighed, proffering his arm. “Well, let’s get ye good and married then.”
Moira smiled and he opened the door, the two stepping out in the sunshine with her sisters following close behind. Moira’s breath caught as she saw that the entire village had turned out for the wedding.
But it was the sight of her soon-to-be husband standing next to the elder that had her heart clenching in her chest. He was so handsome, standing there in his tartan kilt, a crisp white shirt covering his broad chest. His hair was pulled back and he had his sword at his side, his jaw clenched but his eyes on her.
And when he saw her skirts, a grin lifted on his lips, his eyes shining with love for her.
Moira took her place before him, the smell of jasmine that was woven into her hair floating in the breeze. “Moira, love,” he whispered, his eyes filling with emotion. “What have ye done?”
She reached out, acutely aware that the elder was frowning at them, and took his hand, rubbing her thumb over his skin. “This is the union of two clans Tavin, not just ye marrying into mine. I will proudly wear yer tartan.”
The elder cleared his throat. “Are ye ready tae begin or should we start on the ale first?”
They both laughed but did not release each other’s hands throughout the ceremony.
She never wanted to part from him again.
Moira sighed happily as she swayed in Tavin’s arms, her chest resting against his.
Her body was warmed from the many toasts she had partaken in and her heart was overflowing from the love this night had brought.
It wasn’t just the love between her and Tavin.
No, it was the love of her family that were present, the love of her clan that was sharing in her happiness.
“Lass, ’tis time for us tae have some time alone,” Tavin murmured in her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin. “I cannae wait tae have ye.”
Moira shivered, pulling back to look at her husband. “Then take me, Husband.”
He grinned. “I like the sound of that, Wife.”
Moira stepped from the circle of his embrace and he took her hand, leading her away from the crowd that was celebrating their nuptials. Blushing, she allowed him to take her into the keep and up the stairs, where her chambers had been prepared for their marriage bed.
The moment the door closed, Moira was aware of how tall her husband was, how small her chamber felt with him in it. “Dinnae be afraid lass,” he said softly, the firelight illuminating the red in his hair. “I willnae harm ye.”
Moira straightened her shoulders. “I know ye will never harm me, Husband.”
He framed her face with his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks lightly. “I love ye, Moira. I dinnae think ye know just how much.”
She cupped his cheek. “I have a good idea.” It was the same she felt in her heart, the same she felt when she looked at him and knew that he was the man for her.
Her Scot, her brave Scot that had saved her life and that of her clan’s.
When he bent down, she closed her eyes, feeling the taste of his lips against hers.
He moved slow, savoring each touch, and Moira slid her hands up over his arms, caressing his shoulders.
When he reached for the laces on the front of her gown, Moira gasped into his mouth, feeling the glide of his fingers on her bare skin.
Tavin stepped back and concentrated on the laces, while Moira released the leather thong that held his hair back. “Yer hair is a sin,” she whispered, threading her hands through it.
He opened her bodice, pushing the fabric off her shoulder. “And yer beautiful, love.”
Moira helped him get the dress off, stepping out of the gown and clad in only her shift, started working on Tavin’s clothes. Her fingers shook as she helped him pull his shirt over his head and release the fastenings on his kilt.
When she stepped back, Moira’s cheeks flushed as she took in her husband’s naked form. “Tavin.”
“Moira, love,” he whispered, his hands on the hem of her shift. “Let me see ye.”
Unafraid, she pulled the shift over her head, hearing his swift intake of breath. When his fingers reached out and caressed her breast, Moira arched against him, wanting him to touch her all over. She felt as if she were on fire for him.
Always for him.
Tavin guided them to the bed, his lips starting with hers before trailing down her neck. “I’m going tae make ye scream mah name.”
Oh, she hoped so! Her hands slid over his broad back as he took one of her nipples in his mouth, suckling gently. Moira gasped as her stomach clenched in response, holding his head so that he wouldn’t stop doing wondrous things to her body.
His hand slipped down her body, caressing her stomach before sliding between the curls at the apex of her thighs, brushing across the place that ached for him the most. “Yer wet for me,” he whispered as he moved to the other breast.
When he touched her lightly, she gasped, clutching his head. “Tavin.”
“That’s it, love,” he urged.
Moira felt the pressure build and she clung to her husband, crying out his name as the waves of pleasure overtook her.
Tavin pressed his lips to her forehead. “This will hurt...”
Moira wrapped her legs around him, urging him on. “I’m not afraid.”
“Aye, ye shouldnae be. Never of me.”
When he pushed into her, she gasped, feeling him broach her maidenhead in one swift motion. There was a moment of burning, but Moira was too aware of Tavin’s warmth surrounding them, his love infusing with hers.
When he started to move, she moved with him, until they were both groaning with pleasure. So, this is what it is like to love someone so deeply, so completely, she thought.
Tavin’s eyes were on hers as he thrust into her, his intense gaze nearly taking her breath away. Moira felt the pressure start to build and Tavin grunted, bringing her to the point of pleasure that had her crying out his name before he spilled his seed inside, collapsing on top of her.
For a moment they lay there, their hearts pounding in unison. “Och, love,” Tavin finally said as he rolled off her. “I could sleep for days.”
Moira snuggled up to his side, laying her head on his chest as he pulled the covers over them. “Then let’s do.”
A month later
Moira stood beside her husband as they looked up at the keep that had been his childhood home, knowing that Tavin was nervous about entering.
The correspondence had come two weeks prior that the clans agreed with her.
Tavin was to be the new laird of Clan Stuart.
He had been shocked but secretly Moira was glad that he was going to be a laird.
Not because she had married him. No, she would have married him if he were just a stablehand working in her stables.
It was because Tavin deserved it. He had been a pawn in his da’s evil plans, under the pretense that they were going to one day resurrect their clan. The clan deserved a fair ruler and that was who her husband was.
“I cannae do it.”
Moira stepped before him, framing his face with her hands, something he did to her many times when she was struggling herself. “Ye can do it,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. “And I will be right by yer side as ye do.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “I dinnae deserve ye.”
She chuckled. “Nay ye dinnae but I love ye anyway.”
Tavin chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth before straightening. “Come, Lady Stuart. ’Tis time for ye tae see mah home.”
Moira pressed her lips together to hide her smile. While pulling the two clans together would be difficult, there would be good people that needed a leader, and Tavin was to be that leader.
They stepped inside the dirty keep, Moira giving him an encouraging smile, sliding her arm in his. “Show me yer home, Husband.”
Tavin’s shoulders straightened as he started to show her his birthplace, Moira seeing the keep as he saw it, already deciding that they would make it into another home for their family, amongst the clan that Tavin would lead.
While she would always be a McPherson and have her own clan to lead, Tavin’s was equally important.
One day, when they had bairns of their own, Moira would tell them the tale of the strong, brave Scot that had saved the life of a clan from his own family.
She would tell them of how the Scot had stolen the lady of the keep’s heart and given her love beyond compare, making her the happiest lass in all of Scotland.
Because that was what Tavin brought to her.
He was her love, the man that had been placed on this earth for her, and she would fight to the very end to keep him. Leaning close, she tugged on his arm. “Tavin.”
He looked down. “Aye?”
“Where is yer bed chamber?”
It took him a moment to understand the meaning of her words, a grin appearing on his face. “Aye lass, that would be in the barn.”
Puzzled, she arched a brow. “The barn?”
He pulled her close, nuzzling her neck. “I spent many a day in the barn in yer village too. ’Tis where I am most comfortable.”
The barn. He would never cease to amaze her. “Then show me the barn.”
His grin was downright infectious. “Truly?”
She nodded, cupping him where she knew she could elicit a groan out of him. “Now, Husband.”
“Och love, ye are going tae be the death of me.”
That wasn’t the first time she had heard those words and Moira gathered it wouldn’t be the last. Tomorrow they would introduce themselves to his clan and give the speech of a lifetime.
But for now, she wanted her husband to tup her in the hay.