Epilogue
Drumloch Manor, Scottish Borders
FROM THE PRIVATE JOURNAL OF CATHERINE MACDONALD
I have decided that today, since the weather is fine, I shall write in my new journal from the stone circle at Drumloch—the place where my life truly began ten years ago.
I can scarcely believe it has been a full decade since Lachlan found me here. So much has happened since then—marriage, children. More children …
Since our wedding day, we have been living in the West Tower of Kinloch Castle.
Lachlan continues to hold the title Laird of War.
He and Angus are as close as ever. I have also grown close to Angus’s wife Gwendolen, who is like a true sister to me.
Our children play together every day. (We have seven children.
Angus and Gwendolen have six, but Gwen is expecting another in the spring.) Sometimes I want to pinch myself when I think of how happy we all are.
Twice a year we travel to Moncrieffe Castle to visit Angus’s good friend, Duncan MacLean, who was recently awarded a dukedom for his tireless efforts to fight for Scottish rights, while still supporting the Union of Great Britain. He is a brilliant diplomat and a great favorite of the King.
Duncan’s wife Amelia, the duchess, is an Englishwoman and she, too, is well loved by the King.
Just last month she sent me a beautiful diamond brooch as a gift to commemorate my tenth wedding anniversary.
I was deeply touched by the gesture, and Lachlan—not to be outdone—gave me this leather-bound journal to write in, and promised to take me home to Drumloch for Christmas to visit my twin.
It is the one thing he knew meant more to me than any priceless jewel.
Raonaid is transformed. She is no longer an outcast, but is instead mistress of this great house, Drumloch Manor.
She and Cousin John have become good friends and his kindness and loyalty have softened her heart in the most remarkable way.
She now believes in happiness and the blessings of a close family, and she is the most tender person.
We write letters to each other often and sometimes in our dreams we reach out to each other. I have difficulty explaining it in words, but we are somehow connected on a spiritual level that defies reason.
But isn’t it the same with love? It is simply not possible to see it or define it, but it exists just the same with more strength and power than any sword or musket.
My husband and my children are the core of my life. I would die for any one of them and I know they would do the same for me.
Oh, look, here comes Lachlan now. He is walking up the hill to fetch me for dinner. Raonaid and John have promised a great feast, and I am famished.
If only you could see how handsome he is in the winter light. How is it possible that I have married such a beautiful man? Sometimes I still wonder if it’s all a dream, for he always makes my heart soar, and I love him more with every passing day.
Here he is now. I must go. I shall write again tomorrow, I promise.
Catherine