Epilogue
Later, after the Douglas jewels were locked safely away, Robert turned to Meleri. “Come lass, I will walk you upstairs.”
“You must leave soon for England with the money for the Earl of Drummond.”
“Aye, we haven’t much time,” he replied. “Less than a fortnight. How does it feel to be the lass who saved Beloyn?”
“It feels better to be the lass who married the present Black Douglas.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I am trying to understand everything that has happened today and how my ancestor fits in with the picture.”
He folded her in his arms and kissed her. “First we take the money to Drummond, then we find out more about your ancestor. It has been quite a day. Are you tired?”
“A little.” If the truth were known, she could not think about being tired at a time like this, for she was so taken by his comforting presence, the way he had supported her, the patience and understanding that became his symbol as much as the Douglas plaid or the family crest. It was difficult to keep from crying over the sadness of losing the earl and the joy of having found such a man to love for the rest of her life.
His arms tightened around her, his lips moving softly over her cheek. “Remind me to tell you sometime how proud I am of you.” He took her hand. “Come on. You should rest before dinner. We have a lot to celebrate tonight.”
She walked with him, arm in arm, through the gallery toward the stairs, thinking how many times she had walked beneath this high ornamental ceiling to gaze upon the beautiful curving staircase. As always, the dogs were in their customary positions at the bottom of the stairs, but as they drew closer, she could see Corrie and Dram were not still and tense, or gazing along the row of pictures in the gallery. They were asleep.
As was her habit, Meleri gazed upon the sober and dignified faces of centuries of Douglas ancestors staring out at her as they passed. Only this time was different, although she was not certain why. Everything looked the same, from the ornate carvings of fruit and flowers that adorned the black wainscoting to the portraits lining the walls. But, unlike all the times before, she did not feel the oppressive mood that always hung over the gallery. Nor did she have the strange feeling, as she passed, that they were all watching her. It was as if everything had changed, as if they all knew and somehow approved.
“Hello, my loves,” she said, stopping to pat Corrie and Dram, who’d heard them coming and leaped to their feet, eager to greet them.
Robert stopped beside her and she turned toward him, warming at the look on his face. Her heart was too full of happiness to speak and she hoped he could see all the love she felt in her eyes. He will be the father of my children.
The thought had no more than flashed through her mind, when she was filled with a comforting assurance, and suddenly she knew a son would soon come. A son they would name William.
She imagined the way the castle would look with its wing restored, and of the man she loved with all her being, the future they had ahead of them. She wondered how it came to be that a temperamental English lass had been so fortunate to become the bride of one man, who came from a long line of men known as Black Douglas.
A shaft of late afternoon sun broke through the window and Meleri felt the warmth of Robert’s hand close around hers. From somewhere deep in the castle came the haunting skirl of bagpipes, reminding her that only one thing was missing to make her happiness complete.
They reached the portrait of the first earl. “I shall always treasure this picture,” she said, and paused a moment to look at the place his image had once been.
Only now, he was there, looking as magnificent as he had when she saw him last. How lifelike he looked—almost alive—standing the way she had seen him so many times, with his legs planted far apart and his arms crossed in front of him, his great black cape swirling out behind him, a glimmer in his deep blue eyes, a smile upon his lips.
Tears gathered in her eyes. “You returned to the painting, just as you said.” She put her hand on his image in the portrait and was surprised to discover it was warm. “I shall miss you forever,” she said. “If only you could have stayed.”
“Don’t cry lass. He would not want to see you so sad.” Robert drew her arm through his, and the two of them started up the stairs.
“I truly came to love him,” she said, “to love living in a haunted castle. He was like a father. It is difficult to think I will never see him again, heartbreaking to realize it is over.”
Then from below in the portrait gallery she heard it. Bam!