Epilogue
One month later…
A month, in other circumstances, might have passed with little remark.
Yet to Margaret, the weeks that followed the events at the ruins bore the quiet distinction of trouble not merely endured but resolved.
The castle had returned to its customary rhythm, though it seemed to her that even its familiar sounds carried a lighter quality, as though some unseen weight had been lifted from its walls.
It was on such a morning, calm and untroubled, that the letter arrived.
Margaret was seated in the smaller drawing room, where the light fell generously through the tall windows, illuminating the neat arrangement of papers upon the table before her.
She had been reading, though not with the strict attention she might once have commanded of herself.
Her thoughts had wandered, as they had done more frequently of late, toward the future which was no longer uncertain, but not yet fully defined.
The door opened in a gush of air. Domhnall entered first, carrying a letter in hand. She noticed that its seal was already broken. Cameron followed close behind. As usual, his expression was attentive, though touched with a curiosity he did not attempt to conceal.
Margaret rose at once.
“Ye have news,” she smiled, guessing his intention.
Domhnall inclined his head slightly, allowing a flicker of amusement to curve his lips.
“Aye, it seems that nay one can keep a secret from ye.”
She chuckled, gesturing at the letter in his hand. “It wasnae hard tae guess.”
“It is from the Crown,” he continued, extending the letter toward her, though he did not release it immediately. “The matter has been judged.”
Margaret’s gaze moved briefly to Cameron, who had come to stand near the table. His attention was also fixed entirely upon the letter. She took it. The parchment was formal, the language precise, and though she read it with care, she required only a few lines to understand its meaning.
Her father would not be released nor would Sir Laurence Kerr.
They were to be confined for the remainder of their lives, stripped from influence, from power, from any capacity to act further upon the harm they had attempted.
Margaret did not feel triumph, only a quiet, steady certainty that what had been threatened was now, at last, beyond reach.
“It is done,” she said softly.
Domhnall watched her. “Aye.”
She folded the letter carefully, setting it aside with a composure that did not entirely conceal the relief beneath it.
“And what of MacGregor lands?” she asked.
Domhnall’s expression did not change. He still wore that lit up expression, as if he knew a secret the other two did not. At least not yet.
“Aye, that is the second thing I wished tae discuss with ye,” he revealed. “MacGregor left nay heirs, and nay kin tae claim what was his.”
Margaret inclined her head. That was odd, though not unheard of. And it brought a sort of finality within itself.
Domhnall turned then, his gaze shifting briefly to Cameron.
“The land, however, daesnae remain unclaimed. It has been granted.”
Cameron stilled. Margaret saw the instinctive restraint of a man who did not assume favor, even when it stood plainly before him.
“Tae whom?” Cameron asked, clearly stunned to hear this.
Domhnall regarded him, allowing his smile to widen from ear to ear.
“Tae ye, me friend.”
Margaret had never heard a silence so full. Cameron did not speak. He did not step forward, nor did he offer immediate thanks. Instead, he seemed, for a moment, to consider the weight of what had been said not as a gift, but as a responsibility.
“Me laird,” he began, though his voice carried none of its usual certainty, “that is nae—”
“It is,” Domhnall said, cutting gently across the protest before it could fully form. “The land requires a man who understands it, who will hold it.”
Cameron’s gaze did not waver, and this was the moment when his truly humble nature shone bright.
“There are others—”
“There are nae, I insisted it must be ye,” Domhnall replied.
There was no force in his tone and no insistence beyond the truth of it. Margaret watched as the meaning of it settled. Cameron drew a breath.
“I… dinnae ken how tae thank ye, me laird,” he said, still struggling to find the right words to express himself.
Domhnall approached him, then clapped him on the shoulder in a sound that broken through the confused silence.
“Ye need nae,” he said. “Ye have already earned it.”
Cameron inclined his head then, not as one receiving favor, but as one acknowledging something given in full measure.
“I willnae fail ye.”
Domhnall gave a slight nod. “I ken that.”
The matter, once spoken, required no further elaboration. It was a closing of what had long remained unsettled, and a beginning not marked by uncertainty, but by choice.
She glanced toward Domhnall. He had not spoken more than was necessary. He rarely did. Now, there was no longer anything withheld between them that required fear.
Cameron did not linger. He offered his thanks once more, more quietly this time, and without the restraint that had marked his earlier composure and then withdrew, leaving them alone in the softened light of the chamber.
The door closed behind him. Margaret remained where she stood, her hand still resting lightly upon the back of the chair, as though the moment had not yet fully settled into certainty.
She had watched Cameron go with a quiet satisfaction, pleased not only for him, but for the ease with which the decision had been made.
It felt… right.
She turned slightly, intending to speak, though she did not yet know what she would say, when she became aware of Domhnall behind her.
She did not move away. His presence had long since ceased to startle her.
His arms came about her waist without haste, but with unmistakable intent, drawing her gently back against him.
The quiet assurance of that simple gesture grounded her more completely than any words might have done.
“Ye look pleased,” he pointed out with a grin.
It was not a question. Margaret allowed herself the smallest smile.
“I am,” she replied. “Though I suspect Cameron is rather more so.”
“Aye,” Domhnall said, his tone carrying the faintest trace of amusement. “He hides it poorly.”
Margaret laughed softly.
“That is because he daesnae expect such things tae be given tae him.”
“Nor should he,” Domhnall returned. “They are nae given.”
She tilted her head slightly, glancing back at him.
“And yet, ye gave them.”
His gaze met hers. “I merely recognized what was already his.”
She was proud of him at that moment, at the laird that he was.
“Ye are nae always as unyielding as ye would have others believe,” she said.
Domhnall’s expression did not alter greatly, though she saw the faint shift at the corner of his mouth.
“Just dinnae make the mistake of telling anyone that,” he replied.
“I shall keep it as me greatest secret,” she said lightly.
His hold tightened. “I would expect naething less. There is another thing I would like tae discuss with ye, Margaret. Yer faither’s lands. Ye ken his property automatically goes tae the husband of his oldest daughter.”
“Aye,” she nodded.
“So, I will become laird of those lands and intend tae maintain yer birthright as best I can. But… I was thinking that perhaps ye would like tae ask Eleonor and her husband if they would like tae move there and administer them?”
“Oh, Domhnall, would ye really dae that? Thank ye, it would mean the world tae me!” she exclaimed, as she flung herself into his arms.
He hugged her tightly and felt a joy he thought he never would again.
The ease between them lingered for a moment. Domhnall did not release her. Instead, he turned her more fully toward him, with his hands steady at her waist. His eyes held hers with a focus that quieted even the smallest movement of thought.
“Margaret,” he said.
He spoke her name in a way that stilled her entirely.
“Aye?”
For a man who rarely hesitated, the pause was notable.
“I have given thought,” he spoke slowly, carefully choosing each word that he laid before her, “tae what comes next.”
Margaret felt her breath catch, though she did not know why.
“And what did ye find?” she asked, her voice softer now.
“That what we have built,” he said, “shouldnae end with us.”
She searched his expression, uncertain of his meaning, until she saw it.
She understood it. She felt it.
“I… would… like tae have a child with ye.”
The words were simple, and yet, she had never heard a more beautiful combination of them in her entire life.
She could feel the sudden, overwhelming clarity of it, and it left her speechless.
To say that she had not expected it would be a dire understatement, and yet, when the meaning settled within her, she found that it did not surprise her as much as it might have done.
It felt righter than anything else.
“Ye would?” she wondered playfully.
Domhnall’s gaze did not waver. “Aye. I love ye.”
There was no elaboration. It was perfectly in line with his character. Margaret felt joy so sudden and unguarded that she could not, and did not wish to, conceal it.
“I should like that very much,” she said, beaming at the very thought.
His hands drew her closer and she went willingly, her hands rising to rest lightly against him as she met his gaze once more.
For a moment, they simply looked at one another.
Everything that had passed between them, the conflict, the danger, the quiet understanding that had grown where neither had intended it, seemed to settle into that single, shared space.
And then, she leaned into him. In that kiss, she could feel all the certainty of their future that was to unravel before them, a future that was entirely theirs.
When at last they parted, she did not step away, nor did he release her. For the first time, Margaret did not feel as though she stood within a life shaped by others.
She stood within one she had chosen… with him.
But there’s more…