Epilogue
“Ye look as though ye might be sick, Da.”
Dougal looked down at Lily, who was dressed up in her new frock with ribbons that matched those worn by Skye right down to the last stitch, and could not help but concede.
His chest had clenched when he woke that morning, and the tightness had not eased. Not through getting dressed. Not through Stephen’s taunts. Not even right here at the front of the hall, surrounded by guests.
“I am nae going to be sick, Lily.”
“Ye look it all the same.” She tugged at his sleeve, entirely unbothered by the solemnity of the occasion, the way only a child of eight could manage. “Grandmaither says that grooms always look like this before their weddings. She said Grandda looked green as a frog on their wedding day.”
“Did he now?” Dougal found himself smiling despite the churning in his gut, despite the weight of every eye stare.
“Aye. Green as a frog, and twice as clumsy, she said.” Lily beamed up at him, clearly delighted with her own retelling. “Are ye going to be clumsy too, Da?”
“I sincerely hope nae.”
Stephen, standing at his shoulder with an expression far too pleased for his liking, leaned in just enough to be heard. “Ye’ve faced down armies with a steadier hand than this, me Laird. I daenae think I’ve ever seen ye look so thoroughly rattled.”
“An army I ken how to fight, Stephen.”
“And this ye daenae?”
Dougal didn’t answer right away, his gaze drifting toward the doors at the far end of the hall, still closed, still holding back the one thing he’d spent seven years convincing himself he’d never have again.
“This is different.”
“Aye, I imagine it is.” Stephen’s voice softened. “For what it’s worth, Dougal, I’ve never once seen ye look more certain of anything, whatever state yer stomach’s currently in.”
Kenna appeared at his other side then, reaching up to straighten his collar the way she’d done since he was a boy far too small to stand still for it. “Ye’ll do fine, son.”
“Will I, Maither?”
“Aye.” She patted his arm, her eyes suspiciously bright. “Yer faither looked the same the day he married me. Terrified half out of his wits but happier than I’d ever seen him look before or since.”
“I only hope I daenae make a fool of meself in front of these people, after everything they whispered about me these past years.”
“Ye willnae.” Kenna’s voice was firm, brooking no argument. “And even if ye did, I daenae think Skye would love ye any less for it. She’s never once cared what people whispered.”
Lily tugged at his sleeve again, more insistent this time. “Da, ye’re doing the far-away face again. Ye’re supposed to be watching the doors.”
“Am I, now?” Dougal glanced down at her, something in his chest easing at the simple, uncomplicated certainty on her small face. “And what would ye have me do instead, little one?”
Lily opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, the doors opened, revealing Skye in an ivory gown. A plaid was draped across her shoulder and pinned with Kenna’s brooch, and her dark hair was pinned back loosely.
Dougal had never seen something so beautiful.
Kaden walked her down the aisle, muttering something to her. She teared up, leaning up to kiss his cheek. For a moment, Dougal wondered if her brother was trying to convince her not to marry him, but he knew that was foolish.
He and Kaden had bonded in the past month. Skye had seen to it that they bridged the chasm between them before she walked down the aisle. It was important to her that they got along.
When she stopped before him, she beamed.
The priest rattled off his usual speech, but Dougal barely heard any of it until they had to say their vows. They tumbled out, but he kept speaking. He was going to get through this and let Skye know how much he cared about her.
Skye then spoke her vows, tears streaming down her cheeks, before the priest finally said the words he had been aching to hear.
“I now pronounce ye husband and wife. Ye may kiss the bride, me Laird.”
Dougal did not waste time, leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss.
The hall erupted in hearty applause and cheers. Some guests even whistled. Lily was laughing and clapping her hands together.
Somewhere at the back of the hall, a goat bleated.
“Skye.”
“Aye?”
“Did Lily sneak the goat in?”
Skye bit back a laugh. “Aye, I think she did.”
“And what of the cat?”
“She hid Blossom in her skirts.”
Dougal chuckled.
Nothing could be more perfect. Everything looked exactly as it should be—the wedding of two people deeply in love who had finally found their way to each other.
“We’ll find hoofprints on the chapel floor by morning,” Dougal said, shaking his head.
“Undoubtedly,” Skye said, smiling. “Ye ken she’ll deny it till her dying breath.”
“Aye, she’ll swear on her life that Goat simply wandered in on his own.”
“With Blossom riding on his back, no less.”
Dougal laughed, low and warm, drawing a few curious glances from the guests nearest them. He didn’t care. Let them wonder.
“I suppose we should be grateful that she didnae try to smuggle in the horses as well.”
“Daenae give her ideas,” Skye warned, though her eyes were bright with laughter. “There’s still the reception to survive.”
Dougal took her hand, lacing their fingers together, and for a moment, the noise in the hall faded to nothing.
“Whatever chaos that lass brings today,” he murmured, “I wouldnae have it any other way.”
“Neither would I.”
And Skye meant it, every last bit of it, the goat and the cat and the girl who loved them both fiercely enough to smuggle them into a wedding. It was messy and unplanned and entirely theirs.
It was exactly as it should be.
Dougal still wasn’t sure how Lily had managed to sneak the goat in. But one glance at Stephen’s face told him that his friend had played some part in it.
All Lily had to do was ask her Uncle Stephen, and he would give in, willing to do whatever she asked. Skye had once said that Lily had Dougal wrapped around her finger, but the same clearly applied to Stephen.
“So, did ye help her?” Dougal asked him.
“Aye, but ye try saying no to Lily when she’s looking up at ye with those big, round eyes,” Stephen snorted. “It’s impossible, Dougal!”
Kenna patted him on the shoulder. “Aye, we’ve all been there, but it all worked out in the end, so no harm done.”
At that moment, the goat decided to chew on some of the flowers. The soft crunching drew the attention of everyone nearby.
“No!” Lily cried.
Skye laughed. “Dougal, yer goat is eating the flowers.”
“He isnae me goat,” Dougal muttered. “He’s Lily’s goat. When did I get the goat?”
Lily pouted. “Sorry, Da. He is really hungry, even though I fed him before we came here! I made him promise nae to eat anything, but he didnae listen.”
“It’s all right, Lily,” Skye said, smiling brightly.
If anyone had told Dougal that he would be married to Skye months later and happy, he would not have believed them. Then again, he had never thought anyone would marry him. He had been ready to spend the rest of his life alone, and he had been content with that.
Perhaps “content” was not the right word. Rather, he had just resigned himself to the fact that this was to be his life because of the rumors that followed him no matter where he went.
Then he had met Skye.
When the two of them first met, he was intrigued by her. Neither of them wanted to marry the other. It was all for show. Skye was going to help him restore his reputation, and he was going to help her finish her story.
For lack of a better term, the two of them had been stuck with one another for the month. But things had changed so much and so quickly; sometimes it all felt like a dream.
He no longer kept himself hidden from the world. He was no longer angry at the world, having stopped letting people believe whatever rumors they wanted about him.
Skye was sleeping now, her back turned toward him. He pressed a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder, chuckling when she mumbled something in her sleep. It spurred him to do it again until he was nibbling softly on her neck.
“Dougal, must ye wake me so early?” she croaked.
He laughed. “I must leave soon. There is a council meeting today, and as the Laird, I am expected to preside over it.”
“Of course ye are,” she said with a soft giggle. “Who else but ye would preside over the meeting?”
“Stephen could, as me second-in-command, but I daenae ken if he’d be happy about that.”
Skye giggled again. “Then ye should get up and get ready for the meeting. I’ll be here when ye return.”
“Practicing?”
“Aye,” she admitted.
She had been playing the violin every night of late. It had become a tradition. After dinner, they would all retire to the music room where she would play for everyone.
Dougal had never imagined himself having such a happy life, but he had grown to love every part of it…
the chaos of a goat underfoot, the sound of Skye's violin drifting through the halls in the evenings, Lily's laughter chasing away every last shadow the mask had once cast over this house.
He thought of the man he'd been seven years ago, certain he'd live and die behind stone walls with nothing but rumor for company, and could hardly recognize him anymore.
He had everything he needed already, right here in this room.
The End?