Epilogue
“She’s here!” Ian slowly shook his head in amazement as he gazed at the sleek merchant vessel off the coast of Colonsay.
Jo smiled. “She is a beauty!”
Ian seized her and crushed her to his chest. “The Messenger certainly is, but I meant Rose. I can’t wait for ye two to meet.”
He turned his gaze toward the crescent shore. “What do ye think, Abbot? Is it everything ye imagined Colonsay to be?”
The abbot smiled. “After sending off so many of my agents here, glad I am to see it with mine own eyes, although I won’t mind telling ye, I’m most excited for the prospect of dry land.”
“What about ye, blacksmith?”
Ramsay had barely stopped smiling from the moment they had stepped down into the skiff and set off from the mainland. He gripped the steering rudder in his massive fist and closed his eyes, deeply inhaling the tangy sea air. “’Tis grand, indeed.”
“Then stay the course, Captain Ramsay, and bring us into shore.”
The keel of their skiff carved into sandy shore. Ian and Ramsay jumped into the barreling surf, and, each manning a side, dragged the small vessel further ashore. Then Ian reached up, placed his hands at Jo’s waist and swung her into his arms.
He smiled at Ramsay as he passed by. “Ye can carry the abbot.”
“Don’t even think about it, blacksmith. A simple hand down will suffice.”
Jo laughed, her bright mismatched eyes beaming with pleasure. “Are ye sure ye wouldn’t rather be cradling the abbot right now.”
“I heard that!”
Ian threw his head back with laughter. Then he shifted his gaze forward, taking in the sloping shore and jutting rocks, which bordered the expansive meadow of sea grass, swaying and shivering in the breeze.
“What’s this?” he said aloud, looking beyond the meadow to the row of cottages that belonged to his family. Ropes of sea grass woven with prime roses were strung from poles that rose up around three large trencher tables set in rows.
Jo beamed. “They must be preparing for a celebration.”
“Aye, but what is the occasion?” He turned about, walking backwards up the slope with Jo still in his arms. He called to the abbot, who was, indeed, walking on his own two legs, although Ian noticed he did appear to be little unsteady. “Is today a feast day?”
The abbot tilted to one side, but Ramsay caught his arm and helped him straighten. “Not of which I’m aware.”
“I know,” Jo burst out excitedly. “Mayhap yer brother, Alec, had a vison of our homecoming, and they put together a gathering to celebrate.”
Ian lifted his shoulders and picked up his pace. “There is only one way to find out.” He set her down and threw his head back and whooped to the sky. Then, seizing her hand, he rushed forward, pulling her along behind him.
The cottage doorways swung open almost at the same time. Jack and Bella; Quinn and Catarina; Rory and Alex; and Alec and Joanie all stepped out. After a moment passed, their faces brightened with recognition and they poured from their cottages, rushing to greet their youngest brother.
Ian charged forward and greeted each of his brothers in turn, lifting them high off the ground and squeezing them until they each begged for release. To their, strong and beautiful wives, he bowed first, then kissed each one on the cheek before turning to his bride.
“Everyone, this is my Jo.” He grinned. “I mean, this is my wife, Jo. Jo, this is everyone!”
Jo smiled graciously. “Ian has told me so much about ye all that I feel like we’re old friends, not new acquaintances.”
Bella came forward. “We’re neither old friends nor acquaintances. We are sisters!”
Tears flooded Jo’s eyes as she opened her arms wide. “I’ve always dreamed of having sisters.” The MacVie wives came together and embraced. Ian’s heart swelled at the sight.
Then a din that could match that of an army on the move suddenly rent the air as a choir of laughter and squeals reached their ears. Led by Moira, the eldest of Jack’s lassies, the MacVie children thundered toward them.
“The bigger girls and that wee lass there with the long blond braid belong to Jack and me,” Bella said, her pale green eyes shining amid her olive skin made darker by the Island sun.
Alex grabbed Ian and Jo’s arms and turned them about. “That rascal with the black hair and showy, good looks like his father is mine,” she said, winking at Rory.
“The black hair is the only feature ye can credit me for. He’s yer son through and through,” Rory shot back.
Laughing, Catarina, came forward, her hands at rest on her son’s shoulders. “Do ye remember, Uncle Ian.”
The lad smiled. “Of course, I do.”
Ian scooped him up in his arms. “Nicholas, yer almost as tall as me! Keep on growing and I won’t be able to do this for much longer.” Ian turned to Jo. “This is yer Aunt Josselyn.”
“Aunt Jo, if ye please,” she said laughing. Jo beamed as Catarina and Quinn’s eldest child reached for her, giving her a big hug.
“Thank ye for such a fine welcome,” she beamed.
Ian set the lad back on the ground, and he raced off down the shore to throw rocks with some of the other children.
“Over by the waves, do ye see that wild thing with tangled black hair, that’s our youngest. Her name is Freya,” Catarina said, her face shining with pride.
Jo smiled. “Such spirit! I love her already!”
Ian put his arm around Jo’s waist and led her to where Alec and Joanie were standing together. “Now, the last time I saw ye, Joanie, yer belly was a wee bit bigger.”
Joanie blushed. “Indeed, it was.” Then she pointed behind her.
Ian hunkered down and looked behind Joanie. Clinging to her legs, was a wee lass with straight, glistening black hair and eyes as black as her father’s. She did not smile, nor did she shrink away. Instead, she looked at him with an intelligence far beyond her five years. “What’s yer name, lass.”
“Abagail.”
“I’m yer Uncle Ian.”
She nodded her head. “I ken.”
“Did yer da tell ye it was me?”
She shook her head.
“Then how did ye know?”
She shrugged. “I’ve seen ye before.”
He raised a brow at her. “When?”
A secretive smile upturned her lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone where the treasure is hidden.”
His eyes flashed wide. Then he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Ye take after yer father, I see.”
At this, Abagail’s face broke into a fierce grin. Ian ruffled her hair before straightening and meeting Alec’s gaze. “So, my wife was wondering if ye had a vision of our coming?”
Alec smiled. “Ye completely took us both by surprise,” he said, motioning toward Matthew.
Matthew came forward, then, and Ian turned to Jo. “This is Alec and Joanie’s adopted son, Matthew. He, too, has the Sight.”
When Jo met the young man’s gaze, her smiled faltered, but only for an instant, then it spread wider than Ian had ever seen it. “Ye’re like me,” she cried and tapped under one of Matthew’s eyes. “One brown eye.” Then she tapped under the other. “And one blue.”
Matthew beamed at her.
“So,” Ian called out. “My wife and I want to know what we’re celebrating!”
“Only the greatest news ye could ever hope to hear,” Jack said. “What say ye all—should we tell him...or should we show him?”
“Show him,” everyone shouted together.
“I want to lead the way!”
Ian turned around and whooped. “Florie, my sweet, wee lass!” He scooped Jack’s adopted lassie into his arms and pretended to sway beneath her weight. “I ken ye’ve always been partial to me holding ye lass, but ye’re getting so big.”
She grinned fiercely. “Mayhap, one day, I will be the one to carry ye.”
Laughing, he set Florie down and reached for Jo’s hand. “All right then, leader. Show us the way.”
Florie sprinted ahead, calling to the children playing in the surf to follow her.
“Where are we going,” Jo asked breathlessly, her face flushed and beautiful.
“My guess is to visit, Rose. Her cottage is beyond the jetties.”
They walked along the shore. Just as her cottage came into view, Rose swung the door wide and stepped outside.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Ian sank to his knees.
His chest tightened.
A well of emotion too great to contain rushed up his throat. “Rose,” he gasped and dropped his head in the sand and let go the flood.
Jo squatted down beside him. “Ian, what is it? Look at me?”
He could hear the sudden fear in her voice. He looked up and swiped at the tears streaming down his face. “’Tis Rose.”
“Ian,” Rose cried, suddenly spying her youngest brother. She dropped the basket of bannock she held in her hands and waddled toward him.
Ian sprinted forward. “Rose!” He dropped to his knees and placed his hands on her swollen belly. He had no words. His heart felt as if it might burst from his chest.
“Oh, stop crying,” Rose chided. “Or ye’ll make me cry, and then I’ll never stop.”
Taking a deep breath, Ian swiped his eyes again and stood up. His voice was choked when he called Jo to his side.
“This is my sister, Rose.” Then he once more pressed his hand to her rounded belly. “And this is her soon-to-be sweet, wee bairn.”
“My brother is not always such a sap,” Rose said, reaching to embrace Jo.
“Babies are always the best news,” Jo said brightly.
Rose nodded and smiled, rubbing her own stomach.
“This is a blessing that I thought I would never know again.” Rose’s red curls flew in front of her face, and she lost her balance.
Ian grabbed her, and she burst out laughing.
“Ye should have seen me on the ship, teetering and tottering. ‘Tis why we had to come home.”
“We arrived just yesterday.”
Ian turned and once more had to swallow the emotion rushing to the fore as he pulled Rose’s husband, Tristan, into his arms. “Thank ye,” was all Ian could think to say.
Tristan laughed. “It was no trouble. There is nothing I enjoy more than trying for a babe with my beautiful wife.”
Ian took a deep breath before glaring at his brothers. “Ye should have just told me.”
“And miss the opportunity of seeing ye blubber like the rest of us,” Rory laughed. “Never!”
They made their way back to the line of cottages where Ramsay and the abbot awaited them patiently.
The MacVie men hurried forward to greet the abbot.
Smiling, the abbot embraced each of the brothers in turn, and then Ramsay came forward. “We stayed back so ye could have time together as a family,” the blacksmith explained.
Ian shook his head. “But ye both are family.”
Jack came forward then. “Abbot, I am grateful and happy to see ye, but I must ask—What the blazes are ye doing here?”
The abbot smiled and gave a little shrug. “I thought all of ye,” he said, looking pointedly at Rory and Alex, who stood arm and arm with their daughter, “could use the company of a holy man.”
Ian met his eldest brother’s gaze. “The abbot has been unmasked, in a manner of speaking.”
“That’s right, lads. I’m now a wanted man.”
Quinn drew close, his brow furrowed. “But how can that be?”
The abbot put his arm around Quinn’s shoulders. “’Tis a tale to be told with good food and plenty of ale. Suffice it to say, that I am no longer the secret leader of the Scottish rebellion.” The abbot’s voice took on a more serious note. I am only a danger to my fellow monks now, and my agents.”
“What about ye,” Jack asked Ian. “Were ye caught as well?”
Ian smiled and shook his head. “Nay, I am still the only un-wanted MacVie.”
Jo slid her hand in his. “That’s not entirely true,” she said, her voice low and sultry.
Laughing, Ian scooped her into his arms and started toward the beautifully decorated tables. “I thought this was a celebration!” he called.
Everyone rushed forward to finish the preparations.
When all three trencher tables were filled with food and family, the Abbot Matthew stood and held his tankard high.
“Scotland’s coffers are full. Our king can now come out of hiding.
Our beloved sister is going to be a mother again.
The MacVies are all together for the first time....
well, in a long time, and I am here to enjoy it all. Alba gu bràth, my dear friends!”
The MacVie siblings, their adoring spouses, and their exquisite children raised their cups high. “Alba gu bràth!
Thank you for reading Ian: A Scottish Outlaw! What’s next?
Keep reading to find out!