Page 29 of Married to the Scarred Highlander (Unwanted Highland Wives #4)

EPILOGUE

A Year Later

The festival grounds bustled with energy, alive with the colors of banners from every neighboring clan. The music swelled in the air, pipes and drums setting a merry rhythm that had even the youngest bairns clapping along. Fires roared in large pits, and the scent of roast meats and freshly baked sweet bannocks mingled in the crisp air.

“Good day, Lady MacAitken,” Laura heard Mack’s familiar voice holler over the crowd, beckoning her over.

“Well, good day, Mack! Good to see ye!” she said cheerfully, nudging Fraser encouragingly toward the man. “Go on, laddie—it hasnae been too long since ye last saw that mug.”

Mack reached for the boy, who was happy to be lifted into his arms. “How are ye, lad? Well?” he murmured.

Laura just smiled.

“Cannae stand the sight o’ ye, lass. Much too happy,” Mack said with a wide grin and a wink.

“Come now, Mack,” Laura said, extending her arms to take Fraser. “Ye ken well enough that I was ne’er one to do what anyone thought I should do.”

“Oh, aye. Free as the birds in the sky—always said so,” Mack said warmly, then let out a low, hearty laugh.

Laura nodded her farewell and turned, her gaze sweeping over the wild scene in front of her.

The vast garden had been transformed into a vibrant gathering place, filled with laughter and the lively chatter of kin and allies alike. Every villager had shown up in support of the festival and celebrations as well.

Ana Kilmartin brought a stall of herbs, and Mack had even hauled their chest of drawers to the glen. Laura couldn’t help herself—she gently tugged open one of the drawers. Inside was a surprise unlike anything she could have anticipated. The most delicate spindles of saffron lay there, and her fingers itched to touch them.

“Where did ye get this saffron, Ana?” she asked dreamily.

“A man came through town a few days ago. Mack traded two ewes for what’s in there,” Ana said, coming around the stall to the drawers.

“ Two? Heavens, that’s ridiculous!”

“Aye,” Ana said, a smile spread across her lips. “Take some, I ken ye want to.”

“I dinnae have any coin with me, but I’ll come by the stall later this week and gather?—”

“Nonsense, take some now. And then come pay for some later, if ye must. But this is for ye,” Ana insisted, placing a few pinches of the spice into a sachet and twisting the loops into a knot.

“Good afternoon, Miss—er—I mean, Me Lady,” a familiar voice called out.

Laura turned around just in time to see young Kerry Duran stumble to a halt right in front of her.

“Good day, Kerry. How are things going at the vegetable stall?” she asked, looking over at where his mother stood.

She lifted a hand and waved at Fiona and Tormod, who had both been watching them.

“Me parents wished for me to bring this over to ye—it’s for Fraser!” The boy held out a wax-paper enveloped treat to her, and she took it gratefully.

“What is it, laddie?” Laura asked.

“Honeyed parsnips! Me favorite!”

“Yer favorite?”

“Aye!”

“Do ye wish to share them with us? I see there are only three in here,” Laura asked, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

“I’d love to have one!” the boy said cheerfully.

She let him take the biggest parsnip. Then, she fed one to Fraser and wrapped the last one back up, putting it in her pocket.

“ Ta , Miss!—er—Me Lady!” Kerry said cheerfully as he skipped away, back to his parents, who waved graciously in her direction.

Laura waved back and then continued down the gravel pathway.

It felt strange to her, standing in the middle of so many people who had, until recently, feared their Laird. And yet here he was, their leader, their host, smiling at them, standing tall and proud with his family at his side.

Fraser squirmed in her arms, and she set him down, watching as he sprinted toward Ciaran and grabbed onto his leg. Ciaran easily scooped him up, his dark eyes softening as Fraser spoke excitedly.

“The lad has more to say than his da these days,” Adam mused, walking up to her with a cup of ale in hand. He grinned at his nephew and ruffled his red curls. “And look at ye, holdin’ a festival grand enough to rival Beltane.”

Ciaran scoffed but didn’t hide his satisfaction. “It does well to remind the people that we’re stronger together. Let them feast, fight, and be merry.”

And fight they did. A group of men had gathered near the center of the courtyard, a thick rope stretched between them as a makeshift boundary was drawn in the dirt.

“Tug o’ war?” Doughall asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement. “How many of ye does it take to win against me?”

Freya elbowed him, laughing. “Dinnae be so sure, husband. I reckon I could best ye.”

“Then prove it to me, wife.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd as the teams formed—MacAitken men on one side, MacNialls and their allies on the other. Laura cheered from the sidelines, Fraser balanced on her hip once more, as the men widened their stances and tightened their grips.

The signal was given, and the match began.

Feet dug into the earth, muscles strained, and roars of determination echoed through the grounds.

Moira simply stood next to Laura and shook her head, her arms crossed. “Ye’d think they were fightin’ for their very lives.”

“Men need their games, Maither.”

With one final heave, the MacAitkens won, but not without consequences. The MacNialls let go of the rope at the last second, sending the men tumbling into the dirt.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Doughall barked out a laugh, and within seconds, it devolved into a full-out brawl.

Ciaran wiped the mud from his bare chest, looking utterly unimpressed as Adam tackled Neil to the ground.

“Aye, let them fight it out,” he muttered, holding his arms out for Fraser. “I need a drink.”

Before they could walk off, Mrs. Morrigan appeared, falling into step with them. Her frail form moved steadily through the chaos before stopping in front of them, her eyes twinkling as she took in the scene.

“It’s good to see a life built in love,” she said, her gaze meeting Laura’s before shifting to Ciaran. “Rather than in spite.”

Ciaran frowned, ever wary of her cryptic words, but Laura merely smiled. “Ye mean us ?”

“Aye, lass. I always mean ye ,” Mrs. Morrigan said, before turning on her heel and disappearing into the crowd.

Ciaran had barely finished his ale when Ersie found them, her piercing gaze locking onto his before flicking to Laura.

“Come,” she said, nodding toward a quieter corner of the courtyard. “We need to talk.”

Laura followed, cradling Fraser against her chest, while Ciaran strode beside her. They stopped near a stone bench within the gates of the keep.

Ersie extended her arms. “May I?”

Ciaran eyed her suspiciously.

Why must she hold the bairn when she’s about to share bad news?

Laura passed Fraser without hesitation into Ersie’s waiting arms. The warrior held him with surprising ease, her expression softening as he gurgled happily, grabbing at her braids.

“He’s a strong one,” she murmured. “Takes after his maither, nay doubt.”

Ciaran crossed his arms. “What is it ye wished to speak to us about, Sister?”

Ersie met his gaze, all traces of her usual sharp wit gone. “I wish to stay.”

Laura blinked, surprised. “Ye mean here ? With us ?”

“Aye,” Ersie confirmed. “Doughall has his own place now, his own family. But me place… me place is here.”

Ciaran studied her. “What would ye wish to do here? Marry?”

“Ciaran,” Laura warned.

Ersie straightened. “I can be yer man-at-arms,” she said firmly. “Yer second-in-command.”

Her brother’s eyebrows rose, but he did not immediately refuse her. He looked at Laura, who shrugged. “She saved Fraser’s life. If I were to trust anyone with the role, a role that protects the people I love, it would be her.”

“Aye,” he said. “And what does Doughall think about this?”

“He thinks that I should do what makes me happy, which is why he didnae fight me on it.”

Ciaran studied her closely before nodding. “And what would be yer first order of business?”

Ersie lifted her chin, clearly prepared for that question. “I’d see to reorganizin’ the rotations on night patrol. I’ve noticed the same men are stationed on the same routes too often. Predictability is a weakness. If I were an enemy plannin’ an attack, I’d ken their schedules and use it against them.”

Ciaran’s eyebrows rose in approval. “So, ye’ve thought about this?”

“Aye,” she said firmly. “I wouldnae have asked for this if I wasnae prepared to do the work.”

Ciaran sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “It’s a dangerous role, Sister.”

“Ye’re nae the first laird I’ve had the pleasure of protectin’. Besides, when has that ever stopped me?” Ersie challenged, shifting Fraser to one hip. “Ye ken I’m more skilled than over half of yer men. Let me fight for ye, for this keep, for our clan.”

Laura watched Ciaran closely and saw the way his jaw ticked as he considered.

Finally, he nodded once. “Alright then. If this is what ye wish, ye have me blessing.”

Ersie grinned, handing Fraser back to Laura before clapping Ciaran on the shoulder. “Ye’ll nae regret it, Ciaran.”

They watched her disappear into the crowd before they turned to rejoin the festivities. Ciaran reached for Laura’s hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

Together, they walked back into the celebrations, surrounded by their people, in a life they had only just started to build together, not in spite, but in love.

The End?