Page 47 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold (Kilted Kisses #4)

Morag felt something fundamental settle into place between them—not just desire or attraction, but deep, abiding love built on understanding and acceptance.

They'd both made mistakes, both let fear and pride get in the way of what they could have together.

But they'd also fought for each other when it mattered most.

"So what happens now?" she asked softly.

"Now we start over," Colin said, his voice gaining strength.

"Nae as strangers bound by contract, but as husband and wife who choose each other freely.

Nay more secrets, nay more walls between us.

Just the truth—that I love ye beyond reason, and I want tae spend the rest of me life proving that tae ye. "

"The rest of our lives," Morag corrected, reaching up to kiss him softly. "Because I'm nae going anywhere, Colin Armstrong. Ye're stuck with me now."

"Thank God fer that," Colin murmured against her lips, and Morag could hear the smile in his voice.

They held each other, surrounded by the sounds of celebration but focused only on each other.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new responsibilities, new tests of the bond they'd forged.

But tonight, they were simply Colin and Morag—two people who'd found their way through pride and fear and deception to something true and lasting.

"I love ye," Morag whispered again, marveling at how easily the words came now.

"And I love ye," Colin replied, his arms tightening around her. "Always and forever, mo chridhe . Always and forever. Now let's go back and show our people how a laird and his lady celebrate a battle victory"

"Cèol agus dannsa!" someone called out. "Music and dancing!"

The pipers struck up a lively reel, and Morag watched in delight as couples began forming sets for Highland country dancing. The women's skirts swirled in the torchlight as they moved through the intricate steps, while the men leaped and spun with athletic grace.

"Come," an elderly woman said, approaching Morag with a warm smile. "Lady Armstrong must dance the first dance with her hero husband."

"I dinnae ken the steps," Morag protested, but the woman was already leading her toward the cleared where the dancers waited.

"Och, it's in yer blood, lass. Every Highland woman kens how tae dance."

Colin appeared at her side, having been claimed by similar well-wishers. " It's tradition fer the laird and his wife tae open the dancing. "

The pipes began a slower, statelier tune—the traditional laird's dance that required the couple to move in a complex pattern while the entire community watched. Morag felt nervous, but Colin's strong hand was steady on her waist as he guided her through them.

"Left foot first," he murmured in her ear. "Follow me lead."

They moved together in the ancient pattern, turning and stepping in rhythm with the haunting melody.

Around them, the villagers clapped in time, their faces glowing with joy and pride.

Children sat cross-legged on the ground, watching with wide eyes as their laird and lady danced beneath the Highland stars.

When the dance ended, the crowd erupted in cheers and began their own reels and strathspeys. Morag found herself swept into dance after dance, passed from partner to partner as the celebration continued into the night.

"Slàinte mhath!" the men called out, raising their cups of ale in toast after toast. "Good health! Tae the Iron Laird! Tae Lady Armstrong! Tae victory!"

It was during a particularly energetic reel that Niven appeared at Colin's elbow, his weathered face serious despite the celebration around them.

"Colin," he said quietly, "I need a word."

Colin nodded and led Morag and Niven to a quieter corner of the square, though the music and laughter continued around them.

"What is it?" Colin asked.

Niven pulled several rolled parchments from his leather satchel. "Messages from the neighboring clans. They've all heard about Fraser's defeat, and..." He grinned. "They're all very eager tae reaffirm their loyalty tae Clan Armstrong."

Colin unrolled the first message, scanning it quickly. "The MacDougalls?"

"Pledge of friendship and mutual defense," Niven confirmed. "They're also offering tae discuss trade agreements."

"The Campbells?"

"Similar. Plus, they're interested in discussing marriage alliances fer their younger sons and daughters."

Morag watched Colin's face as he read message after message, each one bringing offers of alliance, trade, and cooperation that would have been unthinkable when Fraser's threat loomed over them.

"They smell opportunity," Colin said grimly. "Fraser's defeat leaves a power vacuum in this part of the Highlands."

"Aye," Niven agreed. "And everyone wants tae be on the winning side. But Colin..." His voice grew more serious. "These offers won't last forever. We need tae respond quickly while our victory is fresh in their minds."

Colin looked around at the celebration—his people dancing and singing, their faces bright with joy and relief. Then he looked at Morag, seeing the exhaustion she was trying to hide behind her smile.

"Tomorrow," he said firmly. "Tonight, we celebrate. Tomorrow, we'll deal with politics and alliances. Tonight, we're just a clan that's grateful tae be alive."