Page 120 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
“Sweet saints above,” he breathed. “The drought’s broken. There will be crops in the fields again.”
“It’s a blessing, Kian.”
He looked down at her, cupping her damp cheek, his thumb brushing her tears.
“Aye,” he murmured, “and ye’re the greatest blessing of them all.”
He rested his forehead on hers, his breathing steady and sure.
“I love ye, Abigail. With every beat of me heart.”
Tears pricked her eyes again, and she smiled up at him, the rain pattering against the window like a lullaby.
“And I love ye, me wild Highland laird.” Her voice trembled, but her hands were steady as they cupped his face. “Always, Kian. Come what may.”
EPILOGUE
FOUR YEARS LATER
“Ye’re chasin’ a wild one today, Me Laird,” Abigail called out, amusement lacing her voice as she watched Kian chase their daughter, Heather.
The soft breeze rustled the tall grass and scattered the scent of wildflowers across the meadow.
Abigail sat on a stone bench near the edge of the garden, her needle moving steadily through pale blue cloth. Birds chirped in the trees overhead, and sheep grazed beyond the low fence, their soft bleats blending with the hum of the spring morning.
Heather squealed with delight, her curls bouncing as she darted between daffodils and foxgloves.
Kian caught her with ease, throwing her up into the air and spinning her around, her giggles ringing like bells.
Abigail’s heart swelled as she paused her stitching and watched them.
Heather threw her arms in the air triumphantly as Kian lowered her onto his shoulders. “Ma, I’m a giant now!” she squealed.
Kian turned slightly to glance at Abigail, his smile wide and boyish.
He held Heather steady with one hand and used the other to point to the distance. “See that rise just beyond the glen? That’s where I saved yer maither from the cold before we got married.”
Heather gasped in delight, then leaned down and whispered something into his ear.
Kian laughed and turned toward Abigail. “She says she’s goin’ to do the same when she’s a grown lady.”
Abigail stood up and crossed the small patch of grass toward them, her skirts brushing the blooms. She reached for Kian’s hand and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then to Heather’s small foot.
“Aye, well, she’ll nae do it because she will have far more sense than I ever had,” she said fondly.
Kian bent and kissed her lips, a quiet press filled with love and warmth.
They stood for a moment like that, a family wrapped in morning light and birdsong, the years unfolding gently behind them.
Heather leaned over and pressed her cheek to her father’s head. “Da, I love it here,” she murmured.
Kian’s throat worked as he met Abigail’s eyes. “So do I, lass,” he said thickly. “It’s more than I ever dared ask for.”
Abigail looked over the fields. They were green and whole, with no sign of the dry, cracked earth they had once feared. The streams flowed steadily, the soil was rich with promise, and the people no longer spoke of hunger.
Abigail took Kian’s hand again and leaned her head against his chest. “It’s a good life, Kian.”
“Aye,” he said, closing his eye. “It’s the only life I’ve ever wanted, with both of ye in it.”
