Page 74 of Abducted By the Highlander
His big body shook with silent laughter that ended with a soul-deep sigh. “Lady Roisin of Sgur Castle, keeper of the mystical Deep Knowing from yer fierce Pict queen ancestor, I love ye more than life itself. Will ye honor me with yer hand and make me the luckiest man in Christendom by consenting to be my bride?”
Sometimes, on Eigg, especially after Freyja had wed Alasdair, she had imagined how it might be, should Hugh ever propose to her. His simple, heartfelt words surpassed anything her mind had conjured, and she tenderly cradled his beloved face.
There were so many things she wanted to say to him. And she had all the time in the world to say them. But for now, only one thing needed to be said. “I will.”
Epilogue
The bloodline of the Isle must prevail beyondquietus.
Ten Years Later, Winter 1577, Balfour Castle
’Twas the perfectwinter afternoon, bright and fresh with the crisp promise of snow in the air, and Roisin breathed in deeply as she and her sisters strolled in the courtyard while the bairns screamed in delight and the dogs barked with excitement as they chased each other.
She smiled as she watched her six-year-old son, Symon, haul his two-year-old sister Innis to her feet before, hand in hand, they raced after their cousins. As if wanting to join in, her babe kicked strongly, and she stroked her swollen belly.
Not long now, my wee yin.
Just another two months until she and Hugh welcomed their longed-for third bairn. Although they spent most of the year at their manor, they often visited Balfour Castle to see Hugh’s father, and each of their bairns had been born in his childhood home. And, as much as she loved the home they’d made together in the manor, she was always happy at Balfour, not least because the castle was closer to both Isolde and Freyja.
“Are ye all right?” Freyja, always the healer, sounded concerned. “Do ye wish to return inside and sit with Amma?”
“I’m fine,” she assured her sister. Amma had arrived at Balfour a week ago for her usual winter stay with them when they all gatheredtogether to welcome the new year, and she and Hugh’s father, who was now quite frail, enjoyed each other’s company.
“Ye’re doing better than me then.” Isolde pressed her hand to the small of her back and sighed. “This rascal is giving me more grief than all of my first three put together. Thank God I told William from the start that four bairns was my limit.”
“Maybeyeshould go inside, then.” Freyja gave her an anxious glance, and Isolde laughed.
“’Tis nothing, Frey. Without fail, this babe wakes when I want to sleep so I’m constantly exhausted, and I never had that with any of the others. But ’tis scarcely a cause for alarm. Even if I do have another three months of it.”
“I think I should examine ye again, just to make sure all is well.”
Isolde sighed. “I’m quite certain I am not expecting twins.”
“Aye, well, that notion never crossed my mind either when I was pregnant, did it?” Freyja looked across the courtyard, where her boisterous twins, Ranulph and Archie, were goading each other to climb up the wall of the castle. “Oh, great Eir preserve us.”
Freyja marched across the court to her offspring, and Isolde took Roisin’s arm. “Do ye think Frey is quite well? She’s been quite agitated ever since she arrived a couple of days ago.”
Roisin considered her sister, as she wagged her finger at her sons and gesticulated at the castle wall. “Ye do not suppose she might be with child?”
Isolde sniffed. “Are ye brave enough to ask her?”
“I am not,” Roisin confirmed. After the shock of the twins’ birth eight years ago, Freyja had been adamant her family was complete. “Doubtless she’ll tell us if she is.”
Little Helga collided into Isolde’s legs, and with an indulgent smile, she scooped her three-year-old daughter into her arms. “What is it, my wee bairn?”
“Ingrid won’t let me play.” Indignation quivered through her voiceas she sent a tear-filled look at her seven-year-old sister. “She says I’m a babe.”
Roisin retied her niece’s hood and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Why don’t ye play with Innis, then?”
Helga gave her a solemn look. “Innis is a wee babe, Auntie.”
Roisin and Isolde exchanged glances over Helga’s head, both trying not to laugh, before Isolde placed Helga back on the ground. “Supper won’t be long. Go tell Ingrid to behave herself and as for ye, be kind to wee Innis.”
Helga gave a loud, long-suffering sigh before she trotted off and Freyja returned. “Those lads have no sense of danger. I swear to God they must lay awake at night thinking up new ways to terrify me. Why can’t they be more like yer Will, Izzie?”
Isolde scoffed. “Will has his moments, let me tell ye.” She sent an affectionate glance at her eldest, where he was on the ground with the dogs sprawled on top of him and a bittersweet pang squeezed Roisin’s heart. Sweet Ecne, like his littermates, had lived to a great age but even now, six years after he had joined his brothers, she still missed him. Although she had to admit she dearly loved the hound littermates she and her sisters had been given four years ago by their paternal grandfather’s greatest friend and steward, Miles. Not least because the pups were descendants of their beloved Afi’s favorite dog, Ban.
“’Tis a pity Laoise could not join us this year.” Freyja sighed, before she sent a fond smile in the direction of her wayward sons. “Her lasses always bring out the best in Ranulph and Archie.”
