Epilogue

 

 

 

Scottish Highlands

Fall, 1322

Six Months Later

 

Niall slowed as he approached Mairin, savoring the opportunity to drink in the sight of his wife.

She stood with her back partially turned, an arrow nocked in the bow she held and her gaze fixed on the target several dozen paces away. The weak autumn sun gilded her in yellow light, shining off her whisky-colored hair and making her look like one of the vibrant multicolored trees behind her.

She raised the bow and drew back on the arrow until the fletching tickled her cheek, took aim, and then let the arrow fly. A heartbeat later, it landed in the center of the target with a resounding thunk.

“A fine shot, wife.”

She turned, and he was gifted with the beautiful sight of her gently rounded belly. His chest swelled with so much love than he thought it might crack. But when he met her dove-gray gaze, her eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

“Dinnae tell me ye are going to attempt to take away my bow next,” she said, glaring at him.

He held up his hands in surrender and approached slowly, though a smile tugged at his lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

In truth, he imagined that she’d only be able to accurately shoot for another month or two before her stomach expanded so much that it made wielding the bow difficult.

When she’d revealed a few months back that she was pregnant, he’d insisted that she halt all sparring and sword work drills with the others. In return, she had demanded that she still be allowed to practice with her bow and throwing daggers.

Although Niall felt more protective than ever—for both her and their babe—he’d agreed, knowing that she wouldn’t be the woman he loved and cherished if he clipped her wings in an attempt to keep her safe.

Her pregnancy had caught them both by surprise—which it shouldn’t have, given how much they had partaken of the pleasures they found in each other’s arms. They hadn’t intended to start a family quite so soon, but once they’d learned that Mairin was with child, it had only deepened their love, bonding them even closer than before.

Except when it came to negotiating what Mairin ought and ought not do while she carried a babe.

“I’ve spoken with Lillian and Isolda,” she said, still eyeing him as he drew closer. “They promised to help look after the bairn so that I might return to training sooner. Ye cannae object to that when—”

“I don’t,” he interjected. “Training means a great deal to you. I would never try to stop you.”

That seemed to placate her somewhat, but when she continued to watch him, he couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not your enemy in this, love. We are partners, remember?”

Grudgingly, one corner of her mouth tipped up, and her eyes softened on him. “Aye, I ken it. I only felt I had to be armed against yer overprotective nature.”

“A nature which you’ll have to forgive—and get used to, for I imagine once the babe arrives, it will only get worse,” he said, drawing her into his embrace. He inhaled against her hair as she snuggled close, the babe in her belly tucked between them.

“That reminds me,” she said, drawing back enough to look up at him. Clouds now filled her eyes. “There is something I wish to discuss with ye.”

“What is it?”

She drew a fortifying breath. “If the bairn is a lad, I assume ye’ll have no objection to letting him train with us one day, just as John has begun to.”

“Aye,” he replied, waiting for her to go on.

“But if it is a lass…” Mairin paused for a moment. “I want her to train, too,” she said at last, her voice firm with her conviction. “I want her to learn how to fight, to protect herself, as I have. I ken ye’ll always be there to protect both me and our bairn, but I want her to be strong in her own right as well.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, smiling at the flicker of surprise, followed by warmth, that filled her eyes. He pursed his lips then as if considering something. “We’ll have to find a truly great warrior to train her, though.”

Mairin’s brows drew together in thought. “Ansel will no doubt offer to help. And Reid and Logan will want a hand in their niece’s training, I’m sure. Kirk could teach her the throwing daggers. Mayhap if Will ever returns to camp, he could—what are ye grinning about?” she demanded.

“It is only that I had someone else in mind.”

“Oh?”

“Aye,” he said, holding her gaze. “I was thinking of the lass’s mother.”

Her eyes widened, then filled with unguarded love before she pulled him down for a hard kiss.

“I love ye,” she whispered against his lips.

“I love you, too. I cannot wait to raise daughters as fierce and strong as you, Mairin. And sons as stubbornly overprotective as me.”

She laughed, the sound making his heart dance with joy.

Aye, their future would be filled with wee warrior lads and lasses—and more love than either of their hearts could contain.

 

The End

 

Want another historical romance story for FREE? and have “Aegir’s Daughter” (A Viking Lore Short Story) sent directly to you. Happy reading!