Epilogue

Two days later

Fiona giggled and rolled on top of her hunky Highlander. They’d arrived at Dungarbh late last night and stumbled straight up to his room without disturbing the rest of the family. They’d been so exhausted, they’d conked out as soon as they hit the mattress. It was a tight squeeze on his single bed, which meant she had to sleep draped all over him. Darn.

So yeah, she was eager to wake up her man in the best way possible.

She adjusted herself on top of him, giving a good little roll, and brushed her hands up his bare, muscular chest. Late morning light streamed in from his lone, slit of a window. He turned his head toward her, a cheek marked with a sheet-wrinkle, and blinked his eyes awake. So cute.

A huge-ass grin transformed his face, and his eyes shown with delight. She caught her breath—his playful, curly hair matched what shown from his face.

Against her sex, another part of him began to wake up and say good morning.

He gripped her waist and stroked his warm, strong hands up to the globes of her breasts pointing a hey-how-are-ya at him. Shivers followed in the wake of his questing hands.

“Good morning, my lovely nighean,” he rumbled.

She smiled, bit her lip, and brushed her hands up his chest, flicking his nipples. “Morning, my—”

The door behind her slammed open, banging hard against the stone wall.

Fiona dived for the covers and plastered herself to Duncan’s side just as her sister’s voice rang out in English, “My eyes. I can’t unsee that!”

Fiona yanked the sheet up to her chin, indignation and mortification flushing her skin hot. Iain strolled in behind Traci and spun away with his forearm across his eyes.

“What the hell?” Fiona demanded when she could find her voice. It had been buried in all that indignation and mortification.

Traci planted her hands on her hips. “What are you two doing in bed together?”

Fiona peeked over the huge shield of Duncan’s body. “What the hell are you doing barging into a room without knocking?”

“I thought he’d be alone.”

“And that makes it better?”

Duncan had latched his hands behind his head, his eyes going back and forth as if he were watching a tennis match.

Traci cocked her hip. “You still didn’t answer why you’re in here, Fiona.”

Fiona cleared her throat and ran a finger in a circle on Duncan’s chest. “So I…um…have some news.”

Traci gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth. “You’re pregnant.”

Fiona swatted the bed. “No! Again, what the hell?” She wasn’t a coffee drinker, but she sure was wishing for some now. It was too early in the morning for this shit.

Traci just raised her eyebrows, waiting.

“We’re married.” Fiona’s heart got all gooey just being able to say that. She’d never told Traci of their secret handfast at the inn.

“Finally,” Iain said over his shoulder.

“What do you mean, finally?” This from Duncan, his voice still groggy-rough.

“I was hoping my solution to appease the MacLeods and give a delay to Fiona would have an additional purpose. I needed to give ye a kick in your arse.”

Fiona peeked at Duncan, but he just gave a slow grin. “It worked.”

Fiona glared at her sister. “Now that we’re done with Twenty Questions—why are you in here?”

“That’s another question,” Traci said, a smirk on her too-awake face.

It was Fiona’s turn to stare until she caved.

“Oh, all right,” Traci huffed. “We have some news too. But it’s…it’s for Duncan.” She shuffled in place and stole a glance at Iain and then Duncan.

“Whatever news you’re wanting to share can be said in front of my wife.”

My wife. She liked the sound of that. Again—gooey heart.

“Is she decent?” Iain asked.

“She’s covered,” Traci answered.

Iain swung around and seemed to be trying to impart a message to Duncan via telepathy or something. “It’s concerning Margery. We have a letter from her.”

To Traci’s and Iain’s evident surprise, but not to hers, Duncan said, “ ’Tis fine. She knows all.”

“All?” Iain asked.

“Aye.”

Iain stepped farther into the room. He glanced at Fiona, then regarded Duncan. “Well then, you’ll both be glad of these tidings. She wrote us a long letter. To say I’m shocked that my sister wasn’t as she seemed is an understatement. I had no idea she was even pregnant at the time of her marriage to Torquil. But she confessed how she trapped you to take the blame for her babe. I'd heard the rumors, aye, but I couldn't believe it to be true, and besides, Elspeth didn't look like you. She didn’t identify the real father, but I’m imagining it wasn’t someone her husband would have approved of for her to devise another father.”

Duncan merely nodded, but Fiona could tell the news relaxed him a fraction. With his code of honor, it had to gall him to be seen as a father of a babe he hadn’t claimed and to keep the machinations of Iain’s sister from his best friend. Sooner or later, those rumors would have grown too weighty to ignore, and Margery was saving him from that.

Traci looked at Duncan with sympathy. “I’m sorry she put you through that.” Then she said to Fiona, “So…um…” She darted her gaze to Duncan and back. “The legend…? Did…?”

Fiona would probably appreciate her trying to be circumspect if she wasn’t, you know, frustrated that she was in their friggin’ room. “Yes. It all played out, and I was the Fiona.” She felt satisfaction in telling her sister, but she didn’t feel a surge of validation, because she wasn’t looking to find it there anymore. Though it was fun to see her sister’s head jut forward, her eyes rounding. And then her mouth opening and closing. Ah, good times.

Which reminded her. “Iain, do you have a family historian?”

“We have a bard who composes songs of our deeds.”

“But do they write those down? Does anyone keep a physical record of all the births, marriages, and deaths in the clan, male and female?”

He shook his head.

“Then I’d love to be the clan’s official historian, recording in Gàidhlig and English.” This would be fun. And while she didn’t need this for validation either, she did want to be useful. “Now that we’ve got everything out of the way…”

“Not everything. We need to talk about arranging Mom and Dad’s visit, and—” Traci stopped, probably at Fiona’s death glare.

Fiona took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and said in English in a more forceful tone, “Can y’all please leave?”

“Oh,” Traci piped. “Um, yeah. We’ll…leave you to…it. Don’t mind us. It’s like we were never here.”

Fiona opened her eyes to see them both tiptoeing out, as if that’d rewind things. She rolled her eyes.

“Now,” Duncan rumbled, rolling on top of her, and propping himself up on his elbow. “Where were we?” He dropped a quick kiss on her chin.

She smiled her whole heart up into his face. And wiggled her hips.

“Och, aye. That’s right.” He placed another quick kiss, this time on her nose. He brought his head up, eyes and face smiling, his whole wonderful, sweet self shining completely for her to see and witness. His eyes shifted, growing serious but tender. “I love you, nighean.”

Her heart squeezed and then expanded, as if it wanted to hug him tight. “I love you too.”

Then Duncan showed her exactly where they were. And where they’d be. Together. Always. In the present and looking to the future. Because the past was behind them. For them both.

Thank you for reading Duncan and Fiona's story and I hope you enjoyed their journey to love as much as I did writing it! For more time travel romance adventures, be sure to to learn about the next one!