EPILOGUE
The wind ruffled her skirt as she walked along the fortress wall. This place, high over the forest, had always been one of Arabella's favorite places to walk. She looked out over the dark green treetops and breathed the scent of mist, and rain, and damp. It was invigorating.
Especially, she thought with a smile, since she'd be spending more time indoors.
She walked slowly along the wall.
As she neared the sentry post, she stopped. Looked at the man whose posture was straight as a halberd, the green kilt wrapping his long, strong legs, shirt close over his rippling muscles.
“Richard?”
He turned and looked at her. That level gaze, so like a hawk's, lit with joy.
“My dearest,” he said, and moved to join her. She came and stood beside him and together they looked out over the silent forest.
“You wanted to tell me something?” Richard asked as they stood there, his arm round her, her hand braced before her on the thick stone of the wall. Small lichens and moss grew there, intricate and delicate over the firm endurance of the stone.
Strange, Arabella thought, musingly, that I notice such little details, such things about this mighty fortress. I must be thinking about its future very much.
“I wanted to see you,” she said, moving so that she was sheltered in the warmth of his arms.
“That's nice,” Richard whispered, and kissed her hair.
They stood together. Below them, the wind ruffled the pine trees. Arabella shivered, though it was not cold. It was a reminder that winter was almost upon them.
“Shall we go in?” he asked, as if reading her thoughts. “It's not very warm.”
“Yes,” she agreed softly. “Let's go in.”
They headed slowly along the wall together and back through the door beside the turret, heading indoors.
“That's better,” Arabella murmured, as they settled in the solar together. Douglas was out hunting, and Francine was sewing upstairs with her maids. They were alone in there together.
“It is,” Richard whispered, and kissed her hair. “I'm glad to be in here with you, my dearest.”
“And I with you, my sweetest.”
As she lay against his chest, feeling drowsy in the warmth, she stirred.
“Richard?”
“Yes?” he asked. His eyes glowed and he bent to kiss her lips. She closed her eyes and let her lips part under his. “What is it?” he asked, moving back to look down at her again.
“I have some news,” she said softly.
“Oh?” he frowned. “And what news is that, my dearest?”
“I...” she paused, blushing, knowing she couldn't keep such wondrous news to herself, but not sure how to share it. “Richard, I am carrying a babe.”
He stared at her. His eyes were huge. Utter astonishment crossed his face, and then a huge grin moved across it slowly, starting with a glow of wonder in his eyes.
“You are?” he said. “Arabella! Oh! My dearest! Such news!”
He kissed her everywhere – first lips, then nose, then eyes, and then her hair, her neck, her upper arm...
As she started to giggle, his kisses tickling her, he started to laugh, too.
“Oh, Arabella,” he said. “I am so, so happy! I couldn't be happier if I tried.”
She smiled up at him fondly. “You silly dear,” she said. “I, too, am happy. We are so blessed.”
“We are.”
Later, they discussed names. The baby would be Mirelle, after her mother, if she was a girl. If he was a boy, they decided on Francis.
“A name used by Scots and English alike,” Arabella said firmly. “Our son will have many friends.”
“Indeed he shall,” Richard nodded. “His life started with so much love, I'm sure it will surround him always.”
“Yes,” Arabella nodded. “I'm sure it shall. With so much love, there are no barriers.”
“And those that are, dissolve.”
“Yes.”
They kissed.
Outside, the sun shone pale light through the windows of the solar, bathing them in sweet golden warmth. It gilded the furniture, glowed off the table, burned like gold off the silverware, sending shattered brightness through the room. It seemed, as they kissed, as truly as if and all edges and borders had dissolved, leaving only light.