Mary stood with her back to the hearth, enjoying the warmth of the yule log burning there, and observed the great hall with satisfaction. Despite a heavy snowfall making travel difficult—even dangerous—for two pregnant women, Mary’s sisters, their husbands, and Annie’s first bairn had made it safely to Rose three days ago. The scent of pine boughs filled the air. Ropes of holly with bright red berries bound together with red ribbons draped the windows. Mistletoe hung in each doorway, making perfect spots for lovers to pause and kiss, to revel in the magic of the Druid’s herb. Members of the clan came and went on their own errands, some remaining at the long trestle tables, cups of ale or cider in hand, awaiting the evening meal and the celebration to follow.

The blaze at her back couldn’t match the warmth filling her heart at seeing her sisters with husbands and children of their own. And seeing her own husband sharing an ale with them and listening to the tale of their trip to Rose.

It meant so much to have her loved ones with her for their first Yuletide without their father.

“I wish Da could see us,” Mary murmured to her sisters, but loudly enough for their men to hear. “He did love us. He told me so before Cameron and I left for Sutherland.”

“He was a sly man, for all of that,” Iain said and grinned at Annie. She grinned back, then set her cup down to chase their son, who was headed for the door out to the bailey at a fast crawl. “Ewan, come back here, ye we scamp,” she called. “’Tis too cold for ye to go out there.” One of the serving lasses helped her round up the lad, and Annie marched back to the hearth with the shrieking babe on her hip to join the rest of the family.

Catherine handed him his favorite toy horse and he immediately put it to his mouth, gumming its back.

“He’s developed a fascination with horses,” Annie said, “and he saw where the Rose stables are. If he’s no’ riding before he walks, I’ll be surprised.”

“We did,” Mary reminded her. “Da made certain of that, though seeing us riding frightened Maman. He indulged us shamefully when we were wee.”

“One could wish our father had been a wee less difficult once we grew up,” Catherine complained and raised her glass to her husband, Kenneth. “We missed out on so many years together,” she added softly, a glint of tears in her eyes.

“Now, lass,” Kenneth said, “we’ve decided none of that matters. Only the years to come. Remember?” He leaned over to kiss her cheek, laying one hand possessively on her growing belly. “And our child, come spring.”

“Aye, I do.” She laid her hand over his and gave him a shy smile.

“He told me he made it difficult for us to wed because he couldna bear to lose us,” Mary said, her voice dropping as sadness welled in her chest. “He said it was like losing Maman all over again, each time.” She wanted her sisters to get a glimpse of him he’d given only to her.

Annie and Catherine traded glances, then turned back to Mary and nodded. “He meant well.”

Mary didn’t think they believed her, but she refused to let that deter her. She would tell them stories about their father until they understood him better. She owed them that—and him.

Cameron cleared his throat, his gaze on his wife. “And whether he meant to or nay, yer father gave his life to protect Mary’s inheritance. Iain is right. He was a sly man. He had Lady Grant’s and Seona’s measure from the beginning.” He raised his cup, as if making a toast. “All is well,” he insisted. “Ye are all together. No matter that ye have wed, ye will always be Mary Elizabeth, Mary Anne and Mary Catherine Rose.”

Mary loved that Cameron was the one to make then see what they had, not what they’d lost.

After they chorused, “Aye, aye!” and took a sip, Cameron continued. “Clan Rose remains in Rose hands, and it has strong alliances to protect it, including its closest ally, clan Brodie.”

“For as long as ye men keep Rose and Brodie—and we three Marys—safe,” Catherine agreed.

“Here’s to Da and all of us!” Annie cried as she raised her cup.

“Here’s to Da,” Mary said, raising hers and taking another sip. “He made us fight for what we wanted, so we were sure to get only the very best.”

Her sisters turned their smiles on their husbands as Cameron pulled her into his embrace. He kissed her, his lips soft and warm, then his breath warmed her cheek and he murmured in her ear, “Ye, Mary, my love, are the very best part of me.”

Joy and contentment filled her. “I’m so grateful for ye,” she told him, then laid her head on his shoulder and breathed in the scents of ale, wine, roasting meat, and woodsmoke, along with Cameron’s own.

Soon, the clan crowded in, and the hall rang with conversation and laughter. Once everyone was seated, servants carried out huge platters laden with the winter feast. From her place in what had been her father’s seat at the high table, with her loved ones all around her, Mary lifted her voice to be heard throughout the hall and wished, “A happy Yule to us all!”