One Year Later

 

Dear sister mine,

Your last letter filled me with so much joy. It’s superb to hear how well you took up married life. I cannot believe your stable master put Debranua and Fiadhaich in the same stockyard before your wedding. And now you have a foal running around as elegant as you describe.

Your happiness shines all through your words. And your happiness means mine as well in more ways than one, as you may guess.

Stanley and I are expecting. Can you imagine it to happen so fast? Alright, so we have been, you know, tempting destiny and other parts of our persons long before the bans were put. Oh, Catriona, I love him so dearly! We did not even try to resist. To become the Countess of Arleigh proved to be a pale boon compared with our married bliss. He’s the utmost gentleman, everything I ever dreamed of in a husband. And I have only you to thank. Meeting and marrying your Highlander savage—sorry for that—gave us the chance to live out our love. I’m sure you don’t mind it, do you? As for me, I don’t mind you choosing that man in the least! Much on the contrary, I must confess.

I hope you consider a visit to us soon. I did not forget you do not care for town, but I will so much enjoy having you here. Do it for me, please. I will use my condition as an excuse not to travel to the wilds of the country where you made your home. Even if you miss me so much as you state. And I believe you when you say so.

Send news soon!

Your beloved sister

Anna

 

Catriona folded the paper with a wistful smile. In the drawing room, the watery late afternoon sun tinted the carpet with smooth colour. Anna and Tremaine tied the knot six months ago, to her father’s exasperation and her sister’s utter elation. They were no doubt the perfect match, fond of London and its dubious entertainments. But if that was what Anna wanted, Catriona would respect her wishes.

Debranua foaled a few months ago, Craig having confessed he had facilitated it even while Catriona and Fingal were working with the stallion. Embarrassed, he admitted that he thought both would produce a magnificent breed. He was right. They named the little one Samhradh, summer, to remember when she and her husband met.

A movement in the room told her the nanny brought Ava to her mother. The three-month old baby displayed a tuft of dark hair, but the eyes were still undefined, dark brown probably. Catriona took the girl and gave a break to the nanny. Anna had been so effusive when she came to know of her niece. Aunt and niece had yet to meet.

But her father saw his granddaughter.

After Anna’s wedding, he sat with Drostan and accepted he could do nothing about how his daughters ignored his designs. So, the alliance between the McKendrick and the McTavish had been validated much to everybody’s satisfaction and Catriona’s relief. A rift between the clans served nobody, though Fingal demanded Angus apologise to his elder daughter for his behaviour when they last met. At Marie’s coaxing, the McTavish acquiesced.

The presence of Ava made it all easier, however. Catriona’s parents melted at the sight of the little girl. Fortunately, they did not live nearby, or they would spoil her rot.

Mother and child approached the window to watch the butterflies as Catriona rained kisses on the girl’s rosy petal cheeks.

Two fierce arms enfolded them, accompanied by the scent of horse and man. The love of her life. Her head rested on his broad shoulder with a contentment that spread itself warm and soothing inside her.

“How’s this little hoyden doing?” The throaty voice asked as a masculine finger feathered his daughter’s chin. The big hand caressing their girl brought tears to her eyes. How could such a giant be so heart-melting towards the baby? The sight of them together always filled Catriona with overflowing emotions.

A tender smile reflected on the glass pane back at Fingal. “Drowsy. She’s just awoken.”

“Five minutes for the hurricane to start,” he teased while his head bent for him to brush her temple with his mouth.

She laughed. “You impossible man.”

His arms tightened around them. “Since I met you I’ve dreamed we’d make a baby daughter just like you.”

“You don’t say.” Her head burrowed in his tartan.

“So I won’t have peace until I’m very old,” he jested with a side smile moving on her smooth skin.

“If next time it’s a boy, I’ll have my revenge.”

“We’d better hurry up and get down to it, then.”

“How focused, Mr McKendrick,” she taunted, knowing he always ‘chastised’ her when she called him that.

“Hm,” he growled. “Wait until tonight, and you’ll see who is this Mr McKendrick.”

“I can hardly wait,” she confessed.

His knuckle lifted her chin to him. “I love you, Catriona.”

“I love you, Fingal.” And his sculpted lips touched hers before Ava demanded her share of attention.

 

 

The End

 

 

 

 

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