EPILOGUE
August 1747
Scotland was a different place than even the mothers had seen it in their long lives. Gone were the colorful tartans of a proud nation, gone was the melodic language from the ancestors of old, and gone was any hope at a liberated Scotland.
Yet even in such hard times, happiness could still be found.
The first bud of a hay seed breaking through the soil in a tender green shoot. A woman's loving touch, accepting of a horrible past and anticipating a long and happy future. The knowledge of one's family being safe and well fed.
Aye, there was much light to be had, even in dark times.
Ewan put his hand around Freya's slender waist, and together they stared out into the pride of their hard work.
“We've had such good fortune, Ewan.” She looked up at him, and a ribbon of bright red hair swept over her freckled nose. Her eyes shone like the sunlit sky, and Ewan could not help but think what a lucky man he was to have so beautiful a wife.
Indeed they’d had good fortune.
“We did it.” He grinned at her. “Yer hay field.”
She tilted her head in the stubborn way he couldn't help but love. “Our hay field.”
The trill of a young child's laughter rang out over the billowing golden sea of hay, the stalks bending with the wind in sweeping waves.
Ewan and Freya both turned to the sound to find Crosby hovered over young Thomas like the protective father he was. Marian watched the two with her hand shading the sun from her eyes and a tender smile on her face.
The mothers observed all from beneath the shade of a tree several feet away.
“Ye know,” Ewan's mother said. “The uneven ground is the best thing to strengthen a babe's ability to walk.”
“Indeed it is,” Freya's mother added.
Freya turned toward Ewan with her brows lifted. “They've agreed on something.”
“Aye,” continued Ewan's mother. “But he ought to be barefoot.”
“Ach, no.” Freya's mother shook her head, and the little curls at her temple fluttered with the action. “It's best to find some wee shoes for him.”
Little Thomas, whose feet were currently clad in shining black boots, squealed with delight and clapped his chubby hands. Ewan couldn't help but laugh with the lad.
It was not often Marian, Crosby, and Thomas came from England for a visit, but when they did, it was so very good to have them. It was through Crosby that Ewan had his freedom. He even suspected it was through Crosby's influence that he and Freya had been allowed to keep not only her plot of land to farm, but also Ewan’s land, which he currently let to a steady tenant.
Crosby scooped the boy up with his single arm and planted a kiss on Thomas' fat cheek. Marian ran up to them both and kissed first Thomas' other cheek and then the lips of her husband.
“I used to avoid coming here.” Freya turned from the couple and looked up at Ewan. “I felt like I failed at everything here, like it was all so out of my control. And Molly's - it was a haven of everything I'd done right.”
Ewan arched a brow. “Are ye saying ye miss Molly's?”
Freya chuckled. “I’m happier here. But even if I did, Alli wouldna ever give it back. She's established a lot in her time as madam.” There was an unmistakable note of pride in Freya's voice.
As well there should be. Alli had continued with the efforts Freya had put forth, as well as those efforts to educate ladies and take them in, offering more jobs than just those one expected in a brothel.
“And this has become my haven,” Freya said. “Of everything I've done right.”
She folded her hand in his and then wrapped her arms around his arm, pressing close to him.
He brushed a kiss on her smooth forehead. She wasn't the only one to feel that way. After a lifetime of believing his father had been a traitor, his mother finally sat him down and discussed it all. His da killed the officials who had planned to abduct several chiefs and hold them captive until they agreed to terms of trade that would render their lands destitute. Trade was everything to the Highlanders who existed on a currency of bartering.
His da had hung for his crimes and his name smeared for his efforts. His father knew of the scheme because his mother had heard it from one of the English wives. Had his father not done what he did, had he told people instead, it would have been Ewan's mother who died. He swung from the rope to save her, to save his people, and no one was ever the wiser.
Ewan had thought becoming a soldier of the Black Watch would wipe clean his reputation. Too late, he realized it had tarnished it instead.
But now...now he was an honest man with his own land let at a fair rent, with hay grown at the labor of his own back. Most importantly, his family was safe.
“This too has become my haven,” Ewan said softly. “And ye have become my joy.”
Light conversation flitted between the Crosbys and the mothers behind them. Freya nuzzled closer to him. “Ye're about to have even more joy in yer life.”
Ewan looked out at the endless stretch of golden hay and nodded. “Aye, I am.”
Freya laughed and nudged her shoulder into him. “I dinna mean the harvest.”
He glanced down at her. She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes glittering with barely restrained excitement. Suddenly a gasp sucked the smile from his face, right down into his heart.
She nodded and put the hand she clasped against her flat lower stomach. “Aye, I'm with child. Ewan, we're going to have a bairn.”
Ewan pulled his hand from Freya's so he could grab her waist and twirl her in the air. They laughed together and ended in a warm kiss.
After a lifetime of unnecessary repentance, after being a traitor and being freed, after losing so much and getting it all back again, Ewan had found love and through that, he had found happiness.
He was a lucky man indeed.