Page 72 of The Love Leap

Cal and I weave through our victorious crowd, offering comforting words here and sharing a laugh there. My whole body is ready to burst with pride.

“We did it,” I say loud enough for everyone to hear me over their own jubilation. “We were brave together, and look at us now!”

Their faces light up with relief as they clap andcheer in response. An emotional lump forms in my throat as I see these people who risked it all to stand with us.

“I cannae thank ye all enough,” Cal adds. “Yer courage, yer sacrifices... yer unwavering commitment means more than ye’ll ever know.”

Alistair strides forward, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Amelia, Callum, my family and friends,” he booms, his voice echoing across the tavern.

“Today marks a remarkable achievement. We’ve defended our rightful land and done it together.” He pauses for a breath, letting the weight of his words settle over us all. “But let’s not ignore the challenges loomin’ on the horizon. This battle may be won, but there will be more. The world is shifting under our feet; we must shift with it.”

I swallow hard as a shiver of realization runs down my spine. Nearly four centuries of change and evolution are waiting in the wings for these people.

Well, at least we saved the farm. My gaze flits to Cal. He catches my eye and flashes that dimpled grin that always makes me swoon.

“And let’s remember the legacy we’re crafting,” Alistair continues. “The MacDowells have always embodied strength, resilience, honor. Now that this land is ours again, we’ve got an opportunity to build something extraordinary.”

He lifts his glass high above his head, hope anddetermination sparkling in his eyes like twin stars in the twilight sky. “To the future,” he says. The room vibrates with the timbre of his voice, a deep bass that bounces off the stone walls. It’s as though each word he lets loose has been marinated in centuries-old Scotch whisky—rich, full-bodied, and steeped in tradition.

“To the MacDowells and all those who stand beside us.”

“To the future,” we echo back in unison.

Fi uncorks three dusty bottles of aged whisky at this cue, setting off a riotous celebration throughout the tavern.

No sooner than the flickering candlelight begins its waltz across our elongated wooden table, we're all scurrying to get it set. Moments later, it's heaving under the weight of robust stews and homemade loaves of bread that are so tantalizing I'm practically salivating like a Pavlovian dog at dinner time. Fi and Elspeth had the foresight to stash the stews and bread in the cellar, so the meal just needed a quick warm-up to be ready. Good news for my stomach. If it growls any louder, I might have to pounce on the table.

The candles have burneddown to their halfway point. Their thick, earthy scent of animal fat and ahint of lavender intertwine with the lingering aroma of peat smoke, ale, and roasting meats.

Kilted men stomp their feet to the beat of the tavern’s makeshift band—Cobbler MacTavish on bagpipes (who knew?), Fergus on the fiddle, and Alistair on his drum. The women twirl in vibrant tartan dresses, their laughter echoing off the old stone walls.

Across the table, I catch Cal’s joyful gaze. We can’t be sure we’ve set everything back to how it was in present-day Aven Valley. But one fact shines brighter than any candle here tonight: the MacDowells are ready for whatever comes next.

The tavern is practically vibratingwith the energy of our late-night celebration. Fi darts through the crowd, whisky bottles in hand, topping off glasses as she goes. The euphoria is contagious, and it’s impossible not to smile.

Cal slips next to me, his hand settling on my lower back. “Ever experienced anything like this before, Mills?”

His touch sends a comforting warmth through me, and I lean into him.

“Time travel? Epic battles? A party that feels like it’s been ripped from the pages of a history book?” Iflash him a teasing wink. “Nah. Just an average day for a novelist.”

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Aye, but ye’ve navigated it all with such grace and bravery. I’m honored to be by your side.”

Heat creeps up my cheeks at his words. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you, Cal. Or without any of them.” I gesture around the room at our friends and allies, who are all wearing wide—and slightly drunken—smiles.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The band launchesinto a spirited number and the crowd springs to life, bodies swaying with unrestrained delight. Fi’s grin is infectious as she drags me into the sea of dancers.

“Let’s show them how it’s done, Mills!” She shouts over the music, spinning me around so fast my feet barely touch the ground.

We’re a flurry of motion, her skirt and my hair flying in sync with our laughter. The air in the tavern pulses with energy and unfiltered joy.

As Fergus shifts gears to a slower, sweeter tune, Fi winks at me before twirling off to find another dance partner. A tap on my shoulder halts me in my tracks, and I spin around to find Cal standing there, his eyes twinkling like stars.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” He asks, offering a mockbow that makes me laugh.

“You may indeed, good sir,” I reply, playing along.

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