Page 103 of The Winter Laird
“It wouldn’t hurt to keep my chamber ready, just in case,” he said with a wink. “Who knows what the Fates have in store for me next?”
Nioclas approached them and handed Reilly a piece of parchment. “If you come across Aidan and Cian, please give them this.”
Reilly nodded and tucked it into the leather pouch at his hip. “Trust me yet, MacWilliam?”
“Not even a little,” Nioclas replied. “But my friends call me Nick.”
Reilly inclined his head, then gave Bri one last squeeze. “Take care of yourself, and your family.”
“Always,” she said, unable to see his face through her tears. “Clan first.”
Nioclas wrapped his arms around her as Reilly and Colin mounted their horses and rode across the bailey, then over the drawbridge, disappearing into the forest.
“No regrets,” he murmured.
“No regrets,” she echoed.
“I do wonder,” he said as they walked up the castle steps, “if my clan believes I love you.”
Her breath hitched, and she looked up at him in surprise. “Um…”
“Clan MacWilliam!” he boomed across the bailey. Heads turned, children stopped playing, and the general daily chaos died down. He grasped Bri’s hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the inside of her wrist. Her lips parted in surprise—and something deeper.
Nioclas grinned wickedly at her, then turned back to their clan. “I am grateful for the peace we’ve earned this day. I’m grateful for your loyalty, which is the strongest in our beautiful Ireland. But most importantly, I’m grateful that Lady Brianagh chose me for her husband.” He smiled at her. “She found me through the mist, and my soul has found its mate. May you all be as lucky in love as I.”
He kissed her, and she melted into him. He pulled back and gave her another wink.
“Take me to bed already,” she said with a grin.
He swept her up to the cheers of their clansmen. “I live to serve,” he replied, his own grin mirroring hers, and carried her over the threshold.
Epilogue
Ireland, 1465
Brianagh MacWilliam whole-heartedly believed in happily-ever-afters. Hers was currently standing at the water’s edge, holding the hand of their two-year-old toddler.
The sounds of children’s laughter joined with the call of seagulls. Brianagh hugged her knees and watched as Claire and Nioclas cautiously approach the water’s edge. The day had been unseasonably warm for May in Ireland.
The water came crashing back to shore, and a moment later, the toddler stood in the sand, soaking wet, and let out a wail.
“Poor Claire,” Nioclas said with a laugh as he brought the crying toddler to Brianagh. She held out a piece of linen and Claire snuggled in. Nioclas dropped onto the blanket next to them.
“Sire, please have speech with Rian,” Austin, their five-year-old son, whined as he trudged over. “He told me the water beasties will get me in my sleep, butIsay I’ll slay them before they even cross the drawbridge!”
“Our peace and quiet lasted longer than I thought it would,” Brianagh said as Austin elbowed her out of the way to get closer to his father. Brianagh waved their eldest son over to deal with the latest round of teasing.
As he often did, Nioclas watched his son amble to his mother, a look of complete innocence etched on his face. He felt the familiar pang in his chest. He and his own brother had often used that same look as they attempted to deny whatever Erin claimed they’d done to her.
“Go on and slay the water beasties together,” she said, ushering them from the blanket. “We’ve only a few more minutes until we must leave. A storm is coming.” She pointed to the gathering clouds over the sea, and the boys ran off, friends again.
Nioclas watched them wistfully.
“I miss him too.”
Nioclas glanced down at his wife. Brianagh knew his thoughts better than he himself. Aidan had never returned from the mission Nioclas sent him on eight-and-a-half years prior. It still haunted him, but the pain of his brother’s loss lessened with each passing year.
“Aye,” Nioclas said, tousling Claire’s hair. She smiled beatifically at him, then popped her thumb in her mouth and closed her eyes.
