Page 57 of A Scot for Bethan
“I wanted to thank you for what you did for me the day Malcolm McDonald wanted to abduct me.”
“Aye, well, as to that, we didn’t do anything, and you ken it very well.” Murdo kicked an invisible stone out of the way, his dismay obvious.
“You did precisely what we agreed, acting as decoys, placing yourselves in danger, escorting the fake Bethan out of Nead an Diabhail and allowing Cameron and me to slip away unnoticed. There was no need to do more. Getting killed would have achieved nothing, Morag would still have been abducted in my stead. Besides, you saw what happened.” She reddened as indeed, they would have seen even more than her, who had left before the couple started rutting in earnest.
More kicking at stones that weren’t anywhere to be seen. “Aye, we did, though we tried not to look.”
“Have you any news of her?” Bethan had worried about the woman over the last few months. How had Malcolm McDonaldtaken the humiliation inflicted on him? Bold and deceitful as she had been, Morag had saved her and she would be loath to hear she had been harmed, or worse.
The two men exchanged an amused look that instantly set her mind at rest.
“She’s about to give the man a child,” Angus said. “From what we hear, he cannot get his hands off her. Don’t worry about the lass. She took a gamble, and it seems it paid off.”
Well. It would seem that both of them had won the man of their dreams in the end. Bethan relaxed.
“And speaking of which, my lady, I’m sure your husband already told you, but when Angus and I made it back to Nead an Diabhail after Morag’s abduction, we found out it had been McBain allowing Donald McDonald into Crois Dhubh that night.”
Bethan nodded. Indeed, Cameron had told her how his two loyal men had unearthed the traitor who had let the McDonalds in the night of the attack. He had also told her that Dougal’s friend had recognized her for the woman outside the tavern during their ride to Scotland and had convinced himself she was really a whore and deserved nothing more than to be treated like one, away from his clan. At the time she had congratulated herself on the fact that Cameron had not been the one dealing with McBain, as she was sure that the traitor’s punishment would have been exemplary, but when Murdo spoke, she saw that her relief might have been premature.
“The fool tried to tell everyone that you were a w—begging your pardon, a woman of ill repute. As if anyone in their right mind would believe such a thing. You’ll be pleased to know that I dealt with him,” he told her, crossing his arms over his chest. “He won’t pose any threat to you ever again.”
Since she wasn’t sure she would like to hear what he had done, she didn’t ask for any more details. That chapter of her life was closed.
That evening Bethan and Cameron stood at the top of the northern tower, the one overlooking the tranquilloch. In the moonlight, the surface was as smooth and shiny as a pool of quicksilver, the same shade as her husband’s eyes. All around the hills, as dark and fluffy as pillows, created the perfect…well, nest for it. It was a breathtaking view, and she couldn’t wait to come back in the morning to see it bathed in sunshine—or wrapped in mysterious fog, or drenched in rain, or blanketed with snow. It didn’t matter which. Now that she was mistress of the place, she would get to see it every season.
She sighed. “I remember thinking this summer that I could imagine myself living here. I’m so glad I now have the chance to.”
“I’m glad too, my love.”
“In the end, Nead an Diabhail didn’t live up to its fearsome name. I cannot imagine a more peaceful place, or one where I’d rather be.”
Cameron was holding her tight with her back against his chest as protection against the bitter wind, both his hands cradling her stomach in a familiar gesture. “Do you think we’ll have a laddie or a wee lassie?” he whispered in her ear.
Bethan placed her hands over his. She’d been wondering the same thing, though she didn’t mind either way. Besides, she intended to have many more children, so chances were, she would get both sons and daughters. “I think it might be a boy this time, but I don’t know why.”
“I think the same, and I don’t ken why either. Perhaps because, as I told you, my family seems to favor boys.” He landed a kiss on her hair. “Whichever way, it will be the loveliest bairn anyone has ever seen.”
Epilogue
“Little Callum is such a beautiful child.”
“He is.”
Bethan beamed at William, who looked slightly at a loss now that her son had woken up and held out her hands. Relieved, her friend handed her the baby back and sat down in the chair opposite her. He had been here for a week, having come for a visit as soon as he had heard about the birth of his godson. His presence had been all the more appreciated as Cameron had gone to visit the neighboring clan and she was missing him dreadfully.
“But then I suppose it is no wonder he should be a beauty, considering how good his father looks.”
“Thank you!” Bethan gave a tinkling laugh and placed a kiss on the baby’s soft hair. Indeed, her son was, as predicted, “the loveliest bairn anyone has ever seen”—and a boy. No matter, she meant to try until she gave her husband the daughters he was dreaming of. Not that either of them had complained at being handed a son when Callum had been born. “I know where I stand. Callum’s beauty is to be wholly attributed to Cameron. I will not?—”
“Who dares utter such nonsense?” a husky voice interrupted, coming from the doorway.
Her heart skipped a beat, as it did every time she set eyes on her husband. She could tell from his disheveled hair that he had rushed back to reach Nead an Diabhail—and his family—before dark.
“Cameron! You’re back!”
He walked in and placed a kiss on her temple before giving little Callum a caress on the cheek. The child was now a month old, his parents’ pride and joy.
“My son is indeed beautiful, but it has nothing to do with me. He’s the image of my wife, and any fool can see it.”
