Page 61 of A Bonny Pretender
Epilogue
Five years later
The wood behind Castle Raygin
The pounding hammerechoed against the pines. “Done,” announced Frank to the blonde boy next to him. “You have to be careful and not let your sister climb this alone.”
“I promise, Father,” the young Horace said solemnly, before scurrying up the ladder into the tree house. “I don’t think any girls should be allowed in here.”
His son had shared his love for the wood, and Brigid had suggested a little hideaway for the children. It was quiet and peaceful here, but no longer lonely.
A toddling blonde girl pulled at his trousers. “Up, Papa. Up.” He bent down and scooped up the child, turning to call for his wife.
Brigid lumbered between the pines, her hands holding her swollen belly, but there was a smile on her face. “Now ye have a place to hide when ye rile my temper.”
“You can’t get angry enough to keep me from our bed.” He laughed. “I hope this one is a girl that is the image of her mother. I want red curls and freckles on her nose.”
“I want her out so I can ride my pony again!” Brigid chortled. “Grandda will arrive with Ma and Grandma tomorrow. They insist on being here for the birth.”
“Thank God. They put my qualms to rest when the babe comes.”
“That’s the scotch Grandda feeds ye, so ye dinna hear my screams of pain.”
“You know my father and stepmother will also appear at our door soon enough. He won’t be bested by your family.” He laughed. “Sir Horace insists on knowing his grandchildren as well as he does his own children.”
“Yer father is so verra proud of ye, Frank. It warms my heart every time I see ye both together. Ye have so much in common, including some of the same mannerisms.”
“I have you to thank for that.”
She snorted. “Ye werena so grateful that first day he arrived, but I ken the two of ye had to meet.”
He put his free arm around Brigid, his daughter wiggling in the other. Every time he thought he couldn’t get any happier, fate proved him wrong. A third child on the way, doting grandparents on both sides, and sisters who visited as often as possible. He still visited his mother’s grave, but it had turned into a picnic lunch each Sunday when the weather permitted. There were times he felt his mother smiling down at him. He rubbed Brigid’s belly. He was still learning new snippets about her after years of marriage.
Life would never be dull with this woman. With a full heart, he smiled. He’d never be able to give back as much as he’d received, but he would happily spend the rest of his life trying.
To think this perfect union had begun with two people pretending to be someone else. His bonny pretender who had made him face the truth. The truth—and the indominable, flabbergasting, enticing Brigid MacNaughton—had set him free, given him love, and surrounded him with the family he’d only dreamed of as a boy.
THE END
