Sold to the Highland Beast – Extended Epilogue
One year later
The journey to Buchanan Castle had taken five days, moving slowly to accommodate the entourage necessary for traveling with an infant. Kenina adjusted the soft wool blanket wrapped around her daughter, protecting the baby’s face from the autumn wind while still allowing her to see the world passing by.
“She’s awake again,” Peadar observed from beside her in the carriage, leaning over to peer at the alert gray-green eyes staring up at them. “How daes such a tiny thing sleep so little?”
“She takes after her faither,” Kenina said dryly. “Always watching, always alert.”
Little Eilidh—named for Peadar’s mother and Kenina’s grandmother both—made a soft cooing sound and waved one small fist in the air. Peadar immediately offered his finger, which she gripped with surprising strength. Her blue eyes twinkling at them,
“Strong grip,” he said with unmistakable pride. “She’ll be wielding a sword before we ken it.”
“She’s three months old, Peadar.”
“It’s never too early tae think about training.”
“It’s far too early tae think about training.” Kenina laughed. “Let her learn tae hold her own head up properly first, then we can worry about weapons.”
Peadar grinned, unrepentant, but his touch remained gentle as he stroked Eilidh’s downy dark hair—another trait from his side of the family. The baby had Kenina’s nose and chin, though, and something in her serious expression suggested she’d inherited her mother’s stubbornness along with her father’s vigilance.
God help us all.
The carriage rolled through the gates of Buchanan Castle just as the afternoon sun began its descent. Kenina felt her chest tighten with emotion—not anxiety this time, but anticipation. She’d exchanged letters with her parents throughout the year, their words filled with joy at her survival, gratitude for Peadar’s protection, and desperate longing to see their daughter again.
Now she was returning on her own terms, with a husband who loved her and a daughter they’d never met.
“Ready?” Peadar asked softly, squeezing her hand.
“More than ready,” she said, surprised to find her eyes already stinging with tears. “I’ve missed them so much.”
The carriage stopped. Through the window, Kenina could see her parents—her father looking grayer than she remembered, her mother’s face lined with new worry—standing at the base of the steps. The moment the door opened, her mother let out a choked sound.
Peadar helped Kenina down carefully, mindful of the baby in her arms. Kenina’s feet had barely touched the ground before her mother rushed forward.
“Kenina! Oh, me darling girl!” Lady Morven Buchanan pulled her daughter into a fierce embrace, mindful of the infant between them, her whole body shaking with sobs. “Ye’re here. Ye’re really here. I thought—when they took ye—I thought I’d never—”
“I’m here, Mama,” Kenina whispered, her own tears flowing freely now. “I’m safe. I’m home.”
Her father appeared beside them, his weathered face wet with tears he made no attempt to hide. “Me brave girl,” he said roughly, enveloping them both in his strong arms. “Me brave, clever girl.” His voice broke. “Thank God ye’re safe.”
They stood like that for a long moment, the three of them tangled together, making up for over a year of separation and fear. Finally, Margaret pulled back enough to look at her daughter properly.
“Let me see ye. Are ye well? Did he—did Drummond—” The fear in her mother’s eyes was visceral.
“He never touched me,” Kenina assured her quickly. “Peadar made sure of that. He saved me, Mama. In every way that matters.”
Morven turned to Peadar, who had been standing respectfully back, allowing the family reunion. Her expression transformed into something fierce and grateful.
“Laird MacGregor,” she said, her voice thick. “I owe ye a debt I can never repay. Ye saved me daughter’s life. Ye protected her when we couldn’t. Ye—” She broke off, seeming unable to find adequate words.
“Ye gave her a home and a future,” Kenina’s father, Alasdair, finished. He stepped forward, extending his hand to Peadar. “We ken what ye did. How ye fought fer her. How ye killed that monster Drummond. Protecting our lands. There arenae words enough tae thank ye.”
Peadar took Aladsdair’s hand, his grip firm. “I love yer daughter, sir. Protecting her isn’t something I need thanks fer—it’s something I’d dae with me last breath.”
“Even so.” Alasdair’s eyes were bright. “Ye’ve given us back everything that matters. Our daughter, safe and happy. That’s a gift beyond price.”
“Speaking of gifts,” Kenina said, her voice trembling with emotion and joy, “there’s someone we’d like ye tae meet.” She adjusted the blanket, revealing Eilidh alert face. “Mama, Da, this is yer granddaughter. Eilidh Morvena MacGregor.”
Morven’s hands flew to her mouth, fresh tears streaming down her face. “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, Kenina. She’s perfect.”
“She has your eyes,” Alasdair said wonderingly, reaching out to gently touch Eilidh’s tiny hand. The baby immediately grasped his finger, holding on with surprising strength. He laughed, the sound breaking. “And yer grip. Strong, just like her maither.”
“Would ye like tae hold her?” Kenina asked her mother.
“May I? Please?” Morven’s hands were already outstretched, trembling with eagerness.
Kenina carefully transferred Eilidh into her mother’s arms. Morven cradled the baby with the practiced ease of experience, gazing down at her granddaughter with such pure love that Kenina felt her heart might burst.
“Hello, little one,” Morven murmured. “I’m yer grandmaither. I’ve been waiting so long tae meet ye. So very long.” She looked up at Kenina and Peadar, her face radiant despite the tears. “She’s absolutely beautiful. Perfect in every way.”
“She takes after her maither,” Peadar said, moving to stand beside Kenina, his arm wrapping around her waist.
“And her faither,” Alasdair added, studying Peadar with new appreciation. “I see strength in her. Protection. She’ll be a formidable woman someday.”
“She already is,” Peadar said proudly. “Barely sleeps, always watching, already has her maither’s stubborn streak.”
“And her faither is overprotective,” Kenina added with a laugh. “He checks on her every hour through the night, convinced something might happen if he looks away.”
“A good faither daes that,” Alasdair said approvingly. “I did the same with ye, Kenina. Drove yer maither mad, but I couldnae help meself.”
Morven laughed through her tears. “It’s true. He spent yer first three months sleeping beside yer cradle, refusing tae let me move ye tae the nursery.” She looked at Peadar with warm understanding. “I suspect ye’ve done the same.”
“Our chamber,” Peadar admitted. “Cradle right beside the bed. Kenina says I’m excessive.”
“Ye are excessive,” Kenina said fondly. “But I love ye fer it.”
They all stood together, watching Eilidh sleep in her grandmother’s arms. They would have time to review alliance terms, share more stories, let Alasdair and Morven continue falling in love with their granddaughter. But right then, they were simply reunited with family, safe and whole, with their daughter sleeping peacefully nearby.
The future stretched ahead—uncertain but bright, full of possibility and promise. Whatever it brought, they’d face it together. As husband and wife. As parents. As part of something larger than themselves.
And that, Kenina thought as Peadar held her close and the stars wheeled overhead, was everything she’d ever dreamed of and more.
If you haven’t already, please leave your review on Amazon
