The Barbarian Laird’s Dangerous Claim – Extended Epilogue
The morning sun spilled in through the high windows of the castle library, casting golden stripes across the floor and warming the stones beneath Niall’s bare feet. The fire in the hearth had long since dwindled to a flicker, and the air held the soft hush of a household waiting for news.
A small figure clung to Niall’s leg like a particularly clingy barnacle.
“Aikin,” Niall said with a long-suffering sigh, dragging one foot across the rug while his other leg—occupied—refused to budge. “Lad, ye ken I cannae walk proper like this.”
“I am walkin’!” his three-year-old declared triumphantly, chin tipped high as he copied Niall’s slow, measured pacing—albeit attached to his father’s calf like a limpet. “We are marchin’. Fer battle!”
“Oh aye?” Niall arched a brow, trying his best to ignore the flutter of nerves in his stomach. “And who are we fightin’, then?”
Aikin gave this due thought, frowning in concentration as he waddled in time with his father’s steps. “Dragons.”
Niall laughed despite himself. “Dragons now, is it? Och, that explains the sword ye were swingin’ earlier like a madman.”
“’Twas a stick.”
“Aye, but ye hit yer Uncle Bhaltair in the knee with it, so I’m fair certain he’ll call it a weapon regardless.”
Aikin giggled, a sweet bubbling sound that filled the room like sunshine. His curly auburn hair bounced with every hop-step, and he kept his little hand tight around Niall’s legs as though the floor might vanish beneath him if he let go.
Niall ruffled the boy’s hair. “Remind me never tae give ye a real sword.”
The pacing resumed. Niall tried to make it look casual, unhurried, but his mind was anything but calm. Somewhere above, behind thick stone walls and wooden doors, Deidra was in labor—again. And though he’d been through this once already, though he told himself again and again that she was strong and everything would be fine, his heartbeat betrayed him.
Aikin craned his head up, squinting. “Da?”
“Aye?”
“Where’s Mama?”
Niall stopped. He crouched, bringing himself eye to eye with his son. “She’s upstairs, remember? With Catriona and the midwife.”
“Is she sick?”
“Nay, love.” He smiled and tapped the boy’s nose. “She’s… makin’ us a gift.”
Aikin’s eyes lit up like stars. “A gift?! What kind?”
“A very special one.” Niall’s voice softened. “One ye’ll get tae hold. Somethin’ ye’ll love.”
“Can I see it now?”
“Nay, nae yet.” Niall stood again, smoothing a hand over his face. “Gifts like this one take a bit o’ time.”
“Oh.” Aikin’s lips puckered in thought. “Like soup?”
Niall coughed to hide a laugh. “Aye. Just like soup. If ye check the pot too early, it’ll just be water and carrots.”
The boy nodded solemnly, apparently satisfied by this culinary metaphor.
They resumed pacing. For a few blissful minutes, it worked. The footsteps, the distraction, the distraction pretending not to be a distraction. Until—
A scream echoed faintly from above.
Niall froze.
Aikin’s hand tightened on his leg. “Was that Mama?”
“Aye,” Niall said, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. “But dinnae worry yerself, lad. That’s just…” He wracked his brain. “She’s… shoutin’ at the soup.”
Aikin blinked at him.
“She does that sometimes,” Niall added. “When the carrots fight back.”
The boy giggled. “Mama’s funny.”
“Aye, she is,” Niall muttered, resuming their route, heart thundering in his chest. “She’s a fierce one, yer mama.”
But the pacing wasn’t helping anymore.
He needed to do something. Anything.
His eyes fell on the chessboard laid out on the low table beside the fire. He scooped Aikin into his arms and set him down before it.
“Right,” he said, forcing cheer into his voice. “Let’s see if ye’ve still got the cleverness tae best me.”
Aikin’s face lit with glee. “I’ll win again!”
“Och, ye cheated last time!”
“I didnae!”
“Well, ye distracted me by spillin’ orange juice down yer tunic, so I’d say that’s close enough.”
The chess pieces tumbled across the board as Aikin’s small hands rearranged the ranks with imperial authority. The knight wobbled precariously before tumbling sideways, skittering across the polished wood like a spooked stallion, before Niall grabbed it and gave it back to him.
“This one’s Sir Horsebottom,” Aikin declared, plucking up a bishop and balancing it precariously atop his own king’s head. “He wears crowns for hats!”
Niall bit the inside of his cheek. “Daring fashion choice.”
“And this—” Aikin grabbed a pawn, spun it three times until it wobbled, then slammed it down so hard the remaining pieces shuddered”—is Lord Wiggles. He defeats enemies by dancing!” To demonstrate, he made the pawn jiggle in a wild circle before sending it careening into Niall’s queen.
“A brutal tactic,” Niall admitted, stroking his chin as if studying a real battlefield. He inched his queen forward with exaggerated caution, letting his fingers tremble for effect. “Perhaps if I… just… here—”
“HA!” Aikin shrieked, seizing his dancing pawn. “Lord Wiggles eats the lady!” The piece smacked against the queen with enough force to send both skittering off the board.
Niall gasped, clutching his chest. “Treachery! Me finest warrior, felled by… by…”
“I am the king,” Aikin said proudly, holding the small wooden piece aloft like a battle trophy.
“Aye, and here I thought I was the laird of this keep.”
“Nope.” The boy grinned wide, revealing the gap from a tooth he’d knocked loose trying to climb a bannister last week. “Ye’re me knight. Knights protect the king.”
“Och, is that how it is?” Niall grabbed him and tossed him into the air, catching him as Aikin shrieked with delight. “Then I best be wearin’ armor at all times!”
“Again! Higher!”
“Ye’ll hit the rafters, laddie!”
A sudden sound stopped him—this time not a scream, but the unmistakable rush of footsteps.
The doors to the library burst open.
Catriona stood in the doorway, cheeks flushed, her apron damp with sweat. Her hands trembled slightly—but her smile was steady.
Niall’s stomach dropped, his heart beating frantically as he raised to his feet.
“Well?” he asked, the word leaving his mouth like a prayer.
Catriona’s eyes sparkled.
“She’s here,” she said. “A girl. And healthy as a wee fox.”
Niall swayed where he stood, laughter tumbling from his chest before he even realized it.
“A lass,” he breathed, eyes stinging. “Deidra?”
“Tired. But well. She’s askin’ fer ye.”
Aikin tugged on his tunic. “Can I come see the gift now?”
Niall pressed a kiss to the crown of Aikin’s head, still dizzy with the news. “Come now, lad,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Let’s go meet yer sister.”
Aikin’s whole face lit up like a candle. “Me gift?!”
Niall chuckled, shifting the boy to his hip as he started for the stairs. “Aye, the best gift ye’ll ever get. But ye have tae be gentle. She’s brand new.”
The castle walls seemed to glow with morning light as they ascended, a warm hush settling over everything. Each step toward Deidra filled Niall with a pulsing sort of joy, like the beat of a drum beneath his ribs. It amazed him, really, how different this moment felt from the first time.
The first had been raw and terrifying, a storm of fear and fierce, desperate love. This time, the love had only grown. Softer in some ways. Stronger in others.
The bedroom door stood slightly ajar. Catriona had left it open for them, and Niall pushed it gently with his shoulder.
The cry met them instantly. Thin and high, insistent and alive.
Aikin wriggled in his arms. “Is that her?!”
“Aye,” Niall murmured, kissing his temple. “That’s her voice. Go see her, lad.”
He set Aikin down and the boy hurried across the room, small feet slapping softly on stone, his curls bouncing with each step. Deidra was propped against a mound of pillows, her face pale but glowing, her gown rumpled and her hair a halo of tangled red. The baby lay in the crook of her arm, pink-faced and wailing.
Aikin climbed carefully onto the bed and leaned close, his nose nearly brushing the baby’s. He stared for a long moment, mouth slightly open in awe.
Then, very solemnly, he leaned in and kissed her forehead.
Deidra laughed, breathless and warm. “Well then. Someone’s smitten already.”
Niall crossed the room more slowly, taking her in. Every inch of her, every sound, every breath. He reached the bedside and dropped to his knees beside her, unable to speak for a moment. He looked from her flushed cheeks to the baby’s red face to Aikin’s wide, wonder-filled eyes. His heart was full to bursting.
“She has yer eyes,” Deidra said softly, brushing her fingers across the baby’s cheek.
Niall leaned forward, his calloused hand cradling her cheek. When his lips met hers, time seemed to pause—the world narrowing to the warmth of her mouth, the faint tremor of her breath against his skin.
He kissed her slowly, deliberately, savoring the way her lips surrendered to his, the familiar taste of honeyed tea and something uniquely Deidra that always made his chest tighten.
In that moment, nothing else mattered—not the past, not the battles fought, not the scars they bore. Only this, the steady beat of her heart against his, the quiet certainty that she was here, alive and whole, and his.
As they parted, Niall lingered, his breath mingling with hers in the narrow space between them. His thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone, rough skin catching slightly on the softness of hers.
He studied her face—the faint freckles dusting her nose like constellations he’d memorized long ago, the way her lashes fluttered against the pink of her cheeks. But it was her eyes that held him captive, those familiar depths brimming with a love so fierce it made his chest ache. In their reflection, he saw every shared sunrise, every whispered promise, every battle fought side by side.
Then he turned to their daughter.
“May I?” he asked.
Deidra nodded, and he gently gathered the baby in his arms. She was impossibly small, so soft he was half afraid she might melt if he held her too tightly. Her cries quieted at the change of arms, little mouth working in the air like she had more to say.
The moment the baby curled her tiny fist around his finger, Niall felt the air leave his lungs in a rush.
That same dizzying wave of love crashed over him—precisely as it had when he’d first held Aikin, swaddled and squalling in the crook of his arm three years prior. Only now, he recognized the sensation before it could knock him breathless—this terrifying, exhilarating freefall into devotion.
He traced the petal-soft curve of the baby’s cheek with one calloused knuckle, marveling at how something so small could unravel him so completely. Her nose wrinkled, mirroring Deidra’s expression when she laughed. The recognition sent a pang through him.
How had he ever feared this?
Aikin had taught him the sharp joy of fatherhood—the scraped knees and midnight fevers that made his hands shake. But this little girl slipped into the hollow spaces of his heart he hadn’t known were empty.
Deidra’s tired voice broke through his reverie. “Ye’re crying again.”
Niall didn’t wipe his tears.
“She’s perfect,” he whispered.
“I want tae name her Elsie,” Deidra said, watching him with tear-bright eyes.
He smiled through a rush of emotion. “Elsie MacRae. A fine name.”
He lifted one of the baby’s tiny fists to his lips and kissed it. Her fingers curled instinctively around his thumb again, and his chest squeezed tight.
Aikin had nestled against Deidra now, his head tucked against her side. “Mama,” he said quietly, stroking her arm with a chubby hand. “Did it hurt when Elsie came?”
Deidra chuckled softly, her voice still hoarse. “A bit, love. But I’d dae it again and again tae meet her.”
Aikin considered this gravely. “Did ye fight the carrots tae get her?”
Niall let out a surprised bark of laughter, then quickly smothered it when Elsie twitched in his arms. “Nay, lad. Nay carrots. Though if she did, we’d have sent our entire army tae help her.”
“Da,” Deidra scolded gently, though her eyes danced.
Niall sat back on the stool beside the bed, cradling Elsie as her little face settled into a pout. He watched her in quiet wonder as Deidra and Aikin spoke in low, giggly tones. It struck him then, in a way it hadn’t before, just how much Aikin resembled her. The same hazel eyes, that soft auburn hair. The same fierce curiosity.
“He’s just like ye,” Niall murmured, catching Deidra’s gaze. “The way he questions everything. And that same fire in his stare when he daesnae get the answer he wants.”
She grinned. “He’s stubborn as ye, too.”
“Aye, he is.”
He looked back to Elsie, whose eyes had opened again—deep blue, startling against her delicate features. Not the murky blue of newborns, but something vivid, something alive. Like cut sapphires catching sunlight.
Niall sucked in a quiet breath. “Her eyes…”
Deidra leaned forward slightly. “What about them?”
“They’re… They’re unreal. Like they see straight through me.”
Deidra’s expression softened. “Aye. She sees her da. That’s love, that is.”
Niall looked down again, heart twisting. He began to hum—a quiet, gentle tune he’d heard a hundred times before. It was the lullaby Deidra used to sing to Aikin when he was just a baby, all sighs and sleepy smiles.
This time, the melody came from him.
Elsie blinked slowly, then yawned, and within moments, she had drifted into sleep, a fragile weight against his chest.
He rocked her slowly, breath catching in his throat.
Aikin, too, had fallen asleep beside Deidra, his little hand still resting on her arm. Her fingers threaded through his curls as she leaned back into the pillows.
Niall stood slowly, carefully, and carried Elsie across the room to the bassinet Catriona had readied by the window. He placed her gently within, brushing one last kiss to her downy head before returning to Deidra’s side.
They sat together in the hush, the fire crackling low, the room brimming with warmth and quiet joy.
“They’re perfect,” Deidra whispered.
“They are,” Niall agreed, slipping his hand into hers.
“Imagine,” she said, turning her head toward him, eyes twinkling. “Ye didnae even want tae be a faither.”
He made a noise deep in his throat. “Dinnae ken who ye’re talkin’ about. I love bein’ a faither.”
Deidra arched a brow. “Ye dae now.”
Niall leaned in and kissed her—not with heat, but with reverence. With thanks.
“I’m lucky,” he said softly, pulling back just far enough to see her. “Lucky because me bairns have ye fer a maither.”
She exhaled shakily, tears welling again. “I’m happy, Niall. Truly. Fer the first time in a long while… I feel whole. There is naething else I’d ever ask fer.”
The End.
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Thought this was a great end to a brilliant book, thank you
Thank you so much! I’m thrilled you enjoyed the ending—it means a lot to hear that Jan! 🙏
Loved how Niall took to fatherhood. Nice ending.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment my dear 💜
Great ending.
Thank you, Shirley! I’m so glad you enjoyed the ending 🙏
Wonderful story,kept my interest!
Thank you so much for your comment & support Sue ❤️