Epilogue

Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh, Scotland
20 August 1592

“James,” Queen Anne said as she walked toward her husband at his desk in his privy chamber. “I’ve received the strangest letter from my mother. First of all, ’tis written in English, but ’tis her handwriting.”

“Oh,” James said, cocking a brow. “Does she fret again about not having control of your brother, King Christian?”

“She always will,” Anne said, rereading the scrawl across the parchment. “But this is about the Sinclairs.”

James stood, walking over to her. He took the letter from her fingers, earning him a frown from his young wife that he didn’t notice. Anne pointed to one paragraph. “Did you send the Sinclair Horsemen over to Denmark?” she asked.

“No, I did not,” he murmured as he read.

“It says she doesn’t want them there. That they must remain here to protect us and our future children. That they are exceedingly loyal to the house of Stewart.”

“You know I’ve wondered about their loyalties,” James said, glancing at his wife. “The Sinclairs are too powerful.”

“In the letter, Mama says their power is good to protect us and the shores of Scotland.” Anne shook her head. “Perhaps she’s received some intelligence that proves their loyalty.” She patted James’s arm. “And my mother is quite thorough and tenacious, believe me. If she says they are loyal, we have no fear of them trying to take the throne of Scotland.”

“Excellent,” James said. “I believe this calls for a celebration.”

Anne laughed. “You always want to celebrate.”

“Life is best when we celebrate, my dear,” James said and kissed Anne’s hand.

She giggled at her husband’s rare show of affection. Perhaps her mama would have a grandchild to fret over soon.

…

Hannah walked behind Trix and Libby, who were dressed in white and throwing flowers and barley along the path. Hannah stepped in the cadence set by pipes playing a slow procession toward the dock at Loch Hempriggs. The dock had been expanded to allow Pastor John to stand with three men on one side, two in buff-colored breeches and one in the Sutherland plaid.

Hannah held a small bouquet of flowers with fir boughs in it. Would Erik understand the significance? Just in case he didn’t, she’d nestled the fertility doll that she’d left at the clootie well among the boughs. She smiled mischievously as giddy excitement flooded her.

Hannah’s deep blue skirt trailed slightly behind her. She’d spent the last week embroidering the hem with silver vines and the interlocking valknut, the Norwegian symbol of unity. She wore a circlet of silver that her own mother had worn at her wedding, but Hannah had added wildflowers twined within it. Her golden waves were left partway down with small plaits looping upward to catch in the crown. She walked confidently through the throng of silent people, a full smile on her lips. Her gaze remained on Erik, who stood closest to Pastor John. He was her anchor, her other half. Today they would be officially joined as one.

Behind Hannah walked Iselin, wearing a traditional Norwegian gown of blue and red, the white apron crisp, and a large silver headpiece that jangled when she walked. Aunt Merida followed in a wedding costume in rose-hued tones accented with blue plaid. Each bride was distinct and ferociously in love with the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle jutting out into the loch.

Hannah stopped before Erik in the middle of the rectangular dock. She smiled up at him, and he grinned. He was getting better at smiling. She glanced at the fir twigs in her bouquet and back up at him. He followed her gaze, and his grin fell away as he stared at the hidden little doll.

Erik met her gaze with eyes opened wide in question. She nodded, her teeth setting on her bottom lip. She was pregnant. They hadn’t yet planted the fir trees beside the cottage Erik had been painting and furnishing for them in town, but their offspring were already starting.

He reached for her, and the bouquet crushed between them as he caught her up in a kiss. The giddiness in her chest filled her with such joy that tears leaked from her closed eyes.

Around them, people laughed, and Pastor John cleared his throat, whispering, “Usually we wait until the vows are said for the kiss.”

In Hannah’s mind, they were already wed, their vows honed into the most unbreakable bond through the pain they’d endured. But she let him pull away.

“Let the pastor put God’s blessing on ye first,” Joshua said from the side of the lake where he stood with Kára next to Cain, Gideon, and Bàs with their wives. Cait crouched low, beckoning Trix and Libby off the crowded dock to stand with her and Gideon. Everyone looked on with huge grins, her brothers all happy to watch their sister find her own joy.

She turned back to meet her handsome husband’s gaze as Pastor John began to speak about the seriousness of marriage. But Hannah only wanted to laugh and rejoice. She and Erik were one through action and word.

Love had prevailed.

The love doesn’t end here…
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