Epilogue

Strae Castle, December 1774

Emily looked around the Great Hall, glad to see so many of the neighboring clans had come to celebrate the reinstatement of Clan MacGregor—together with its name and tartan—by Parliament. Even the Duke of Argyll was present.

Of course, she had her own reason for celebrating. She was now officially a MacGregor as well. Mrs. Ian MacGregor as of four o’clock this afternoon when they’d gotten married.

“Happy, wife?” Ian asked, coming up beside her near the dais and handing her a glass of wine.

“Very much, husband.” She looked over the packed hall once more. “It seems everyone is having a good time.”

“They should be. We have our name back—and our lands, thanks to ye.”

“I just wish Alasdair were here.”

“Alasdair will be returning in the spring with some of our kin. And, if the Irish have rubbed off on them at all, they’ll be wanting to celebrate our wedding again.”

“It would be nice to have the neighboring clans gather again,” Emily said. “The more friendships we establish, the better.”

“I would agree with ye, although I am nae so sure yer sister does.” He gestured with his glass. “Juliana seems to have an unwanted admirer.”

Emily followed his direction. Neal Cameron was talking to her sister. Or attempting to. Fiona and Lorelei flanked her, the trio looking like determined warrior-queens. She shook her head. “I am surprised he evens remembers Juliana, as inebriated as he was at the Campbell ball.”

“He’s a stubborn arse.”

“Well, Juliana can handle him.” She spotted Rory standing not too far from the group. “I do wish she’d be kinder to your brother, though.”

“Doona fash. Rory brings it on himself.” Ian shrugged. “I think he enjoys roiling her temper.”

“Perhaps something he should rethink then,” Emily answered. “But I am glad Devon no longer totally hates the English.”

“Aye. He is nae ready to forgive yer countrymen, but I think ye have made him see there is good on both sides.”

“It really is too bad Broderick did not realize that as well.”

“I think my uncle is a wee bit mad.” Ian’s mouth tightened. “He is lucky we did nae turn him over to the magistrate.”

“At least he will not be returning, so let us put the past where it belongs.” Emily smiled at him. “Tonight is cause for our celebration. And I think your clansmen agree.” She gestured around the room. “Although that might be the result of kegs of ale and barrels of whisky.”

Ian’s expression relaxed as he looked over the crowd. “Aye, liquor does play a role, and in a few hours most of them willna be standing upright.”

Emily gave him a sideways glance. “We will not be upright, either, I hope.”

Ian grinned. “Did I ever tell ye I like the way yer mind works?”

She managed to put a mock frown on her face. “I think you have disagreed a time or two with my ideas.”

“Och, well. I doona like when ye put yerself in danger.” He leaned closer, although with all the noise in the hall no one would hear him. “But the only danger ye’ll face tonight is to be a wee bit sore in the morning.”

“You are expecting me to move about tomorrow morning?”

He grinned again. “Only in our bed.”

She couldn’t help but smile. Not a night had passed since he brought her back from the bog that she hadn’t been sore the next morning. But it was a most pleasant soreness.

“Do you think we might get started on that soon, husband?”

His grin widened as he took her glass and set it down on the table with his. In one swift movement he bent and lifted her into his arms, causing her to give a startled squeak.

“I see nae reason to wait, wife.”

And with those words, he strode out of the Great Hall and to their chamber, where the door would remain bolted well into the next morning.

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